Title: Another Planet's Hell

Author: Sita Z

Rating: PG 13

AN: Thanks to CordeliaBlack (Can he survive this?... Let's hope so), Buggles586 (I wouldn't ;-) ), Tata (we'll see about Trip...), Reedie (Ouch! That had to hurt ;-)! But don't take Malcolm away, I still need him -g-!), Gabi (tja, wie war das mit dem Krankenschwesternkomplex ;-)?), AquaSox (No... but maybe there's a way we can get him out of there), Katt (thank you! Glad to hear you're enjoying the story), Luna (there's -definitely- some buttkicking that needs to be done), stage manager (you'll see more about Trip in this chapter...), Rinne (thank you! I'm glad you enjoyed the "spoilers"), WhtevrHpnd2Mary (I always love your comments, exactly my thoughts! And you're quite right about Malcolm's state of mind - he'll definitely be affected), KaliedescopeCat (I agree with you!), Maraschino (yeah, but as I said... maybe we can get him out of there ;-) ), Antares Star (here comes the update... I don't want to be responsible for anyone having a heart attack out there -g-. Glad to hear you're enjoying it so much), The Flaming Dragonfly (poor Mal, you want him to suffer -again-? Well, it's definitely not over for him yet), Gabi again (uh-uh, no bribery... cuz I have some chapters saved on -my- computer as well -eg-) and Eyes on Tactical (give your li'l Malcolm a hug from me, I'm sorry for being so mean to him... it's just that I like to torture him a little! Okay, I'm a bad person ;-) ) for reviewing!

Please read and review!

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Chapter 11

"Dammit!"

Frustrated, Trip sat back on his heels, staring at the tangle of wires on the underside of the helm console. He'd need a microspanner to repair this, and several others of his tools back on Enterprise, maybe even a hand scanner to find the source of the problem. Well, if worse came to worse, a simple microspanner would be enough. But there was next to nothing he could do, having only a few crude screwdrivers and wires at his disposal.

He sighed. When he had told Chi'an and the others that he was an engineer - had been an engineer, anyway - their excited reaction had come as a surprise to him. He had soon learned that none of the people living in the camp knew much about technology. They hardly knew enough to maintain their only stolen flitter - well, maybe "maintain" was not the right word for what they had been doing to keep this thing running. After taking a good look at the navigation systems, Trip was surprised that this thing was still able to fly. Let alone fly on autopilot. They had practically begged him to take a look at it, and so Trip had spent the greater part of the three days he had been in the camp crouched under a console, sweating and swearing as he tried to repair sophisticated circuits with little more than a few rusty wires and spittle.

Still, in a way he always felt reluctant to pack away his few tools in the evening and return to the main building. As long as he had his hands on some kind of machinery that needed repairing, Trip was able to distract himself. Focus on engineering problems, forget about his nightmares, about the image of Malcolm's body half-buried under a heap of garbage behind one of those windowless factory buildings. In his dreams he could hear him scream, still alive, still fighting, but when he was awake all Trip could think of was the image of that dead body among the garbage, an image that had stayed with him ever since that first evening when Chi'an and Sepek had told him about the abductions.

On that evening, he had hardly found it in him to talk, let alone show any real interest when they showed him around the camp. A detached part of his mind had been impressed - their hiding place was perfectly located, an empty factory building in a deserted part of the city. The area somewhat resembled the old pictures of Western ghost towns back on Earth - dilapidated houses next to empty factory buildings with broken windows, the streets littered with rubble and old garbage. Chi'an had told him that this part of the city had been destroyed in a war several decades ago, the bombs turning most of the houses into smoking piles of stones. The Sar'veen, however, had never thought it necessary to rebuild them, simply leaving their destroyed living spaces and moving into another part of the town that had not been touched by the war.

This was were the fugitives had sought shelter, building a camp in three of the deserted buildings that were still more or less inhabitable (even though the roof leaked in some places, and it was freezing cold at night). From the outside, no one would ever guess that there were people living in this place - the fugitives had been careful to disguise their camp, hiding mostly in the basements and using the rooms upstairs only for storage.

There were twenty-five people living in the camp, but Trip had still not met all of them. Chi'an had said that some only used the camp to go into hiding for a few weeks, and traveled through the city for most of the year, doing "business" and exchanging information with other groups of fugitives. He had been surprised to learn that there were about five or six of these "camps" scattered throughout the city, changing location from time to time to prevent the police from discovering them.

Hardly any of the fourteen or fifteen "steady campers" were from the same species. On his first evening Trip had met T'Min, a Vulcan and probably the oldest inhabitant of the camp; Vern, a young woman from a planet whose name he had never heard before and the mother of baby Rish; the Andorian Lerin who was both the camp's cook and Sepek's best friend, and of course Lanja, the Xyrillian doctor.

Lanja was the only one who had exchanged more than a few words with Trip on that evening. Most of the others only introduced themselves, then went back about their business without giving him so much as another look. Trip had soon realized that they weren't being deliberately brusque, or rejecting him; the campers never talked much to each other, or made any special effort to socialize. He had no idea what they thought about the new arrival, whether they approved or disapproved, or just didn't care. And in a way, he was glad to be left alone. He was relieved he could simply crawl into his bunk in the evening, close his eyes and try to escape these thoughts and images, if only for the limited period of one night.

On that first evening, however, he did have a lengthier conversation with Lanja while the Xyrillian man treated his sprained ankle and the cuts on his back. Like Trip had guessed, the whip wounds had bled again, and Lanja needed a lot of time and moistened napkins until he had carefully peeled the shirt off of the engineer's back. While he did so, they talked, and Trip learned that it was by far not the first time the Xyrillian doctor treated this particular kind of injuries. Lanja was surprisingly efficient, considering his limited medical supplies and equipment, and after only two days, Trip found that the cuts were finally beginning to heal, due to the thick layer of ointment the Xyrillian applied to his back every morning and evening.

During their conversation, Lanja had told him about several of the campers; about Vern who had run away because her owner had tried to rape her, about Lerin who had been working in a steel mill sixteen hours a day before she decided that it was either run away or die of the poisonous fumes, and about Sepek who had been separated from his mother at the age of ten when his Sar'veen father had found himself in debt and decided that he needed quick money. He had sold the boy to a clothing factory where Sepek almost starved, the older workers taking away his meager rations and hardly leaving him enough to survive on. One night, Sepek had lain in his corner, the hunger pangs keeping him awake, when he saw one of the guards leave the room without locking the door. Half mad with hunger, Sepek simply got up and left, walked out of there in the middle of the night. Surprisingly enough, no one followed him as he went. He ran away, and lived on the street for several years until Chi'an found him as he rummaged through the garbage cans behind a restaurant. She had brought him back to the camp, and for the first time in his life Sepek was given enough to eat and a place to sleep without having to work ten to twelve hours a day. He learned to read, and spent most of his time studying the few books and newspaper scraps the campers had picked up somewhere.

"He says he's going to kill his father one day," Lanja said, carefully spreading the herb ointment on Trip's back. "We've tried to talk him out of it, said he'd only get killed if he tried to do such a thing. But he won't listen. He's going to do it one day, too."

Trip noticed that Lanja said a thing or two about every fugitive living in the camp, but never mentioned the one person who seemed to be in unchallenged charge of the group. Chi'an was no dictator, rather the opposite; she kept mostly to herself, and when she did come out of her small room in the back of the building, she seemed to prefer staying in the background, watching instead of actually participating in everyday life. Still, two days ago Trip had watched Lerin and another camper arguing about the food rations, and it had taken only one look and a mild rebuke from Chi'an to settle the disagreement. She was the one who was asked for permission if someone needed extra supplies or wanted to use the flitter, and it was her who decided which people left for "business tours" and which stayed in the camp. The other fugitives treated her with careful respect, and while Trip had never seen her get angry with anyone, he couldn't help the impression that most people were a little afraid of her. Chi'an never smiled, and when she disappeared into her room - she was the only one of the fugitives who had a room all to herself - no one dared to disturb her.

"Tucker! You in there?" A voice broke through his musings, and Trip started. Someone was knocking on the flitter's hatch, and he recognized Lanja's voice. "Hey, Tucker!"

"Come in," he called, and the hatch slid aside, revealing the stocky Xyrillian doctor.

"Still busy with the helm console?" Lanja asked and climbed inside. Trip saw that he was carrying a small brown container.

"Yeah." He suppressed a sigh as he looked at the wires which were still in the same state of disarray as they had been twenty minutes ago. "It's gonna take a while to bring this thing up to scratch."

Lanja smiled sheepishly. "We really did a poor job repairing it, didn't we?"

"It's not that bad," Trip said quickly. Lanja threw him a dry look from the corner of his eye that told Trip there was no fooling the old doctor. "Well, maybe it is," he admitted. "Some of the circuits in there were all but fried, and the rest would've given up the ghost sooner or later as well."

"Here." Lanja set the brown container down on the console. "I brought you some lunch. Lerin warmed up the left-overs from last night, and Chi'an told me you hadn't had any breakfast, so..."

"Thank you." Trip smiled his thanks, and was rewarded with a broad grin that reminded him very much of another doctor. As he opened the container, the sweetish smell of slightly overcooked k'ven escaped. Reluctantly, he began forking up some of the food. He was hungry, but these days he hardly ever felt like eating.

Lanja smiled again, and made as if to leave. Trip hesitated, then decided that now was as good as any time. "Lanja," he said. The Xyrillian looked back at him.

"You need something else?"

"I'd like to ask you somethin'." Trip put his fork back down. "You got a minute?"

"Sure." The Xyrillian leaned against the hatch, regarding him thoughtfully. "It's about your friend, isn't it?"

Trip nodded. He had told Lanja all about their escape and Malcolm's disappearance, hoping against hope that the doctor might reassure him, tell him that there was a chance Malcolm hadn't been abducted by the people who ran the testing facilities, after all. But Lanja had only shaken his head, his voice sounding sad as he confirmed what Chi'an had already told him: There was only a very slight possibility that Malcolm was still alive, and if he was, then not for long. But Trip couldn't bring himself to accept the idea of Malcolm being dead. Not yet.

"I want to go back to the place where Chi'an and Sepek found me," he said. "I've had a look at the flitter's scanners and I think I can rig them up so they will pick up human bio signs in a range of about 500 meters. That way I could find out where Malcolm is, and then..."

"Then what?" Lanja shook his head. "Tucker, even if you somehow magic this thing into identifying your species' bio signs... it's been almost four days. And even if you do find your friend - what are you planning to do?"

"That," Trip said slowly, "is what I wanted to talk to you about." He raised his head. "Do you think Chi'an would help me... get him out of there?"

Lanja stared at him. "Get him out of there?"

"Yes. If he's still alive, then there is a chance I can get him out."

"And how?" Lanja shook his head. "Walk up to their door, smile and ask if you can have him back? This is crazy, Tucker."

"I was rather thinkin' along the lines of "walk up to their door and shoot whoever comes out"." He knew he sounded flippant, but Trip had never been more serious in his life. "You've got weapons back in the camp. Why don't we use them to free those people?"

"Tucker..." Lanja sighed. "There are more than sixty million people enslaved on this planet. If we used weapon force to free all of them-"

"I'm not talkin' about the whole planet!" Trip said, sharper than he had intended to. "I'm talkin' about people not very far away from here, sufferin' and dyin' at the hands of those bastards. You can't jus' go and ignore them only because you can't help everybody!"

The Xyrillian was silent for a moment. "You sound like Chi'an," he said then. "She always said that when she brought back another run-away she had picked up on the street. Some of the people in the camp said that we are enough already, that there isn't enough food for so many people. But she said that every single one of them will help us survive. And she's been right, so far." He paused. "Do you know how she escaped from slavery?"

Trip shook his head. "She never told me."

"She doesn't like to talk about her past," Lanja said. "I wouldn't, if I was her. Have you heard of the Orions?"

Again, Trip shook his head.

"They're known as slave traders throughout the galaxy. They kidnap and sell even their own people, and especially the women. To an Orion, a woman is little more than an intelligent animal. The Orion slave girls are famous for their beauty, and... animal-like wildness, as some people call it." Lanja sounded disgusted. "They're much sought-after, especially here on K'tera. Chi'an was one of those slave girls. She was sold to a Sar'veen brothel when she was sixteen. She never talks about the things they made her do there, and to be honest, I don't want to know. All I know is that she'd been there for more than five years when one day one of the clients tried to stab her with a knife. She managed to grab hold of it before he could hurt her, and stabbed him several times, but she didn't kill him."

"She didn't?"

Lanja shook his head. "She cut off his dick. And then, before anyone could stop her, she cut her face. With scars like that, she knew she was of no use to them anymore. She even tried to slit her wrists, but they stopped her before she could do so. Took her to a doctor, so the damage could be repaired. She fought them tooth and nail, but they dragged her off to a flitter and threw her in the back. They thought she was going to die anyway, and so they didn't bother to tie her up. On the way to the hospital she killed the two guards that were supposed to keep an eye on her, and escaped. I have no idea how she did it, but she managed to get away. She hid in an old factory building for several weeks, in the middle of the cold season. Almost died because the cuts on her face got infected. Somehow, she survived, and then founded this camp. I believe T'Min was the first one she picked up on the street. She's found most of us herself, at one time or another. I myself have known her for six years now."

There was a hint of pride in Lanja's voice at these words. Trip was silent for a moment, digesting what he had heard. He had suspected that there was a sad story behind Chi'an's scars, and wasn't really surprised to hear that she had taken a knife to her own face. What was rather unsettling, however, was her reason for doing so. It was only narrowly that Malcolm and he had escaped a fate very similar to hers. He couldn't think of himself being desperate enough to mutilate himself in such a way, but who knew what a few years in such a place might do to you. What kind of person you might become.

"Talk to her about your plan," Lanja said, breaking into his thoughts. "If you really think this will work, then talk to her. You never know with Chi'an. She might even agree to help you."

Trip nodded slowly. He was going to talk to her, this very evening.

XXX

As always in the late afternoon, the main room was crowded with people. The "living area" of the camp consisted mainly of one spacious hall, with Lerin's kitchen place and two big tables in the front. The back of the large room was separated into several smaller areas by curtains stretched between the walls, creating the atmosphere of a Bedouin desert camp. This was where the campers slept, most of them sharing their sleeping space with three or four other people. Trip had been given a cot in the "room" of an Andorian and a man whose species he had never seen before; both very quiet people who hardly ever talked, neither to Trip nor to one another. They didn't seem to mind, however, having to make room for another sleeper, and even though the narrow cot was hardly more comfortable than his mattress back at Orven's place, Trip found himself feeling almost at home here. He never got much sleep nights, lying awake for hours at a time, but in a way the place had a calming effect on him. Maybe it was just that no one here hit him, swore at him or tried to put him in restraints. Trip was perfectly content with being left alone for most of the time, at a place where he wasn't inferior to anyone and no one claimed to be his "owner".

Mostly, he went to bed early in the evening, exhausted by his work on the flitter's systems. Hardly any of the people ever sat up and talked, and if they did, you only heard the soft murmur of their voices. No one ever seemed to talk loud in here - not as a measure of precaution, Trip had realized, but because it was their way. The only time the noise level rose was when Rish woke up cranky and filled the room with her infant squalls.

Today, however, he remained sitting at the table after he had finished his evening ration. Chi'an was talking to T'Min, from time to time brushing back a stray lock that had fallen into her face. She listened to the old Vulcan with an intent concentration that was characteristical of her, and raised her voice when she answered, since T'Min was rather hard of hearing.

Trip waited until T'Min finally rose from her chair, announcing that she was going to bed. Chi'an nodded, and got up as well, gathering up their dishes.

"See you in the morning."

The old Vulcan ignored her - or, more likely, hadn't heard her - and shuffled off to the back end of the room where she disappeared behind one of the curtains.

Trip got up. "Chi'an..."

The Orion woman turned her head. "Yes?"

Trip took a deep breath. "Could I have a word with ya?"

Chi'an's eyes rested on him for a moment. "Is there something wrong?"

"No," he said, watching as she deposited her plates on the counter. "I'd like to ask you somethin'."

She returned to her former chair and gestured for him to sit down as well. "Take a seat."

Trip complied, feeling rather nervous. He didn't really know how to begin. There was so much at stake, and he had no back-up plan in case she refused.

"I'm almost done with the flitter," he said after a while. "Well, there're still a few circuits I need to replace, but I think I'll be done by tomorrow afternoon at the latest."

"That's good to hear," Chi'an said, folding her hands on the table and regarding him with her dark eyes. "But that isn't what you wanted to talk about."

"No," Trip said. "You know, I was thinkin'. That flitter is equipped with damn good sensors, both short range and long range. It'd take only a little calibratin', and they'd be able to pick up detailed bio signs in a range of over 500 meters. If we went back to the place near... near that factory, we could find out where those people are held prisoner. We could get them out of there."

Chi'an didn't say anything, at first. She simply looked at him, the soft glow of the lamp giving her scarred skin an almost golden hue. "It would take more than two people to do so," she said then. "And it would be very dangerous."

"I know." Trip forced himself to hold her gaze. "But I think it's worth the risk. We can't jus' let them die at the hands of those people. We have to-"

"We don't have to do anything, Tucker," she interrupted him. "We never kidnapped anyone, or used them for lab experiments. You can't demand that we help those people, and put our own lives in danger at the same time."

"No, I can't," Trip said quietly. "But I'm willin' to take the risk. I'll go alone. I only need your permission to take the flitter and a hand weapon..."

"You know that you're going to get yourself killed, do you?" Her voice was very calm.

"I have to do this, Chi'an." It wasn't a direct answer to her question, but then, she didn't really need to hear that he was aware of how small his chances of success were. She already knew that.

"You're willing to risk your own life, even though chances are that your friend has been killed already?" She still sounded strangely detached, as if they were discussing hypothetic options in a theoretical scenario.

"I... can't just leave him behind."

She nodded slowly, thoughtfully, as if the fact that he was willing to risk his life changed everything. Trip didn't really know what to make of her reaction, and almost startled when she spoke again, abruptly.

"I'm willing to help you, Tucker," she said. "And I'm willing to talk to the others, ask them for their help as well. But on one condition. You have to agree to do something for me in return."

Trip couldn't believe she had actually agreed to help him. It was the last thing he would have expected, given her former vehement reaction as he had told her that they couldn't let those people die.

"What do you want me to do?" he asked, forcing himself to match her calm tone. Whatever it was, he would agree if she was willing to help him get Malcolm out of there, but there was no need to let her know that.

"I can't tell you the details yet," she said. "It's some... business I need to get done. But I won't lie to you and say there's no risk to it. It's actually quite dangerous."

Trip nodded. He knew there was no use pressing her for more information, and he couldn't risk her changing her mind again. He needed her help, even if it meant agreeing to do something he wasn't even sure he wanted to know about.

"I'll do it," he said.

Chi'an regarded him for another moment, then got up. "I'll talk to the others," she said. "If we want to save your friend, then we need to get started as soon as possible."

Trip nodded. Time was running short.

TBC...

Please let me know what you think!