Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek or any of the characters created therein.
A/N: Each of the characters in this story is representative of something I particularly like or find important in the Star Trek universe. Una—well, you're going to find out something unusual about Una later on. I don't want to spoil the surprise, but I will tell you that she represents the spirit of adventure that the fans feel in association with Trek.
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First Impression, Chapter 8: A Strange Bedfellow
Una awoke to find she'd gone to market. Literally.
Once the pain in her head and the shock of seeing her Orion captors started to subside, she set her mind to figuring out exactly what had happened. The last thing she remembered was Taurik scanning a large room with ships docked inside it…
She tried her comm and wasn't surprised when her hails went unanswered. Where were the rest of the away team? Where, for that matter, was she?
It seemed likely that she was still on the station. She didn't feel too tired or weak and her head still hurt, so she hadn't been unconscious for more than a couple of hours. She was in a cage and not an interrogation room, so it was reasonable to assume that her jailors didn't realize she was Starfleet.
Nearby, a light began to flash wildly. The source appeared to be above the door of one of the adjacent cages that lined the dimly lit room. Una noticed that every cage had the same set of lights above it and deduced that the lights were some kind of locking mechanism; an Orion was in the process of dragging a despondent humanoid from the cell that was currently flashing.
His captive colleagues didn't seem to care much—none of them made a move to help him in any way. What was wrong with these people? Una wondered. It wasn't just that they didn't fight, they didn't even seem afraid or upset. It was like they were half dead!
Another set of light went off, then another and another as people were pulled from cell after cell and led out of the room. Through the wide doorway she could see the market floor and her fellow prisoners being auctioned off. The bidding was fast and furious and the Orions were keeping pace. Waiting for her fellow officers to rescue her would have been her preferred course of action, but Una surmised that it would not be long before she was on the auctioneer's platform herself.
She looked around her cage, weighing her options. All of her possessions had been confiscated, not that they would have been much use. The only other occupants were a Medek passed out—she hoped—on the floor and a dim figure slumped in a corner, so no help there. The door did not have any type of handle or accessible control panel, so little chance of rewiring or picking the lock. It was unlikely that she would be able to bend the bars, but she tried just to cover all of her bases.
A blinding pain rippled through her head and she fell to the floor of the cage, clutching her head. As she did so, Una felt the cold imprint of something metal…embedded in her neck. Her curious fingers moved over it and the pain intensified until curiosity—indeed, until most thoughts and feelings—were forgotten.
Then, just as suddenly, it was gone.
She lay gasping on the floor of her prison, chest heaving and sweat curling down her forehead.
"Hands inside the cage at all times!" a nearby voice snapped.
A small man of indeterminate species dressed in long robes stood outside her cage and rapped a finger on one of the bars. He held a computer pad in one hand and his other hand was on a slender flashing gadget at his waist. As she watched he flicked one of the lights on and off and the door to her cell opened.
The robed man gestured to two Orions waiting nearby, who entered into the cage. Una prepared for a fight, but they passed her by and picked up the Medek and began to drag him out. The small man ran his hand over the gadget again and the Medek came to life between in their arms. His whole body jerked and stiffened and, amazingly, he began to walk on his own.
Ominously fascinated, Una watched as the Medek walked docilely through the enclosure to the sale platform. She didn't realize she was leaning on the bars again until pain poured through her with the same frightening intensity as before.
The robed man said nothing, just threw her a condescending look before heading after the Orions and the Medek.
Una lay on her back on the floor of the cell, panting and waiting for the pain and nausea to subside. There was a throbbing pulse behind her right eye and she was beginning to wonder if the device on her neck had damaged it in some way. Gradually she became aware of a figure standing over her.
"They're very serious about the rules back here," the figure told her evenly.
With effort Una shuffled herself onto her elbows to look at the smartass and was surprised—he appeared to be human. He was tall, dark haired, dark eyed, and dressed in a style reminiscent of a Romulan. The placid expression on his face smacked of disdain, something she really didn't need right now.
"Go away," she told him, waving a hand in his direction. The sooner he got lost the sooner she could work on getting out of here.
He kneeled down. "I can help you get out of here," he told her conspiratorially.
Una rolled over, turning her back on him.
"Look, we're both in the same situation here—"
"And you just happen to know how to get out of here? Why gee golly, I guess that's sure lucky for me!"
"I'm a regular here."
"Here?" Una gestured to the bars surrounding them.
"At Par'at Nor. Everyone knows how the system works—you break the rules, cause trouble, you end up on the blocks. It's pretty effective for keeping the peace, but I'm not stupid. I've taken precautions."
Una pulled herself off the floor and paced to stand in front of him. She put her face as close to his as she dared and enunciated carefully, "I do not require your assistance. Get…lost."
He didn't flinch and answered her back just as carefully. "What do you plan on doing?" He looked pointedly at the auction. The Medek was gone and a spindly Denobulan was now on the block. "I'm getting out of here with or without you. Come if you're not stupid."
Hell would freeze over before she was going anywhere with this guy. He set off every instinctual alarm bell in her mental armory. She glared at him and very deliberately turned around, crossing her arms over her chest.
She heard a shuffling sound and a click behind her…then another…then another. She couldn't help it—she peeked.
Her cellmate was nonchalantly laying three of the bars of the cage aside.
"What are you doing?" she whispered frantically.
He attached the small triangular device he had been using to cut the bars onto his belt.
"I told you I was leaving. What, did you think I was going to mull it over for awhile?" He held out his hand to her. She hesitated, eyeing him skeptically.
"I'm VeJack," he offered. "Jack, really."
He seemed to be suffering no ill effects from the device in his neck, she noticed. How had this not raised an alarm of some kind?
The answer was that it had raised an alarm.
The light above the door to her cage flashed on and off and Una saw the robed alien from before heading toward her. The door swung open and the two Orion guards started inside. Una looked back at Jack, who was still holding out his hand, beckoning slightly as though to say, come on!
She didn't trust him. She didn't know him. This was a mistake.
After taking a tenth of a second to make peace with this knowledge Una grabbed his hand and they burst out into the enclosure.
Pain shot through Una's neck.
"I knew I was forgetting something!" She buckled under the force of it.
Her companion put a hand inside the front of his shirt and drew out a slim metal object: a pipe about 10 cm long and 1 cm in diameter. He shoved one end of it over the probe in her neck and twisted it. Una had the odd sensation of feeling it turn beneath her flesh; the pain snapped off as though a switch had been thrown inside her body. There was no time to contemplate this as her companion dragged her to her feet and pulled her along the rows of cages.
"Faster," he instructed. She obeyed, putting every ounce of strength into getting as much distance as possible between herself and her pursuers. They were running in and out of rows, between cages, through small pockets of crowds, trying to confuse their pursuers.
A group of Ferengi traders squawked audibly when Una careened past them.
"Filthy human!"
"…tore my sleeve…!"
"…place is a zoo…"
"Sorry!" she called breathlessly as they scowled.
They were nothing to worry about, but the giant Klingon carrying what looked like an entire armament's worth of weaponry was. He swore creatively when Una hit him and sent him stumbling. Jack propelled her forward, though, effectively vetoing any attempt to apologize.
Someone finally activated an audible alarm, though this one was not as lethal as the last Una had encountered. It blared through the rooms, disrupting the sale and dispersing the crowd. Many members of the throng seemed to think the alarm had something to do with them and were beating a hasty retreat. In the panic Una let go of her companion's hand and started to make her way toward what appeared to be an exit.
"This way!" her rescuer hissed, grabbing her tunic from behind before she could dart out of range. Guards were rampaging their way through the crowd from the direction she had been heading.
Una turned and followed him to the edge of the room where a narrow ventilation grid awaited them. Squirming their way through it, they ended up in a relatively clear foyer to a series of passageways. Una pulled herself out of the tube and first and started running without hesitation.
Jack was right behind her.
"Oh no you don't—you're not getting us caught now!" he pulled her arm back, swinging her down one of the passages. He pushed and dragged her to the end of the hall, where a closed door greeted them.
He urgently keyed a number into the control panel beside the door. Nothing happened.
"I'm going to get us caught?" Una shot as he tried the number unsuccessfully two more times. He glared at her and pulled a small half-moon object from his pocket. He stuck it on top of the keypad and tried the door once more. This time it slid open. Smirking, he pushed her through.
She wanted to hit him.
They appeared to be at one of the docking ports, one that was certainly not as high class as the last one Una had seen. The ships were junkers—pieces of scrap that were barely organized into vessels, in some cases. To her chagrin he pulled her along to one of the less savory craft. After haggling with the door a bit—Una strongly suspected that this was not actually his ship—the hatch sprung open.
It was no better on the inside than the outside. Whoever owned the ship no doubt used it as living space too, and living was rough, to say the least.
Beggars can't be choosers, thought Una as she made her way to the cockpit.
The alarm was still blaring through the station as Jack powered up the ship.
"Not to put a damper on your plans, but how do you think we're going to get out of here? They're not going to open the doors for us and I don't think this piece of junk is equipped with photon torpedoes."
His only answer was a slight smile and a knowing look. His hands moved quick and sure over the control panels, obviously asking the computer to execute some elaborate task.
"Take up to the launch bay doors," he instructed.
Una did as she was told, though the controls weren't easy to figure out. The ship was Naausican and its functional organization was not intuitive for a human.
They hovered outside the launch doors. Jack sat back and waited.
"Uh, what are you doing?"
"Waiting," Jack told her. He consulted a chronometer and did some quick calculations. "20 seconds."
The shuttle rocked sharply to one side, a crack sounding along the hull. It was the unmistakable sound of phaser fire.
"What is that supposed to mean, '20 seconds'? 20 seconds to what? Implosion? Explosion? Escape? 20 seconds to utter failure?"
The shuttle jolted sharply again, cutting off her ramble.
"10 seconds," he informed her.
The shuttle was bucking and pitching now. Had they been privy to a full view of the hangar they would have seen that half a dozen Orions were now approaching their position and preparing to fire at will.
One side of the craft suddenly jerked down sharply, sending everything inside tumbling to one side.
Una righted herself and consulted the controls. "The starboard engine's taken damage."
"How much?"
"It's down to 20" she informed him.
"20? After one direct hit?" he asked. "Are you sure?"
"Yes I'm sure!" she snapped. "You get what you pay for, you know."
He did not reply as the doors finally slid open before them. Reluctant but with little choice, they ventured lopsidedly out into the black yaw of space.