Chapter Three
A Shameful Truth
Crewwoman Mary Tigat, assigned to Security, Beta Shift, was deeply asleep in her bunk but the soul-rending cry of anguish behind her had her rolled over quickly, feet on the floor, body and mind alert and ready for battle. Her eyes instantly searched the room, finding nothing out of place except her roommate and fellow Security Officer, who was on her knees in the middle of their shared quarters, wailing in torment.
She glanced about again, the second instantaneous scan revealing nothing new. The chronometer on the wall before her imprinted the time on her consciousness; just past 1300 hours. She would have about two more hours before she had to get up for her 1600 shift. She pushed her sleep tousled black hair behind her shoulders, taking a third, more detailed look, wondering if she had missed something important, like the reason for her friend's distress.
Their quarters were unchanged, unoccupied except for Mary and the crying woman on her knees before her. She was dressed in her uniform, as opposed to Mary's somewhat rumpled nightclothes. Her roommate seemed uninjured, for what Mary could see, other than the fact that she was wailing as if her soul had been ripped from her body.
"Andrea!" She called sharply to the blonde woman almost at her feet, trying to fight down the surge of adrenaline that had launched her out of bed and into readiness for a life-or-death fight. "What the Hell is going on?"
Andrea Carstairs did not answer, but just pointed at the computer monitor screen set into the wall beside them. Mary looked, and felt all the blood drain from her face.
On the screen, in excruciating three dimensions and crystal clarity; was an image of Ensign Christine Meeth. She was naked and straddling the hips of Crewman Robert McKinski. In the instant frozen in time Christine was enthusiastically riding her partner of the evening, her entire body caught up in the throes of orgasmic delight.
Seconds later the image changed to one of Ensign Hoshi Sato, equally nude, locked in a passionate embrace with Lt. Seamus O'Cathain, their standing bodies straining together in wild passion. Seconds later this image was replaced by one just a few moments later; but this time in Hoshi's bed. The woman's body was just barely visible past O'Cathain's.
x
"They're going out everywhere!" Andrea exclaimed. Mary felt an icy hand grip her heart; and her legs gave out from under her as she landed on the edge of her bunk.
"What do you mean, 'everywhere'?" She gasped, horrified.
The blonde guard looked up, her face red, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Everywhere! They're on all the monitors on the ship. Everyone can see them!"
The image changed to one of a nude Andrea Carstairs herself. She was standing with her legs planted widely apart, her arms behind her back. Blue rope held her securely tied, crisscrossing her body, encircling her large breasts which were red with pressure of restrained blood. Moments later the scene changed a few seconds into the future, where her right breast was partially obscured by the black strap that had struck it hard, her flesh rippling from the heavy blow, her face reflecting her agony and her ecstasy.
Andrea had not been watching, but at Mary's unguarded look of shock, she turned and shrieked in torment, knowing everyone who was watching a monitor was seeing that image as well.
Mary bolted across the room and hit a control, turning the screen off. She stood, leaning against the wall, shaking, unable to think of what to say. She touched her forehead, finding it cold and wet. It was a long time before she could turn to her roommate, and the look in the kneeling woman's eyes was terrible to behold.
"You say the whole ship is seeing that?" She asked; her voice muted to a whisper. She was so horrified she could barely think.
Andrea nodded. "I'm ruined!" She exclaimed. "How can I ever show my face again?"
Mary, heart pounding so hard she could barely hear her friend, couldn't answer. She was still completely overcome by the horror. She could not believe this was happening. How? Who had –?
Turning around, her body blocking the view, she turned on the monitor again, hoping it was all just a nightmare, that she was still dreaming with three hours left for her shift – or that somehow the Command crew had gotten everything turned off.
It was well that Andrea could not see the screen, for she was again featured upon it. But this time Andrea was kneeling on her bunk, bent low, her face obscured between Mary's widely spread legs, her own hands stroking her breasts. Mary Tigat could not see her friend's face from that angle, the way it was buried deep between her own thighs, but she knew the image was of her friend. Her own face was a mask of delirious ecstasy. She remembered that day very well.
Her heart leaped into her throat at the thought of this image appearing on hundreds of other viewers, available to anyone who might have the chance to notice.
A moment later the image was blessedly gone, but replaced by one also in three dimensions and perfect clarity, this one of Commander Charles Tucker. He was standing in his quarters, completely disrobed, his body this time a treat for any woman who might be watching, if any had the nerve to endure the previous torment.
His body was partially obscured from hips down by the equally nude woman kneeling before him, her back to the camera. The woman's skin was tinted a vivid gold, her long golden hair hiding much of her back, but little more. But it was the position of her hands and head as she knelt there, and the expression on Tucker's face; that made even the obscured parts of the image clear.
Mary switched off the monitor, but her hands were shaking and her heart pounding as she turned to her friend. She was filled with such horror she had no idea what to say to the crying woman.
"Do … do they … know who …"
Andrea shook her head, her blonde hair flying. "I was assigned, with other Alpha Security, to have the monitors shut down, but everywhere I went I could see in their eyes … see in their … their eyes … I ran … I ran back here. I – I can't … can't go out there! Ever!"
Mary Tigat tried to stop her body from trembling, tried to keep the icy chill from crushing her heart, but she couldn't. "How long?" She couldn't speak above a horrified whisper.
"Two hours now." Andrea sobbed. "At ten second intervals, two hours!"
Mary had not thought she could feel more horrified, but she had been wrong. "Two hours? And they can't stop it?" Her friend shook her head miserably.
Mary could not keep from doing a fast mental calculation of ten second intervals over one hundred twenty minutes and she felt like her entire cosmos had opened up under her, and dropped her into a ghastly nightmare beyond imagining. "Andi – talk to me." Nothing. She crossed the room to their shared closet, reaching for a uniform even while tugging off her nightclothes. "Come on, we have a job to do. You've been ordered to cut off monitor access."
The blonde woman looked up, her eyes haunted by a soul searing torment. "I can't. I can't go out there. They know! Everybody knows!"
Mary turned to her friend, horror mounting on horror as she realized the cause and extent of her friend's torment.
x
Andrea had always considered her urges, her pleasures, to be something shameful. Normal women did not have desires to be hurt, to be subjugated, to be tied up and beaten to get their pleasure. It was sick. It was obscene. It was the mark of a diseased personality. The masochistic lusts she had were perverted, shameful, had to be kept hidden, buried away from everyone.
Though Mary did not share this view, she knew why her friend was so devastated.
She left the closet, stepping over and kneeling before the blonde woman, reaching out to take her arms. "Andi, listen, I know what you're feeling…" Andrea looked up at her, her eyes red with tears. "But at the risk of sounding like a cliché, it's not the end of the galaxy. I know it's hard, and you're ashamed, but we can't undo what's being done to us. We can only fight it. And stop it. Come on. We're Security! We have a job to do.""
Andrea shook her head miserably. "I can't fight it. It's out there. Everybody knows!"
x
Mary sighed, frustrated. "Yes, people know. I wish I could undo it, but I can't! They know about every woman on board this ship. All our secrets, all our passions, mine included!" Andrea shook her head, and Mary grasped her arms more tightly, frustrated and scared and growing angry as a result. "Yes, all of us. I'm a flaming lesbian, for God's sake; but do you think I care who knows? I never did.
"When Kathy left we didn't part on good terms at all. I thought we'd come to blows long before she transferred off. But even though it left me alone, you stuck by me. Neither of us have 'partners', but you and I are partners. You do for me and I do for you. I'm not a sadist and you're not a lesbian, but we help each other because we're all we have. We give strength to each other, and comfort, and we get through the loneliness. And we're going to strengthen and comfort each other through this as well." She was relived to see her friend's eyes change, as hope once again entered them. "And if there's anything good that can come of this nightmare, maybe we'll find partners we couldn't find bef –."
x
She was unprepared when Andrea violently shoved her. She landed on her back as the woman was suddenly on her feet, her face contorted in fury. "NO. I can't! There is no way. They know – and I can't live with the shame. I can't live with it!"
Mary, looking up from the floor, was more deeply horrified than ever to see a gleaming blade clutched in Andrea's hand. She hadn't seen it before as the woman had been hunched over, but now it glistened in the light. "Andi…"
Years of training helped level her voice, to keep her tone calm, cautious as she looked up at the distraught woman. "Andi, wait a second. Please." She did not try to get up, did not reach for her, reaching instead with her quiet tone and encouraging eyes. Andrea turned the blade to her own chest, and Mary fought to keep her heart from leaping into her throat. "Andi." She said very, very carefully. "Let's talk."
Andrea Carstairs did not move, and Mary took it as a hopeful sign that she did not plunge the gleaming blade into her own chest. Very carefully, very slowly, never for an instant breaking eye contact, Mary climbed to her feet. "Honey, it's not over. You don't want to do this." Mary's heart skipped a beat as Andrea pressed the point of the knife between her breasts, but did not even cut her uniform.
"I have to. I can't go like this!" The woman cried.
"Andi, please. Give me time." She fought to resist reaching out, fought to resist the urgency in her own heart, fought to keep her tone calm and level. She was too far away to touch her. Any motion might set the woman off. "You don't have to leave these quarters. You can stay inside. I'll fix it with Lt. Reed, with the Captain. I'll get you a transfer, quietly. You never have to see anyone. I'll get you anything you want. I swear it."
"It won't do any good. I can't go anywhere that they won't know. People will talk. It'll get out. I was so careful, kept it secret for so long. No one knew, but now they'll find out. They'll know how shameful I am. It'll get back home. My mother…!"
"Andi…"
"No! I can't do it. This is the only way!" She raised the blade high and Mary leaped for her, tackling her before she could bring it plunging down into her own chest, her left hand clutching the distraught woman's wrist, holding it up and out. Andrea landed hard on her back with Mary atop her, the smaller woman clutching her forearm, pinning it down on the deck, trying to immobilize the blade without hurting her friend. She never expected the left hook that cracked into her jaw.
Andrea shoved the stunned woman off her, and only needed an instant more. By the time Mary was able to get to her knees beside her friend it was too late. The blonde woman held the blade handle tightly against her chest as blood gushed out, soaking the front of her uniform!
Knowing that seconds counted, Mary did not even try to reach for the woman, but stood and dashed for the intercom at the far wall. "Medical Emergency; Deck D, Room 89!" She exclaimed, knowing her call would be automatically routed to Sick Bay. "There's been a stabbing in crew quarters!"
xxx
In Sick Bay, Phlox and Ensign Dina Samuels, the latter on limited duty while recuperating from injuries suffered in the disastrous First Contact with the Capellans barely a week ago, were cataloging supplies, disposing of those nearing the end of their usefulness and preparing to replicate more, when the urgent call came in. Phlox did not waste a moment, striding quickly for the doors, plucking a trauma case off a shelf as he passed. Dina reached for the intercom, acknowledging the call; then keying another channel.
Moments later, the urgent call was automatically relayed to the Ready Room. "Sick Bay to Captain Archer."
"Archer."
"Ensign Samuels, sir. Dr. Phlox is en route to crew quarters, D/89. The only report we have is that a crewman has been stabbed." Turning off the channel, she started to gather and lay out all the operating equipment the Doctor would need, and to prepare the Sick Bay to receive a trauma patient.