In the Hall of the Mountain King - Chapter 3
By Asso
Rating:
PG-13Genres: angst, adventure, romance, drama
Things become complicated, ever more, I continue to think.
And once again thank you very much, Linda, who once more wanted to support me with your precious help.
In the grip. No escape. A few moments, and fate will be done.
The beautiful woman has not even the strength to breathe, now.
Fear, pain, shame.
Death.
A last thought, desperate. Invoking. - (*Trip...*)
And...
A strange sort of perception, with some kind of... a hint... of curiosity flashes through what is about to erase, forever and in such a hair-raising way, the woman's life and all its dreams, all that it has been and might yet be.
It's a sort of thought, an idea.
A question.
'What's... Trip?'
And then, another perception, external this time. It's a noise... distant.
And again a thought. Coherent.
'What's this... this noise? Yes. Noise.'
The desperate invocation, from the woman's desperate soul, comes out one last time. Feeble, broken, dead. - (*Trip...*)
And a glimmer of cognizance, coming from such an antique yore that no trace of it can be found by now, shines again. Suddenly.
'What's Trip? Who... who, yes... who is... he? He. Yes.'
The noise, once more. It's... a voice. A voice, yes. A scream. It's a name yelled out.
'A name, yes.'
"T'POL !"
Far, despairing, powerful, strong. And full of fear. Of fear for...
'For T'Pol, yes. For T'Pol.'
It's a roar, mighty, minacious, puissant. Desperately invoking, it too. And indomitable.
'Yes... indomitable.'
"T'POL !"
And the unnameable stops.
Hunger and longing halt, and that's unprecedented. Never did it happened before.
But they, hunger and longing, have to await, because an incomprehensible intelligence, so ancient that it can't even remember itself, starts again to be. To work. To think. To wonder.
To plan.
It looks - if it's possible to call its action so - at the naked, wonderful woman, who shudders in a terror which is without name, which she didn't know there might be, against which no Vulcan training can do anything, no logic, no control, because it's too abhorrent the touch she feels on her katra, the horrifying fingering in her brain of another brain, a brain, an essence so foreign and so strange as to be unmentionably fearsome. A thing without soul, living for destroying, for annihilating the anima and the body.
A thing awfully cold.
Abysmally hungry.
'T'Pol... It's you T'Pol? And... Trip... why does he... - he, yes. -... why is he here?'
Knowledge and abilities, almost forgotten, return quickly to the light.
'Because of you?'
And with knowledge and abilities, rises also a new feeling. A feeling, yes.
'For you?'
Hope.
"Captain..."
Malcolm's voice shakes me.
"There must be something to do. T'Pol... Commander T'Pol... would find a way to act, maybe elaborating some of her mate's intuitions."
A decision. Sudden. Unexpected.
Incredible.
I straighten up. We cannot surrender in this way.
"Lieutenant, Ensign Sato. Examine again all that Bannerdas transmitted to us and also all that we recorded about the planet. Everything. I'm sure we can find something important that we didn't notice before and, in any case, we have to plan the way to reach the planet regardless of the fact we cannot detect anything from it, so your researches can be very useful for this purpose."
"Yes, Captain.
"Yes, Sir."
"Mister Dougal."
"Captain?"
"Make ready a plan to go ashore with great force. The planet is concealed, but it still has to be here. Use Lieutenant Reed's abilities and knowledge in order to plan ahead for this."
"Yes, Captain."
"Mister Mayweather."
"Sir?"
"Be ready to follow Major Dougal and Lieutenant Reed's instructions. Enterprise has to do everything it can. And even more."
"Yes, Sir."
"Doctor..."
"You know I'm ready for anything, Captain."
"I know. Excellency..."
"Captain, we are not an action race, but we will do all that we can, and very swiftly. We will scrutinize everything we can find about the planet. Please, tell your officers to feel free to contact our scientists and our technicians in order to have all information that is able to help you to perform your task and to achieve your... our aim. We will see you later. Transmission out."
I stare at the blank screen. I don't know what the hell will happen, now. But...
(*We will rescue you, T'Pol, and your man. We will find you two. We won't permit your story to end like this. I... we... swear! *)
A decision, yes, a decision never taken before.
And the moment the defenceless woman almost goes falling into insanity because of the repugnant invasion, she is instead pushed to fall, mercifully, in the deepest unconsciousness.
Then, a sole instant is sufficient. A brief instant. And a whole life - feelings, dreams, fears, hopes, shames, marvels, shadows, lights, pains, joys - becomes known, entirely.
Everything becomes known.
Also - especially, above all - Trip.
Trip.
'T'Pol's... love? Yes. Love.'
The unworldly look comes again on the woman, who sleeps now, again. Wondrous and at the mercy of what by now knows everything about her.
And about Trip.
It follows the mild curves of her splendid, nude body.
Her lips, turgid and... and fragrant. Yes, fragrant.
And something rises. A... a sweetness, yes... a far sweetness. Lost in the cloak of time.
A lost memory of... a laugh? A laugh, yes.
Remote.
A... a feel.
Of a female. A female, yes.
Far.
Far.
Who doesn't exist any more.
But she existed, one time, and her bleary memory takes with it the understanding.
'Trip is your love, T'Pol, isn't he?'
It's so.
'Your hope.'
Yes.
'Your only hope.'
HOPE!
And attention focuses on the man.
On T'Pol's love.
"We are ready, Captain."
"Explain, Mister Reed."
"If we well understood your idea, you think the planet is yet there, somewhere, simply concealed from our sight and from any detection device, for the whole range of the radiations spectrum and for any other emission genre."
"I think so, Mister Reed." - (*I... hope... so. *) - "Things do not get lost in the nil, and no energy has been picked up by us or by Bannerdas. Nothing."
"So, Captain, the problem is how to calculate the planet's exact position, and once we have reached it, finding a way to take Enterprise extremely close to the mountain, although we cannot detect anything from the planet and in spite of those terrifying stormy dark rain clouds constantly enshrouding the mountain and those consequent awful tempests which forced us to try to reach the massif by foot, the first time."
"Ahem..."
"And obviously in spite of the fact that we do not have any sign of the clouds, of the storms and of the mountain itself."
"Mister Reed..."
"And also that no transmission is possible below a certain altitude."
"Malcolm..."
"A cakewalk."
"Mister Reed!"
"Ah. And I was forgetting that, once all this is done, we have to debark a lot of men on the mountain, to find a way they can enter it, if - like we suspect and it's logical to suppose by the fact that the signal sprung from it - Commander T'Pol was dragged into it, with Commander Tucker in tow, at least we hope, because - otherwise - ..."
"Malcolm! Are you all ready or not?"
Sometimes I think Trip's deportment is too contagious, and nobody seems immune. Not even Malcolm, it sounds.
But this isn't enough to justify Malcolm's unexpected and sarcastic tone. That's not what I expected from him, and I feel anger grow inside me.
Then I notice his face, tired and somber, and I understand that once more I'm forcing my officers to work to the extreme, burdening them with my disappointment and my fears, careless of their feelings and of their own fears.
In the brief arc of two days, Malcolm had to face things absolutely in opposition to reality to his well settled and schematic mind, which is extremely difficult to bear for him; he has been manhandled, he had to tolerate an immense fatigue even in his condition; he didn't sleep since the time we camped in that glade. Sure, all of us didn't sleep, but, and this is the point, he has to live with the vision of his friends, taken away by the forest, without him being able to do anything to prevent that, and with the thought, typical of him, that he wasn't capable of doing his job.
I breathe deeply, before I speak words I might repent. I have learned from my past experience that a Captain has to be strong, sure, capable, rightful, clever, audacious, and much else besides, if he wants to be a true leader. But, above all, he has to be a friend, authoritative, that's for sure, but capable of being receptive and compassionate. In short a real guide, commanding, but at the same time sympathetic and understanding. This is a true boss. He has to not shut himself up inside his authority, if he doesn't want his authority to turn into a useless and disruptive authoritarianism.
And never again I will permit myself to fall into the same errors I made in the past.
I smile, genially and teasingly.
"So, Lieutenant, you seem to want to demonstrate to me that it's better we rescue Commander Tucker very swiftly, if we want to prevent you from taking his place with regard to his peculiar behavioural mood."
If the situation were not the one we are in, I could find pricelessly amusing Malcolm's expression at my words, but I become speechless at HIS following words.
"And I think, Captain, it's better we rescue Commander T'Pol very swiftly, if we want to prevent you from taking her place with regard to her peculiar stilted phrasing."
We watch each other for some time, then I speak, gravely. - "We will rescue them, Mal."
"No doubt, Captain, because you're right."
"You mean?"
Malcolm speaks gravely, in his turn. - "The planet is still there, Captain. I'm sure - the Bannerdas are sure - that your intuition is correct, and I think that, with the help of Bannerda scientists and technicians, we found the way to reach the planet and to go near the mountain. As to how to handle those stormy clouds and those tempests, we have no response, Captain, but... well... is Travis the best helmsman of Starfleet or he is not? In addition I think some photon torpedoes can be useful to partially dissolve the clouds, only we have to calculate the exact moment. And as to the communications' absence... Captain... women and men of the different sections of our ship are capable of doing their job automatically and autonomously, you know it. There's no strict need to communicate between us by means of OC, I can reasonably forecast, considering, besides, that all of us will be on the bridge and that in Engineering there's Hess in command, the best pupil of Trip, in his own words. Anyway, emergency communication with Engineering could be assured by means of a chain of men, ready to transmit your orders to each other. Difficult, but possible: the training of my men provided for this sort of thing."
Malcolm stares intensely at me.
"And major Dougal, Captain, developed a plan in order to debark his men and to allow them to enter the mountain, with Enterprise's help, if necessary. It is maybe a slightly unusual plan and... bizarre, but we think it can work. A perfect mix of Human war arts and Bannerda technological knowledge. They didn't deny their aid for this, and their military chief, who worked with Dougal, thinks the world of Dougal's ability and skilfulness."
I sit down in my command armchair, my look not leaving Malcolm's.
For the first time since we swooped down into this absurdity I feel hope. The Bannerdas think I'm right and Malcolm is telling me that he, Hoshi and the Bannerdas contrived a way to go to the planet and that Dougal knows how to act.
I place my arms on the armrests, leaning my back against the backrest.
Our eyes remain meaningfully locked with each other, while I talk. - "Explain."
Torn, wounded and bloodied.
Wheezing.
Weary, exhausted.
And untamed.
He searches, he climbs up, he slips, he tumbles.
And he stands up, and he tumbles again, and he stands up, once more.
And he searches again, without rest, without respite.
He thrashes and smites the rocks with his fists.
He yells.
"T'POL! T'POOL!"
Without breath, he still screams.
"I'm here, I'm here! Why don't I feel you again?"
In despair.
"What happened to you? WHAT?"
But still untamed and indefectible, with a will and a hope which don't flex.
With a strength which doesn't cede.
"I will reach you, and I will take you out of there! Do not doubt! AND WOE TO whoever or whatever DARES TO TOUCH YOU!"
He doesn't surrender, is frantic in his efforts.
He knows he has no string to his bow, and he doesn't surrender.
'He doesn't surrender.'
Now the thoughts begin to come one after the other, easy.
'He will die, but he won't surrender.'
Why? How come?
From where comes this strength, this crazy persistency?
'From love?'
Observing, thinking, wondering, pondering...
Being again, almost, what has been long ago, immemorially long ago.
And reasoning...
Again.
Planning...
Pondering, pondering, pondering...
'How puissant is this strength?'
The inhuman sense goes again, pensively, to the sleeping woman, unaware of what she had starting.
'What level can it reach? '
A cakewalk, sure. Malcolm was right.
We are at stake now, finally. We are doing our cakewalk.
I smile sardonically to myself. And in what other way could what we are doing be called?
A cakewalk. Reaching the planet simply using and trusting the calculations Malcolm and Travis made, taking their stand on what we recorded about the planet's orbit and on the regional space cartography Bannerdas gave us. Without being able to do any useful triangulation, to establish any visual coordinate, or whatever else which could guide us.
A cakewalk. Gliding with the enormous mass of Enterprise through an atmosphere we can't detect, toward a destination we can't see, following the second after second virtual environmental reconstruction our computer will do, elaborating Bannerdas' information.
A cakewalk, Travis, isn't it? Handling those storms? Without seeing or perceiving them? But... Travis... - (*How said Malcolm? *) - ...Are you the best helmsman of Starfleet or you are not?
A cakewalk. T'Pol would tell us we are acting as the usual crazy and illogical species we are. Arching her eyebrow, and... staying at our side, together with us, between us, madder and more illogical than us, provoking her mate's teasing and tender hilarity, and...
"Captain."
"Hoshi?"
"His Excellency asks for you. Privately."
Within a very short time we will begin our approach path, hoping we will arrive on time, for... for whatever could happen, for whatever is happening. What the hell does His Excellency want, just now?
"On my quarters screen, Hoshi."
"Yes, Captain."
I reach my quarters quickly and the stern figure of His Excellency appears on my screen. Well. Maybe it's because of these odd circumstances, but...
I observe His Excellency's features. And I notice, as if it were the first time ...
He looks Human, sure. But he has a hint of ridges on his forehead, like Klingons have. And his eyebrows are arched, like those of Vulcans. And his skin turns toward an azurine gradation, like Andorian skin, even if some green tones, like on the Orion skin, can be noticed on his face. And his mouth is expressive, like the Denobulan mouth. And...
Hey! But what are they, these thoughts? His Excellency is a Bannerda, yes. Nothing else. A member of a very old race, well known everywhere.
(*Well known? How much... well known? And how old? It's possible... it's possible that nobody noticed how its traits seem to be a... a mixture, yes... a mixture of every humanoid race we know? *)
I shake myself. I prefer not to wonder what all this means. For now.
"Excellency..." - I can't restrain myself. Who knows why the hell I feel the need of uttering these words? - "I suppose you desire to wish good luck to the crazy and illogical species we are, right?"
He is caught out. His face shows it clearly. Then he recovers swiftly.
"Our military chief told me this, Captain."
"What?"
"That your race is mad and illogical. And bold. Deign of admiration."
"Ah..."
"She..."
"She?"
"She, yes. Something wrong?"
"Not... not at all, Excellency."
"She told me your Major Dougal is indeed proficient and skilful."
"I see."
"And that if your species' men are like him, she can understand why your Commander T'Pol wanted to join Starfleet. Particularly..." - There's a strange smile, now on His Excellency's face. And... how much it reminds me Phlox's smiles! - " ... but it is only hearsay, definitely... particularly in regard to a certain Chief Engineer."
My face becomes somber, and His Excellency notices it.
"Captain." - He speaks gravely. - "You will find them."
"I hope, Excellency."
"But, maybe, we can help you in some other way."
I clench my eyes. - "Meaning?"
"Captain, please, allow your translator officer to come here. Her well know skillfulness is needed. Here."
I can't help but lift my eyebrow, à la T'Pol. "Excellency?"
"Yes. And also your security officer's abilities. He, too, is needed here."
"E... Excellency?"
"We find something."
"Excellency, we're about to start our..."
"Captain, our plan doesn't need Ensign Sato, and not even Lieutenant Reed. You, yourself, Mister Mayweather and Mister Dougal with his MACOs are all that you need, beside your perfectly practiced crew and Engineer Hess, that's for sure. But I'm persuaded Ensign Sato and Lieutenant Reed would be really more useful if they came here, on our world."
"Excellency, maybe it could be true, even if I'm unable to understand how Ensign Sato and Lieutenant Reed can be more useful there rather than here, but, in any case, it's impossible that they can go there without being transported by means of Enterprise."
"Captain, allow me to say you're wrong. We have an energy transporting system, similar to yours, but more evolved. It's the system we use to travel between the worlds which compose our circumscribed dominion, without us having the necessity of spaceships. It can work over not too long a distance, but your ship is in the active range. Obviously the distance between our world and your spaceship is very great, still our technicians think it's possible. An enormous amount of energy will be needed, but you can deliver it for some brief instants, which is what is necessary. The problem is that the system needs a departure station and an arrival station, for working, it's unidirectional, otherwise we could have used it to go to the planet when the signal started, even though I'm sure we wouldn't have been more capable than you about the exploration task. Nevertheless we can work as an arrival station and you as a departure station. Your Engineer Hess, for what I was able to hear about her, is capable of making the needed modifications to your own system in a few minutes, following our instructions, in very less than the time you have to wait to reach the planet. There will be no consequence or interference to your schedule."
"Excellency, what have you found?"
"A book, Captain."
This is something which never happened in the past, during the many times it needed to violate and devour so many splendid bodies... so many virginal souls. For being again, for living, for gaining some time yet, as the shadow of what has been at one time.
'Nobody has been able to follow those souls. No man. Why now is he here? Can he be so strong? So strong that...' - The unfathomable look turns again on the man. - '...that...'
The look switches between the furious and despairing man and the unconscious woman, cause of his lucid delirium, of his frenzied efforts.
'You two can feel each other. What does this mean? Is this a sign? Could this mean that...' - The look focuses powerfully on the man. - '...that your force is so great? That she can make you so strong? So strong that...' - And again the expectant thought. - '...that...'
Uncertainty.
That never has been felt, before.
Uncertainty.
Is it possible that this man - this Trip - can be...?
'Is it possible?'
And if not true? If a mistake? An... an illusion, yes.
'This could be the end, the real end.'
But... and if it were true?
The look returns to the woman, as if searching for a response.
And it finds it.
"Are you two ready?"
"Yes, Captain."
"Yes, Sir."
"I don't know why the hell His Excellency didn't want to reveal to me anything of this... this book, but he seemed to be absolutely sure of its importance. And of the necessity of the help of the two of you. And just now, in addition. Anyway he told me there's a way we can have useful information that you two can find, even if we are on the planet; it is something related to the same tele-transport system used by the Bannerdas."
"We have to trust them, Captain. Whatever can be useful must be pursued."
"Yeah, you're right, Hoshi." - "I smile, sympathetically. - "I hope you can find this experience more agreeable than it was in the past."
A swift look at Malcolm, who is standing at her side, very near her.
"I think I will be able to bear it, now, Captain."
I blink. "Very well."
I go toward the OC, to order Hess to do what she has to do.
I look one last time at... the couple. And the same words I said, one time, to our missing friends go spontaneously to my mouth.
"I expect you to keep him in line, Hoshi."
"I'll do my best, Captain."
I nod. I'm not sure if I was capable of concealing completely my face's surprised expression, hearing Hoshi pronounce the same, precise sentence T'Pol said, at that time.
"Hess."
"Captain?"
"Now."
"Yes, Sir."
All becomes dark. A sort of deep thunderclap. Brief.
Then everything returns to normal.
And Malcolm and Hoshi are no longer on the dais.
'Oh yes. Your beauty can do this.'
The woman is marvellous. Her body is enchanting and tempting.
'Your beauty, your love, can really give your man such an incredible force.'
Beauty... what a... tempting body...
'Your... beauty... can...'
The perfume, the fragrance.
'...can...'
The view of her smooth skin. The perception of her firm flesh.
'...can...'
The heartbreaking recall of her turgid lips.
The mild curves of her breasts. Of her hips. Of her thighs.
The irresistible attraction of her arms. Of her embrace.
Her svelte legs.
The siren call of her deepest flower.
The charming claim of her limpid soul.
Of... her... BEING!
'...can...'
The memories... the age-old memories, which the new status, the renewed awareness take on, give a refreshed desire, an unconquerable vigour.
An unstoppable wish.
And all lucidity gets erased. All becomes bedimmed. All is lost. The primordial bunch of infernal needs regains its potency, it explodes once more.
Craving!
Cupidity!
Covetousness!
Lustfulness!
Hankering!
Greediness!
Concupiscence!
Hunger!
Hunger!
It's impossible to resist.
HUNGER!
Longing!
Necessity. NECESSITY! NECESSITY!
TAKING!
POSSESSING!
POSSESSING!
HAVING!
HAVING HER!
A flash, and the woman is enwrapped again.
She will be taken by rape which goes way beyond physical violence. It will be a possession of the soul. Of everything that is her.
Total. Unconditioned. Absolute.
And nothing of her will be left, evermore.
Okay. Here we are.
I sit down in my command chair.
(*All is in your hands, Mister Mayweather. *)
"Excellency."
"Welcome here, Lieutenant, and also to you, Ensign."
"Thanks, Excellency. Please, do not get annoyed, but we have to act apace."
"Sure, Mister Reed. Please, follow me."
For the second time the woman regains her consciousness, under the awful attack. Once again her sparkling, dark eyes snap open in terror. Sparkling, yes... with tears of horror and despair.
And from her soul bursts out an ear-piercing yell.
It's a shriek of gruesomeness and of unspeakable affright, a silent and still earsplitting cry for help.
NOOOOO!TRIP! TRIIIP!
And suddenly...
A clatter, an uproar, a clash, at the edges of perception, which can't be ignored.
And a scream. Puissant and triumphant.
"YEEEESSSS!"
And the infamous rape has to stop, because the incredible has happened.
The look, the extramundane look, watches. And sees.
And it marvels.
A breach has been opened, in the mountain's face, and, amid the debris, among dust and mulch, a figure is standing up.
In the mountain's interior.
It begins to run, to roll down, to get up again, to throw itself along the burrow which goes down, toward the mountain's bowels, in the dirty light which seeps through the opening that is there now in place of the previous rocky diaphragm, careless of the dark it will find deeper down, careless of any peril, careless of anything but its purpose.
Still yelling.
Victorious.
"I told you! I told you! I'm inside! I have arrived! Resist, Hon! Hold on! I'm here! I'M HERE!"
Enterprise rolls and shakes. Vehemently.
We look to each other.
"Captain, I think we are in the middle of the stormy clouds."
I nod.
"Yes, Mister Dougal. I think you're right."
"You are right, Captain. You were right. The planet is still there, it didn't get lost in the void."
I breathe deeply.
"Yes, Major. So..."
"So the Commanders are still there."
"I hope so, Major Dougal, I hope so. And also I hope Mister Reed wasn't wrong when he told us that the improvements he made to our shields using the Bannerdas' instructions would be capable of protecting our ship."
"The photon torpedoes we shot, at the right calculated time, should have dispelled in some way a lot of clouds, according with our ideas and our plans. And, evidently, even in our forced blindness and deafness, we thought and acted well, so far."
"Sure, but..."
Lights explode, suddenly, with a big clangour, while the ship is appallingly shaken. Emergency lights come into action and the sound of the alarm sirens fills red air.
I leap out from my command chair and reach Travis, who is desperately trying to keep Enterprise in line.
"Engineering!"
"Here Hess, Captain."
"Stabilize! Immediately."
"Cap..."
"Hess..."
I'm near Travis, looking at his console. "Hess!"
"Communication system doesn't work, Captain, how expected."
"Okay, Major. So..."
I can't finish my sentence. A tremendous flutter jolts Enterprise, ripping the ground from beneath my feet.
I fall, like many other men, yelling "Travis!", and, while attempting to stand up, all becomes dark and all engine noise stops.
"Dougal!"
"Captain! There's absolutely no energy! Vital supports failure!"
"Travis!"
"Rudder is dead!"
"Travis..."
"We plummet, Captain. It's true that the planet is there, it is attracting us, I noticed this before. And no control is possible!"
The shaking does not halt, it is continuous.
All of us attempt to stand, in the dark, trying to seize something useful for help, among the scary waggles which run along the whole ship, among the unnatural absence of any structural noise from Enterprise, breathing an air which is becoming more and more cold, which very soon will no longer be there.
But things won't end because of the vital supports failure, there will be no time, for ending in this way.
I feel the terrorized disbelief of everyone, while we run headlong toward death.
End of Chapter Three
Complicated? I think this is not the right word.
Things are something else than "complicated", in my opinion. Do you agree, my friends?
Now, what will occur, for Pete's sake?
I hope you will want to know it reading the next chapter.
TBC