Chapter 5
Mars, Sol System
Sam felt the crunch of red soil and rock underneath the thick boots of the suit she wore, and reveled in the sheer feeling of awe, wonder and satisfaction as she gazed over the hazy red landscape. Technically, she was the first woman on Mars, at least from the perspective of the Extra-Universal Odyssey Six. Part of her was also enthralled at the technological wizardry what she was wearing.
It was what would be known as a CHS or Combat HardSuit. It was custom fitted for its wearer's body and fit like a glove for comfort and ease of movement. With the addition of its contoured Helmet it was vacuum-rated, and it's outward appearance could be easily adapted with digital camouflage patterns appropriate to whatever environment a MACO would find him or herself in (in this case, her suit was colored entirely in rippling patterns of white and matt red) and it's most impressive feature was the addition of Absorption systems which would soak up any energy or kinetic weapon fire like a sponge and leave the wearer unharmed – she wryly thanked the Goa'uld Anubis for showing the idea of that technology to the SGC, by using it in his Kull Warriors.
Also integrated into the CHS was a Sodan Personal Cloak; it shifted its user partially into another dimension slightly out of phase with the real world thereby rendering him or her invisible. The SGC had initially used it quite successfully to conduct reconnaissance on worlds conquered by the Ori, after refitting the technology to be useful for human physiology, but an unforeseen side-effect was that it let native 'creatures' from that dimension leak into the 'real' universe. The device usually emitted a type of radiation to repulse the creatures, but it was generally lethal to humans…now with the CHS also hardened against radiation, that shielded the wearer.
As icing on the cake, contoured through the suit like veins, especially around the arms and legs were micro-fusion powered graviton emitters that acted in the same principle as hydraulics. Once activated, it effectively enhanced her strength and running speed by quite a few orders of magnitude. She had attained a speed of sixty kilometers per hour with no more effort on her own part that a standard jog would demand, not to mention make jumps of over ten meters. Making the CHS the first ever powered armor that she had seen in both Universes.
There were also security features in place, since the CHS was so powerful. If anybody went rogue with the thing, a Command-level authorization could be sent to the suit itself and cause the rogue user into making a nice impression of a statue. It was also biometrically encoded so that any attempt to examine it by someone who didn't have the right technology or human DNA sequence for that matter, would cause an overload of its power systems and make a nice crater.
What actually amazed her though was that she had not even come up with the idea of the CHS. Admiral Landry and General Casey had both sat down in front of the Asgard Core and somehow come up with this little miracle of integration and technology. There was already an elite, high level clearance, MACO squad training with them.
Her mind turned to the landscape around her; she was standing at the very edge of a famous area, as one hundred and seventy odd years ago (at least in this Universe) the Viking 2 lander had touched down. Many rocks appeared perched in the area, as if wind removed much of the soil at their bases. A hard surface crust formed by solutions of minerals moving up through soil and evaporating at the surface.
This was the eastern perimeter of Utopia Planitia.
The subspace radio in her helmet chirped for attention.
"Carter here."
"Captain Carter, we've finished," came the excited voice of Commander Qin.
"Excellent, beam me back."
Her perception was distorted with the very familiar white haze of an Asgard style transporter. The moment transport was complete; she twisted and lifted off her helmet tucking it under her arm and walking the last few meters towards the end of the massive Shipyard 20.
It was over one point six kilometers in length, three hundred meters high by two hundred wide. She felt practically dwarfed walking in the vast empty space, and her footsteps echoed eerily off the distant walls.
Shipyard 20 was the last in a series of vast underground ship construction areas that was hollowed out of Utopia Planitia over a period of twenty five years under the direction of the old United Earth Intelligence Agency before it was renamed and absorbed into Starfleet Intelligence after it had been chartered. Utopia Yards had begun construction in 2090 when the UEIA made the prudent decision that with Earth now rebuilt and united under one banner that they couldn't afford just to rely on the Vulcans for protection against the great unknown, and Earth had to build the capacity to rapidly expand its Fleet at a moment's notice. So when the equipment used to rebuild Earth was returned to Vulcan, some were declared damaged and 'scrapped' and then sent under great secrecy to Mars.
Secrecy forced the construction to take place at a snail's pace, thankfully though a lot of Vulcan equipment was automated to a degree, and could continue with minimal oversight.
The need for the Utopia Yards had thus far never materialized. The Earth Shipyard was more than enough to meet the needs of Starfleet, whilst Jupiter Station satisfied the need of a civilian merchant fleet under the jurisdiction of the Earth Cargo Authority.
This made Utopia Planitia a perfect place to house the Stargate.
The iconic device was situated at the end of Shipyard 20, in a setup much like a mirror of the one in the SGC, except that here they were using its accompanying DHD to control the Stargate. The Gate was held upright and in its position with four evenly spaced Superconductor clamps that was connected to the Shipyard's power supply – should the DHD ever fail for some reason. A solid duranium ramp led up into the Gate's maw and on either side with perfect fields of fire on that maw was four Phase Cannons.
It was totally unnecessary, but Sam couldn't rule out that there wasn't something like the Stargate in this Galaxy that could connect to the new 'Utopia' Gate.
Surrounding the Utopia Stargate was all a manner of scientific equipment, desks littered with Padds, all of it directed to study its inner workings. At the moment three members of Sam's Section 31 Engineering team was busy around it, making sure that everything was perfect for the Gate's first activation attempt – frequency and seismic dampeners, power feeds, Iris controls and mechanisms, everything that made operating the Stargate a smooth process.
Feeling satisfied at their progress she walked off to where a nearby door that led to the adjoining labs and component production lines of Shipyard 20. Another long hallway greeted her here with marked doors on either side, ten meters down she stopped and opened the door to her own lab.
This lab was a dream come true for her and she momentarily wished she could pinch herself through her CHS. It was large, with two hundred square meters of floorspace and filled with every modern scientific instrument that United Earth had that would be useful in her work. Of course, the most important piece of equipment was a physical duplicate of the Asgard Core that stood proudly at the far end of the Lab.
Sitting in front of the Core's neo-Norse design control panel and intently reading the large display was her immediate subordinate Commander Nancy Qin. She was a shorter woman hailing of Chinese ethnicity, and was in her early thirties, with long black hair tied in a regulation braid and wearing the blue Starfleet jumpsuit with red shoulder piping. She had initially been a Starfleet Engineering graduate at the Academy, but SI had wanted her for her talent at micro-Engineering ('I built better and smaller bugs' she often joked.) Section 31 eventually decided to recruit her when they saw her potential in working with the classified technologies only they had access to.
"Captain," Qin nodded with a brief smile. "Hope you had a nice walk. How's the CHS?"
"Brilliant, I feel more comfortable in it than wearing PJs," Sam grinned.
"I just want to know how you're supposed to go to the bathroom with that thing. It doesn't seem easy to take off…"
"You don't have to," Sam laughed. "You connect the suit directly to…ehem…your plumbing and it recycles the water you expel and vaporizes the solid wastes."
"I suppose that would come in handy for long duration missions," Qin mused. "Anyway, Captain, as you saw we're finished with the Stargate in all respects, all we need now is word from Odyssey that they've deployed another Gate on Alpha Site."
"How are the automated Particle Miners coming along?" Sam asked, she wondered if she would ever cease to be amazed at the wealth of knowledge the Asgard truly had. Being a diminutive, physically weak Race meant that they had to compensate by developing devices and technology that would replace physical labor in nearly every respect. Mining, which was traditionally the most labor intensive of all pursuits usually engaged in by civilization, was completely automated by the Asgard using a device that sent a specialized deep penetrating Transporter beam directly into the earth and would selectively dematerialize the specific elements wanted. It would then be rematerialized in large ingots for easy transport and eventual utilization in construction. They were designed to fit through the Gate and fly to the location of mineral veins.
And best of all, they would replace the mined volume with normal dirt taken from somewhere else…meaning that the environmental impact of the mining was very minimal.
"A hundred units are ready for transition through the Stargate the moment Odyssey signals. We've also finished installing the Stealth devices in S20, which should mask any energy emissions of the Stargate from detection."
"You've been busy," Sam raised her eyebrows in surprise.
"When you're working with technology like this, it's easy," shrugged Nancy.
"Ladies."
Nancy and Sam turned to see Mr Harris standing the doorway with his usual enigmatic smile on his face, wearing his equally usual black leather 'Section 31' uniform. Sam didn't like the uniform much, despite having one herself, she felt vaguely ridiculous wearing them, not to mention their 'Gestapo' like style. Luckily they were only to be worn in certain controlled situations and only within Section 31 facilities.
"Mr Harris," Sam nodded at her actual 'boss', Harris was Director of Operations in S31. He insisted on only being called by that name and title for operational security.
"Good morning, Sir," Nancy's face became serious.
Harris walked over to them and handed Sam a Padd without fanfare. "Take a look and give me your opinion."
Sam switched the Padd on and used its touchscreen to access the files on it. It was mainly a list of schematics, and looked to be for a new class of starship, she finally happened upon the summary file that showed the final product…
"Wow," she breathed in awe.
"Keep going," Harris grinned.
Sam browsed further and found another ship class design…and another…and another…when she was finally finished she was shocked speechless. Not that it couldn't be done…it was just she was so used to the constrained confines of the SGC's budget and personnel and the need to keep things secret that it constantly clouded her thinking. But now it was a whole different story. While the secrecy element was still a factor (only less so)…with the Stargate and Asgard technology she would eventually have an entire world's resources to work with.
"These are plans for an entire Fleet…but with specialized ships each fulfilling a specific role; Fighters, Assault Shuttles, Frigate, Cruiser, Battlecruiser, Dreadnought and Carrier."
"Exactly," nodded Harris. "Section 31 believes it to be dangerous and stupid to have a space fleet with various ship-classes being able to fulfill its various mission-roles only to moderate degrees. While that's fine for the NX class as she's designed to be an Explorer and a Jack of All Trades out in the frontier, however, an explorer does not a soldier make."
"Makes sense," nodded Nancy.
"With the Enterprise out there in the unknown we will inevitably be dragged into some saber rattling or even full blown wars," Harris' tone was grim. "Those do-gooder hippies in the UE Senate can moan all they want about how we're supposed to be enlightened now that we're amongst the stars…that we're not supposed to have warships…oh, they'll be singing a different tune when the Suliban, Klingons or God knows who else storm the gates to Sol. Thank goodness our current Prime Minister has a good head on his shoulders at least."
"So you want me to begin building a Fleet here in Shipyard 20? Using the automated Asgard Constructors and raw material shipped through the Stargate?"
"No Captain," Harris shook his head. "I don't want you to build a Fleet, I want you to build Fleets…I'm here to inform you that your work on the Hyperspace Project is complete, and you are being transferred from the Warp 5 Complex to Utopia Planitia and are ordered to make use of all the resources at your disposal to give Earth a proper blade to strike at any enemy that threatens us."
"I'll need all the Shipyards activated and Stealthed for that to happen, and more people to oversee the Constructors," Sam said heavily after a moment. The task was overwhelming in scope! But the challenge of it called to her soul.
"That can easily be arranged," Harris grinned mysteriously. "When can you start?"
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Enterprise
Commander Charles 'Trip' Tucker III was a happy, content man. Enterprise' Warp 6 engine was purring like a kitten and speeding along like a greyhound, his Engineering Department was working well together as a team, and by now had quite a bit of field experience under their belts…meaning that he could loosen the reigns a bit and let them run without him constantly looking over their shoulder, and finally he was off-duty at the moment in his quarters, lost in the practice of his Harmonica, whilst staring at the blurred blue warp speed distortion outside the viewport of his quarters.
He was then rather surprised when that blue distortion vanished to be replaced by the endless starfilled expanse of normal space and the Warp Drive hum abruptly powering down.
He put his harmonica down and stared out the viewport at a very large, dirty green, cargo ship, with two massive pods that was lazily approaching.
"Archer to Commander Tucker."
Trip tapped the com button on his desk to open the channel. "Go ahead."
"I know you're off duty. But we've got visitors."
"I can see that."
"Are you up for a little repair work?"
"Sure," Trip grinned at the prospect of getting to tinker with some new form of alien hardware.
"Meet me at Docking Port two."
"On my way."
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Docking Port Two, Enterprise
Trip approached the starboard docking port after swinging around Engineering to pick up his tool belt and a suitcase of general tools that would help for most jobs. Jon and T'Pol were already there, whilst the latter was busy with the Airlock controls.
"Anything serious?" Trip asked promptly, slightly out of breath from his hurry.
"They said they were having trouble with one of their life support systems," Jon replied half-worriedly.
"Who's they?"
"Retellian cargo pilots," answered T'Pol, tapping on the controls and the hiss of the airlock equalizing pressure. "The seal is secure."
The internal pressure door opened and two large aliens entered with rugged synthetic grey clothes, boots, and their faces were mottled with a green-yellow skin and beady black eyes.
"Welcome aboard, Goff," Jon said pleasantly.
"Gracious of you to help us, Captain. We were beginning to think our distress call would never be answered." The first alien, Goff, said grimly.
"This is Sub-Commander T'Pol and my Chief Engineer, Commander Tucker."
"Our salvation," the second alien said dryly.
"The Captain said something about life support." Trip got down to business sensing the alien's clear disapproval of his partner's choice of accepting help.
"We were hired to return a young woman to her home world. A few days ago her stasis pod began to malfunction."
"Stasis? Is she injured?" Jon enquired politely.
"No, no. She's a passenger, but our ship is designed to haul cargo, not people and it's a very long journey. Putting her in suspended animation was our only choice," Goff explained.
"We have another five months ahead of us. If she wakes up there won't be enough food, air to breathe. If we're forced to abort the mission we won't get paid," the second alien continued.
"Commander Tucker is resourceful. I'm sure he'll be able to assist you," Trip felt a slight glow of satisfaction at that endorsement from T'Pol. He wasn't arrogant, but it was sure nice to be appreciated.
"Mind if I have a look?" Trip gestured towards the airlock.
"Please," the second alien led the way and Trip followed him into the cargo ship.
"So you got a name?"
"Plinn," replied the alien as he opened his own ship's inner door. Plinn led him down a few corridors, and then down a ladder into what had to be the messiest cargo hold Trip ever had the misfortune to be in. He didn't want to list the smells his nose was picking up, and containers were piled haphazardly with no order whilst netting held them down, stains of various sorts on the floor, paint chipped bulkheads and off to one side was a frost encrusted tubular stasis pod, set into a housing at a comfortable angle for its occupant.
Trip examined it carefully, and noted the non-standard components and jury rigging, whilst hovering a specialized Scanner over it. "Looks very creative."
"These relays are from an old Ardanan shuttle. They weren't designed to carry this much current," explained Plinn with a suffering nod.
"I've got some EPS conduits that might do the trick." Trip walked around to the head of the pod, where the main touchpad controls were, but it was all in an alien writing he had never seen before. "This would be a lot easier if I could read your language. If you don't mind, I'd like to ask our Communications Officer to give me a hand."
"By all means," nodded Plinn reasonably. Trip couldn't contain his curiosity though at who would want to travel in this manner and used his sleeve rub off the frost on the tube. Now exposed was a beautiful olive skinned alien face, with elegant freckles at the temples. Trip guessed she was female…he had long ago learned to be careful with some alien races with regards to gender, he wiped some more frost to check…she had the broad hips, narrow waist and two breasts that a human female would also have, and wore a rather nice soft pink dress. "Is there a problem?" Plinn interrupted his reverie.
"No. No, no problem. I'm going to need some resources from Enterprise. With a little luck, Sleeping Beauty here will never know there was a problem," Trip grinned confidently and got to work.
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A few hours of hesitant work later Trip was under the floor of the alien cargo bay to inspect the existing main power feed linkages before he would install the new EPS conduits. He looked at his scanner and found the results rather surprising…there was a little wear, but it looked remarkably new and good condition. He was also surprised how clean it was down here…he'd half expected he would need to get into an EV suit to protect him from the assorted gunk that would usually accumulate underneath a cargo bay…but he might as well have been crawling through Enterprise' crawlspaces. That's how clean it was.
It was almost as if the awfulness of the cargo bay and the alien ship was merely a façade. It might have been to deter pirates from thinking the ship a valuable thing, or if Trip wanted to be paranoid, Goff and Plinn were clearly not just simple cargo haulers.
"Commander? Hello?" Hoshi's childlike voice reached his ears, echoing in the crawlspace. He quickly emerged out of the floorplate he had disconnected. He saw her standing there crinkling her nose in distaste at the conditions around her, holding a portable UT module.
"Is that the translation?" He asked, getting out of crawlspace and taking the module from her.
"Give or take an adverb," she confirmed, as Trip browsed through the translation, matching it to the actual symbols on the stasis pod and tapping the appropriate ones to begin his diagnosis.
"Thanks," he nodded in thought.
Hoshi looked at the woman with interest. "At least you don't have to work alone."
"Hell of a way to travel, isn't it?"
"Who is she? Any idea?"
"I asked Plinn but he doesn't seem to know too much about her. He said something about studying medicine in a research colony," Trip said with frown.
"A Doctor?" Hoshi arched a brow in surprise.
"I suppose so. She must have a real passion for it if she's willing to go through all this." Trip felt his eyes zero in automatically on the alien inside. "Shame we'll never get to meet her."
"It's not polite to stare, Commander," Hoshi pointed out with a hint of teasing in her voice.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Trip frowned at her warningly.
"Let me know if you have any problems with that translation," Hoshi's mouth twitched in amusement and turned to leave.
"I wasn't staring." Trip objected flatly, and leaned down to begin connecting the first EPS feed. He was surprised to abruptly hear a repeated thumping coming from somewhere. He stood and nearly gaped in surprise to see that the alien in the pod was fully awake, her dark eyes indignant and thumping her fists against the inside of the tube to get out.
"Are you all right?" he asked in alarm.
She either didn't understand or ignored him and continued to thump with desperation. Trip rushed over to the controls and after consulting the UT, found the release sequence, quickly tapping it in. It bleeped a noise that was decidedly bad, and the UT translated 'Release Mechanism Offline.'
"Crap," he groused and rushed to his tool belt and grabbed a good old fashioned crowbar, to try breaking the thing open manually.
One try barely wedged the teeth inside the gap, another push barely cracked it open less than a centimeter. At this point Trip was surprised to feel rather large hands stop his third attempt. It was Goff.
"What are you doing?" demanded the alien.
"Help me open this thing!" snapped Trip as Goff saw the alien woman awake and insisting to get out. He ran to the controls.
"We can't bring her out of stasis," Goff insisted.
Trip pushed on the crowbar again. "Don't bother. The release is jammed."
Finally the locks of the tube snapped under the strain. Trip dropped his crowbar and grabbed a hold of one side of the tube and lifted it easily. "I'm sorry about this but the O2 recycler went offline," he told the woman.
"Dulsha Tot!" snapped the woman in anger at him.
"You're going to be all right," Trip reassured her, hoping to communicate through his tone of voice.
"Kosh Vos!"
Trip felt the sharp, painful impact on the back of his head briefly, before the world faded to black.
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Trip felt himself awake with a major headache; he sat up and held a hand to the back of his groaning. This was fortuitous as his arm absorbed the blow of his own damn crowbar, once again seeking to hit him over the head, it still hurt like a SOB. His adrenaline spiked and he rolled away in a flash to get some distance from his attacker.
It turned out to be the alien woman, whose eyes were spitting phase bolts at him, as she awkwardly held the crowbar in a threatening posture, and walking to closer to whack him with it again. Trip knew he could easily disarm her as she clearly didn't hold the crowbar properly as a weapon; she clearly had no combat training. It wasn't stopping her though.
"Tuvat at," she snapped, as Trip evaded back.
"What the hell did you do that for?" Trip retorted back.
"Tuvat at."
"Hold on. Hold on. I'm not working with them."
"Luvasta eeva. Destas," she spoke with narrowed eyes.
"Calm down. I'm not going to hurt you. I'm, I'm from a starship called Enterprise." He retreated again from her advance and showed her the ship patch on the left arm of his uniform. "Enterprise. Now put that thing down and I'll untie you. Your hands, I'll free your hands." He gestured to her wrists. "Let me help you."
"Has trava dukla." Her tone was clearly suspicious and she wasn't buying it.
The door to cargo bay slammed and Goss was there, this time holding an energy pistol and aiming it threateningly. Trip interposed himself between the gun and the alien woman. "What the hell is going on?!"
"Is it repaired?" Goss asked with menace.
"Where is Captain Archer?" Trip retorted, no way he was helping this asshole pirate anymore.
"Your ship is a long way from here," he smirked.
"Slovasa toraya," the woman looked between Trip and Goss. Hopefully she's got the idea now.
"Repair the pod so we can put her back in stasis."
"It's going to take a few hours," Trip temporized.
"Work quickly." Goss backed up and left the cargo hold, locking the door.
Trip sighed wearily and took a cutting tool to snip the woman's binds. "Am sotey."
"You're welcome?" Trip looked around for his UT, it was time to get rid of this language barrier, but to his frustration couldn't find the damn thing.
"Tule bas?"
Trip rushed around looking on the floor. "Have you seen a little device? It's about this big, has a keypad on it. It's my Universal Translator. It'll help us understand each other."
"Has nos?" Trip looked back to see the woman had found it at the base of the stasis pod.
"That's it. It's just so we can talk." He gestured to the UT module, then to his mouth, and mimed a moving mouth with his fingers. She seemed to understand that and handed it over. He activated its language capture functions and translation matrices. "I need you to say something. You got to keep talking." He pointed at her and mimed talking with his hand again.
"Votni vay, atayun ponas."
"A little more," he encouraged, giving a rolling gesture.
"Akasa jorat. Foraya nuratay. fegasa ana a'hanjura."
Trip locked that in and enabled the active vocal cancellation/substitution subroutines. "Can you understand me?"
"Serotta jho."
"Where's Hoshi when you need her?" Trip griped to no one.
"Who is Hoshi?" the woman demanded.
"Ah, that's better. Would you mind telling me what's going on here?" Trip asked insistently.
"How long have I been in stasis?"
"You'd have to ask them." Trip pocketed the UT, and pulled out his Communicator from his arm pocket, just in case Goff had been exaggerating. "Commander Tucker to Enterprise. Enterprise, do you hear me?" Nothing.
"You are an officer?" she enquired with a considering air.
"Chief Engineer. Feels like we've gone to Warp," Trip muttered, hearing the somewhat familiar yet alien hum of a foreign warp drive.
"Explain yourself. What do you know about my abductors?" Her manner was rather pompous, full of self-entitlement.
"We thought they were cargo pilots. They claimed you were their passenger."
"I am their prisoner. I was returning from a diplomatic mission when they attacked my transport, murdered my guards. You don't know who I am, do you?"
"Should I?" Trip shrugged, tucking his communicator back into his jumpsuit.
"My family is known on hundreds of worlds."
"Well, I'm afraid my homeworld isn't one of them. So I take it you're not a doctor," Trip said dryly.
"I am First Monarch of the Sovereign Dynasty of Krios Prime."
"Oh. Charles Tucker the Third. Please to meet you. So what do these guys want?" Great, royalty, just what I need, Trip thought.
"Ransom. No doubt they'll demand a high price for my safe return," the Monarch said with confidence, as if it was a badge of honor.
"Listen, my Captain'll be looking for me. All we have to do is get off this ship and let him know where we are."
"And how do you propose we do that?"
"This ship has a shuttlebay and I saw there were a couple of escape pod tubes on the outer hull near it."
"You're not going anywhere," she declared haughtily.
"I beg your pardon?" Trip said incredulously.
"We'll remain here until they contact the Sovereign Guard. Once the ransom has been paid, we'll be released."
"Well, if it's all the same to you I'd rather take my chances in open space," Trip shook his head at her naivety. Sure, she had that guarantee, but he didn't.
"It's too dangerous. If you leave, it would provoke them," the Monarch protested.
Trip ignored her and walked over to a hatch near one of the bulkheads, crouching next to it. "If I remember right this access tube leads to a junction near the shuttlebay."
"You are not to leave this chamber," she ordered.
"With all due respect I am not one of your subjects."
Of course, it wasn't as simple as just opening that hatch. Goss had sealed the bay completely, and there were sensors on it to detect if it was open or not. Luckily, he had all his tools with him and after a quick scan found a system maintenance port on the other end of the cargo bay. With a bit of more brute force from his crowbar, he opened it and examined the various circuitries inside.
"Could you hand me that circuit probe? The one with the green handle?" Trip asked, getting no response, he saw she was pacing insistently and ignoring him. He sighed and got the thing from the toolbox himself. "You must be one hell of a diplomat," he snarked.
"Is your entire species so ill-mannered?" she retorted.
"No, just me," he poked the probe in and began identifying which circuit led to which system.
"You know, if you were thinking rationally you'd be repairing that stasis pod. He did threaten to kill you."
"That's precisely why I'm getting out of here. I really doubt they're going to keep me around once I fix their problem. You know, I realize someone in your position isn't used to taking advice from a guy like me, but I strongly suggest you come along."
"He'd never harm me. I'm too valuable to them," she disagreed.
"I've been involved in a few hostage situations. They rarely turn out the way you expect."
"You're correct, Mister Tucker. I don't take advice from people like you."
"You know, that stasis pod won't fix itself. Chances are you're going to spend the next five months tied up in this grimy little cargo hold. Not exactly my idea of a royal voyage."
"I'll be fine."
"When I get back to Enterprise I'll make sure we get a message to your homeworld. Krios?"
"Krios Prime. Once you launch an escape pod what makes you think they won't destroy it?"
"I'm going to reroute their internal sensors. I'll be a million kilometres away before they know I'm gone. I'm much better company."
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The crawlspaces of the pirate cargo ship were narrow square affairs, and thankfully lit rather brightly. Trip led the way, pushing his toolbox along with his toolbelt securely fastened around his waist. Luckily the belt was one of the new models which sealed the tools automatically after replacing them, so they didn't fall out if he was in a crawlspace like this. The Monarch moved along awkwardly behind him, her elegant dress obstructing the freedom of her legs, but she bore it with stubbornness.
"How much farther?" she complained.
"Just a few more meters."
"Are you sure this is the right direction?"
"Keep your voice down. What am I supposed to call you, anyway? First Monarch? Your Highness?"
"Kaitaama."
"What is that? Some kind of a title?"
"It's my name." Trip nodded, then stopped and popped open a panel. He pulled out a probe and a dynamic sequencer and got to work on the systems inside. "What are you doing?"
"These lead to internal sensors." Trip grinned when the lights on the circuits died. He replaced his tools and moved further and removed a grid from the left of the crawlspace. He nimbly jumped down into the sealed shuttlebay, reached up to grab his toolbox, before helping Kaitaama out of it as well.
He walked across to the far bulkhead where four small circular doors were set into the wall. He tapped on one of the neighboring control panels next to one and was rewarded when the door irised open and revealed the cramped confines of an escape pod.
"This is meant for one person."
"We'll have to make due. Unless you know how to fly one of these things," Trip rejoined sarcastically.
She tried to get in, but this time her long dress hampered her movements fully. She scoffed in frustration and reluctantly ripped it up to her mid-thigh, exposing a rather well toned, olive skinned leg that glistened in the lights. Trip averted staring at that beautiful long leg, he rather felt it was a sin covering something like that. After she got in, Trip undid his toolbelt, dumped it in the box, pushed it in as well, and easily squeezed into the narrow confines himself.
He pushed a manual control button above his head that sealed the pod and its tube. He pulled his UT module and scanned for the launch control. In retrospect it was easy; the pod had a touchpad control panel that stretched the length of it, with display screen above it. It was a big round green button near the hatch. He slapped it.
The pod was abruptly accelerated down its tube with what felt like a combination of gravlev and explosives. The acceleration briefly overwhelmed the small inertial dampeners and squished Kaitaama against the toolbox, which both squeezed against Trip. Finally they were out of the tube.
Then the ride got really bumpy.
"What was that?" Kaitaama gasped.
Trip tapped on furiously on the pod's controls, whilst staring at the UT. "We're crossing the subspace threshold." Abruptly the rumbling stopped. "That wasn't so bad."
"What do you propose we do next?"
"To be honest, I hadn't really thought about it," Trip admitted.
"I assumed you had a plan."
"I was only joking. They do have a sense of humor where you come from?" he asked with vague disbelief.
"Among the commoners," she declared, but then gave a half-smile. "Only joking."
"It's only a matter of time before they realise we're gone. No doubt they'll come about and look for us. We need a place to hide," Trip accessed the pod sensors and stared at the results.
"Where?"
"If I'm translating this right, there's a system about ninety million kilometres from here. We should be able to reach it in a day or so."
"What makes you think any of those planets are habitable?" she pointed to the display. The range of the sensors was rather laughable; they were barely able to detect the planets in the first place.
"Only one way to find out. Permission to set a course, your Sovereignty?"
"Proceed," Kaitaama gave a trouble sigh.
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Six hours into their journey and there was no sign that Goss had found them. Trip had used most of that time to begin familiarizing himself with the pod controls, learning what does what. It wasn't easy in the close confines. Every time he tried to change position, Kaitaama would also shift, further obstructing his efforts.
"Look, this would be a whole lot easier if you'd stop moving around."
"You're touching me," she practically whined.
"I'm afraid I don't have much choice."
"It's inappropriate to touch the First Monarch," now her mercurial moods turned to anger and she glared at him again, her long dark hair had escaped her braid, which made her look even fiercer.
"You're welcome to step outside until I'm done. Excuse me." He reached to a panel above her head and tapped on its controls. "There we go. Landing thrusters, No, wait, they're stabilizers."
"You have no idea how to control this vehicle," she declared.
"I'm working on it," Trip said, forcing down his own anger.
"Even if we do find a breathable atmosphere and you manage to land without killing us, what will we do about food? Water? There could be hostile life-forms on the surface. How will we protect ourselves?"
"I have a plasma torch in my toolkit; it'll do in a pinch. Now listen, I've got less than twenty four hours to figure out how to scan a star system and program a descent sequence in a language I don't understand, and I'm not going to get it done with you interrupting me every five seconds. So I'd appreciate it if you'd keep quiet until I'm finished! Now, lift your butt."
"My what?" she asked in bafflement, the UT had obviously got confused with the slang word.
"Your behind, your rear end," Trip rolled his eyes. "I haven't checked that panel yet." He reached over her, as she lifted her…rather shapely derriere, he had to forcibly ignore the view and lifted the seat to expose a thin joystick like control.
"Quickly," she moaned awkwardly.
"You know, you were a lot more pleasant in stasis," Trip snapped, and adjusted the control. "Ah, I think I found the landing thrusters." He sat back into his side of the pod, and sighed angry with himself. "I understand how difficult this must be for someone of your upbringing, but we could be stuck out here for awhile. We should find a way to get along. I'm willing to give it a try if you are."
Kaitaama went from indignant to thoughtful, but then said, "My hand." Trip gave her a puzzled stare. "You're sitting on my hand." Trip lifted himself and allowed her to pull it away. "I'll try," she conceded softly.
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Trip had enjoyed a few hours of peace from Kaitaama's complaints after that, but then…
"Are there any provisions? I'm hungry."
"You might check that storage compartment above your head."
"You do it."
And just like that Trip's felt his anger and exasperation soar again. "I'm busy," he said shortly and continued programming their course into the computer. Kaitaama sulked visibly for a moment before doing it herself. "If you find any water up there, I could use some." A water sachet fell after she opened the hatch and it landed in his lap. "Thanks." He took a brief sip from the tube straw and made a satisfied noise at the moisture in his mouth. For her part she struggled to open a plastic container that held what looked like thick cookies inside. "Allow me." They swapped and Trip after a bit of a grunt opened the container. Kaitaama looked at the water tube suspiciously. "I'm not contagious."
Trip sniffed at a biscuit.
"Is it edible?" she asked after taking a reluctant sip.
"Depends how hungry you are," Trip said blandly after taking a bite and grimacing. She took another and nibbled very gently on it. "It reminds me of my first car."
"Car?"
"A four-wheeled vehicle. Wasn't much bigger than this. All we're missing is the ocean breeze coming off the Gulf. I used to drive out to a place called Chatkin Point, park along the shoreline and stare at the moon with my girlfriend." He saw her wary glance. "Don't worry. I won't make a pass at you."
"The Sovereign Guard would cut off one of your hands," she said forbiddingly, and even with a hint of relish.
"You must be a fun date," Trip said dryly.
"The First Monarch doesn't socialise with the opposite sex," Kaitaama explained.
"You've never been on a date?" he asked incredulously.
"Four years ago, before I was selected to ascend to First Monarch, I was courted by young men from many noble families. Now I spend my personal time in the company of my father's advisors."
"Sounds kind of lonely," Trip sighed, finishing his biscuit.
"You haven't finished your work."
"No, I haven't," he smiled and began further programming.
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They both took the opportunity to get some sleep in turns, over the next twenty hours. Finally, they reached orbit of the planet within the system's liquid water zone, and was able to scan the planet itself with the pod's underpowered sensors.
The display showed a pure blue planet and…
"It's all water," Kaitaama said with worry.
"There's a chain of islands near the equator," Trip pointed out, zooming in with the display.
"Will we be able to breathe?"
Trip tapped the controls and declared with relief, "Oxygen, nitrogen, a trace of methane. Nothing we can't handle."
"Do you detect any lifeforms?"
"If I could figure out how to use the bio-sensors."
"Are you certain we have the correct planet?"
"It's the only one in the liquid water zone with an atmosphere."
"You may begin our descent," she sighed worriedly and sat back.
"Let's hope I get this right." Trip mumbled and began the descent by locking in the islands as a target and engaging his program. The computer waited until they finished another orbit before it suddenly fired maneuvering thrusters that tipped the pod so that its main thrusters aimed against their orbit. Barely a second later those same thrusters fired at full blast.
The pod gracefully began its controlled tumble to the planet below. The moment they struck the thermosphere, the air friction against their extreme velocity began to heat up the hull. Trip felt like he was in a blender with amount of uncompensated inertia that was getting past the pod's dampeners. The pod oriented with thrusters towards the planet and now began firing to slow their descent.
The computer gave a warning bleep ten seconds later.
"The port stabiliser's down," Trip said grimly his hands tapping on the controls to trim their descent trajectory.
"Can you repair it?" gasped Kaitaama.
"No, but the starboard one should keep us on course."
The ride got even rougher as air currents in upper atmosphere started buffeting them.
"Mister Tucker!" she cried in fear.
"So far so good. Eight thousand meters. I think they're meters. Seven thousand. I'm pretty sure the braking thrusters are firing. Five thousand metres. You might want to grab hold of something." She complied by grabbing him, putting her arms around him. "Two thousand metres. One thousand. Hold on."
The world suddenly felt like it was turned upside down and Trip felt a hard pain against his back as the pod landed with more vertical velocity than was entirely comfortable. He ignored it and strained to get back to his seat. A glance at the pod's displays showed that it was vertical against the ground. He grabbed a hold of his toolbox, before discharging the pod's gravity plating.
For the first time he felt the native gravity…
"Hmmm, probably .9 or .8 G," he muttered. He climbed past Kaitaama up to the egress hatch, and opened it, getting onto the exterior of pod. He reached in and helped his fellow escapee up as well. They had landed in lush, water logged swamp, with rising steam from the water and animal noises echoing around them. Add to this the fact that it was early evening and rather dark, except for the reflective light from three moons, it made for a decidedly eerie scene.
Fifteen minutes of preparation and unloading later, they were wading through the knee high water towards the nearby dry ground with any supplies they had in tow.
"This heat is unbearable," she complained.
"It's nothing compared to a summer in the Everglades. At least there aren't any mosquitoes," Trip said thankfully.
"Where are we going?"
"Over there," he pointed to an area underneath a few alien trees that looked like it would provide good shade in the day, with higher and dry land. "Looks like a good place to set up camp."
"Your vessel will never find us here," she declared darkly.
"Don't underestimate Captain Archer."
They sat down with a huff of relief underneath the trees after putting their meager supplies down. Kaitaama immediately took off her water logged shoes and put them on a nearby rock to dry. She looked down and saw his back.
"You're bleeding."
"It's just a scratch," disagreed Trip.
"We have no idea what microbes live in this environment. It could become infected," she declared with a surprising tone of worry,
"I said later."
"You're my only hope of surviving here, Mister Tucker. I don't intend to let you die."
Trip sighed in resignation and stood, unzipping and pulling off the top of his jumpsuit with a wince, and then removing the blue undershirt. Kaitaama was looking at the pod's small first aid kit with no clue what did what. He tied the jumpsuit around his waist so it's top didn't get in the way before looking at each tube and smelling the contents. Finally he found one that had that tang of antiseptic alcohol, the UT also confirmed it. "This one," he handed her the right tube and sat down.
She kneeled behind him and began to smear a generous portion of the ointment on his back wound. The pain made him twitch. "Hold still," she commanded. "The provisions won't last for more than a day."
He bore the burning pain and said, "It sounds like there's plenty of wildlife. I grew up in a place kind of like this. I don't think we're going to starve. And I can use the thruster assembly from the pod to start a fire, boil some water." He felt her elegant hands linger for a moment on his back. "Thanks."
"You're welcome," she said softly.
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With the oppressive heat, it was very tempting to just lie down and nap, but Trip knew they had to get on with the work of survival. He sent a reluctant Kaitaama to find dry wood, whilst he disassembled one of the thrusters. He decided to stay bareback due to the heat, and hauling the heavy thruster to dry land was a cast iron SOB. He was done with that and busy with jury rigging the thing to only provide a low flame instead of thousands of pounds of thrust, when Kaitaama returned.
Her face was a personification of petulance and frustration as she chucked a few measly twigs between the stones where the fire would be.
"That's the best you could do?" Trip was incredulous.
"There's very little dry wood."
"Keep looking," Trip all but commanded. She didn't respond and simply sat down on the rock her shoes were drying on. "What are you waiting for?"
"I'm not your servant. You're the one who was raised in a primitive environment. You find the wood," she folded her arms stubbornly.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Trip snapped in anger.
"You're obviously better suited to physical labor," her eyes raking up Trip's decently muscled form.
"In case you haven't noticed, we're not in a palace. You said it yourself. You won't survive without my help, so it seems to me that I'm the one in charge. The king of the swamp!" He gestured with his macrocaliper expansively around him. "Now get your ass out there and don't come back without an armful of dry wood!"
"I should have you imprisoned for speaking to me that way," she retorted.
"You should give me a medal. You'd be dead if it weren't for me!"
"I'm beginning to think that would be preferable."
"I doubt the commoners back home would complain," he smirked back. She stood suddenly with that fury in her eyes again and stepped right into Trip's personal space. She reared back with her right arm intending to slap him, but he easily caught the attack. She suddenly flung her whole weight against him unexpectedly, and they both tumbled to the ground, rolling down the gentle slope and directly into the water.
"How dare you!" she screamed.
Trip spluttered, easily shrugged her off and got out of the water. "You're the one who took a swing at me."
She too got up, her dress now sopping wet and clinging to her form. If Trip hadn't been so angry he would've been thoroughly distracted with such a beautiful sight. "You insulted the First Monarch!"
"I'm just a petty commoner, remember?! Raised on a primitive…"
Trip couldn't finish the sentence, since he was unexpectedly interrupted by the First Monach flinging her arms around his neck and kissing him rather thoroughly. She abruptly broke it and backed off, breathing heavily her eyes smoldering at him. He felt caught like a fly in a web in that look, and walked forward to this time capture her between his arms and delve in for a searing kiss.
He didn't know how long that lasted, but suddenly she pushed off him and grabbed him by the hand, pulling him back to dry land. When they were back under the tree, their lips met again and her tongue boldly asked entrance, which he automatically allowed. Her hands roamed on his abdomen, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.
Finally, she broke the kiss again, but pushed him down onto the dry ground, and began to clumsily pull off his boots, socks, then almost delicately untying his jumpsuit and pulled it off his legs. Now only in his boxer underwear, she leaned over him and kissed him again, but hesitantly moved away to grace her lips over his chest and then abdominals. Her right hand hovered at the strap of his boxers and her eyes sought his…
…he nodded. Just like that it was pulled off leaving him naked on his back. Her eyes looked fascinated for a moment and then another smoldering smile appeared on her face. She was breathing heavily now as well, and with nervous jerking movements straddled his waist. She began to pull up her dress, but Trip had managed to get some function back into his brain and halted her.
"You sure?"
She nodded and pulled in a smooth movement. He gasped as she too was unexpectedly naked…guess she didn't wear underwear or her dress has support features included in it, but soon he was lost as the beauty of her nude form slammed into his brain. Her olive skin glistened in the moonlight, catching on her breasts invitingly. A part of his brain noted that her freckles reoccurred in a rather enticing pattern all over her. She was also clearly in shape, despite her 'Royal lifestyle'.
She leaned down, shrouding his world with a curtain of her hair, the feeling of skin on skin contact, the feeling of her breasts compressing against his chest…and then her kiss came again. The combination of sensations had him more than ready for her. Her hand reached back to grasp him and she sat up again. He had to seriously concentrate on his brinkmanship not to climax just from the sensation of her delicate hands on him, manipulating him, positioning as she guided herself to be impaled.
His eyes were locked on her as she busied herself with the task.
Then he felt wet heat surround his tip, and he groaned with the effort to prevent release and the pleasure of it. She slowly settled forward on her knees, her eyes closed and moaning herself at the sensation of him sliding fully into her.
For a moment, she simply sat there, having to support herself by leaning with her hands on his chest, while his hands caressed up and down her arms and flanks.
"You okay?" he managed to ask through his own heavy breathing.
"The sensation is different; I am reminded that you are actually an alien," she gasped as he thrusted upwards a little. "Al- Although it's very pleasurable nevertheless."
"And here I thought you were…inexperienced," Trip grinned and thrust again, this time she countered by flexing her own inner vaginal muscles in a way that was decidedly not human. He groaned and had to seriously focus on not exploding underneath her right there. When he had mastered himself to be coherent she was grinning wickedly down at him.
"While I may be part of the royal family and was rigidly guarded, I did have a few secret teenage romances, Mister Tucker." She shifted herself up and down his length once and practically hissed with pleasure. Trip busied himself with testing a theory and started caressing her patterned freckles, first on either side of hips, then that lovely pattern that led to her groin, the ones in the valley and sides of her breasts. "Ah! By the Shesnan How…?!" She lost her own capacity for speech at his actions, and he grinned in satisfaction, but after half a minute of this she went wild.
She pushed away his arms and began shifting herself up and down on him with a powerful urgent energy. Her hisses and cries of pleasure, accompanied by his groans echoed into the night. Trip didn't know how long it took them but soon he didn't have the strength anymore to hold back, he managed to give her a warning. To which she simply shook her head and continued…
He gasped as he journeyed to the clouds of ecstasy, Kaitaama managed to follow a few moments afterwards.
This was not the last such journey they managed that night, but soon enough they were both completely spent. However, much he wished he could simply curl up and sleep, they had to get a fire going. They nibbled on their meal biscuits and dressed back into their now dry clothes, before curling up together next to the small fire.
"Mister Tucker?"
"Call me Trip…" he murmured sleepily.
"Trip, how did you know about a Kriosian female's pleasure marks?"
"Educated guess, evolution had to put them there for a reason…"
"Oh. Good night."
"Night…"
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Trip woke first the next morning, gently extricating himself from Kaitaama to begin boiling some water. He had no illusions that their night truly meant anything. It was just a fling from someone who was trapped way out of her element and who would probably soon never be able to do anything on impulse for the rest of her life. Heck, it had also been done on impulse on his own part, but there was no way he could experience that level of closeness with someone and not develop at least some feeling for her.
Then there was also the ever present possibility that Enterprise would be unable to locate them in a reasonable time-frame. He didn't want to think about that. Starfleet had a rule – if personnel are missing for more than four weeks from their assigned vessel – they are declared MIA and their starship is to cease actively looking for them and return to primary mission. Trip didn't want to entertain the chance that he and Kaitaama would have to live out the rest of their lives on this planet. Yet, he had to prepare for the possibility and having good relations with his only company was essential to that.
His musings was interrupted with the boiling of the water, but just as he pulled off the metallic cup another sound reached his ears…a distinctly artificial beeping…coming from the escape pod!
He sprang into action, rushing into the water and towards the pod.
"What's wrong?" Kaitaama asked, also awakened by the beeping. Trip reached the pod, and spotted a panel behind which a blue light was flashing and the source of the beep. He ripped it open, gave one look and wanted to kick himself for forgetting.
"A homing beacon. Unless I'm way off someone just locked on to it." Trip grabbed a nearby rock and smashed it into the exposed circuitry…it cracked and shattered in a satisfying manner before going dead.
"Your vessel?" she asked hopefully.
"No way to tell, but I think we have to prepare for some bad company, just in case."
It was once again evening until any movement was spotted by the two castaways. Trip hoped his plan would work. He had jury rigged his scanner and communicator to emit a general jamming signal which should disrupt any handheld scans from pinpointing their lifesigns. Of course, it also confirmed to the pirate their location, but only in a general area of two hundred meters, and there was a lot of vegetation to hide within that area. He also (although it rankled his Southern gentlemanly instincts) planned to use Kaitaama as bait, but Goss wanted to kill him, not her.
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The pirate approached cautiously in a crouch, his pistol up and aiming at the blue jumpsuited figure. He made doubly sure of his aim, because his very valuable hostage was right next to that meddling Engineer. He fired.
A searing green particle beam drew a line and hit the figure. The Monarch gasped and whirled looking at him with fear and swiftly ran away.
Goss rushed forward to confirm the kill, only to be astonished when he saw it was actually a uniform stood up with crude stilts made of sticks and some form of indigenous fruit mounted on top as a head. He had been unable to see this in the darkness of the evening.
He cursed and whirled around to track the direction the Monarch had gone in. Surely she would head towards the engineer as well, being clearly frightened.
Goss was abruptly flattened into the water with the heavy impact of Trip's full body weight landing atop him. His particle pistol flew out of his hands as the pirate tried to absorb the fall instinctively.
Trip logrolled the pirate over and shoved the tip of his plasma welder under Goss neck.
"You better calm down, if you don't I might trigger the plume of this welder under your chin…so unless you want your brains fried by plasma…"
Goss sneered but the fight went visibly out of his dark eyes and he stopped struggling.
Kaitaama rushed over produced a pair of cable ties from his toolkit, which allowed Trip to secure the pirate's arms. Trip hauled the pirate over to dry ground with effort and dumped him face first when he heard more movement in the brush. He whirled towards it, aiming his welder…it wouldn't be much use beyond five meters, but it was something at least.
"Trip?" The familiar voice of his Captain and best friend made the tension in him disappear, like mist before the sun. Jon emerged from the brush, phase pistol and scanner in hand looking at his friend with bemusement at his state of dress. T'Pol and Malcolm was behind him, the latter with a broad knowing grin on his face. "This a bad time."
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Captain's Star log, September 12th, 2152. We've rendezvoused with a Krios battle cruiser, which has taken the kidnappers into custody.
Trip, freshly showered and in a fresh uniform, walked with Kaitaama along the corridor towards the Port docking collar of Enterprise. She was also as fresh as daisies, but her dress had been a lost cause in terms of repair. So she had been issued a generic blue Starfleet jumpsuit by the Quartermaster, it was slightly too big, but her beauty made it look good. It had been rather easy to find the Krios Battlecruiser, it had been in the sector searching for Kaitaama anyway. She had been able to raise them on subspace and they had been able to arrange for a rendezvous.
Trip wished he could have a poke around that Battlecruiser; it was only a hundred and sixty meters long, but it looked like it was highly maneuverable and had a decent punch in its particle cannons. He imagined a squadron of them operating in concert was nothing to sneeze at.
"So, when do you ascend?" he asked.
"Two hundred and forty six days."
"It's a long shot, but maybe Enterprise will get the chance to visit Krios Prime before then. Of course, from what you've told me I doubt your family would let me see you."
"I doubt they would, but once I've been made First Monarch I'll have the authority to change the rules."
"What kind of changes?" Trip asked despite himself.
Kaitaama stopped and leaned very close, her eyes sending that same smoldering look into his…
"Come visit me. Perhaps you'll find out."
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A/N: Credit for the CHS comes from Mass Effect, and its appearance is similar. Hope you enjoyed.