Thanks, as always, to campy for his beta and proof work.
Leave a revew, get a response. Seriously.
If you saw it on KP, it belongs to Disney; if you saw it on TNG, it belongs to Paramount.
I.
"… On our left flank, we have the Third Fleet, comprised of Task Force Seven under Halsey, Task Force Eight under Shren, and Task Force Nine, which is commanded by …"
Steve Barkin leaned against the railing as he took in the impressive, if sobering, spectacle before him: a huge, three-dimensional projection of the assets deploying to the Romulan Neutral Zone. To one side of the border, which shimmered like the Aurora Borealis, were the ships of the Federation, to the other were those of the Romulan Star Empire.
Barkin recalled the last time the two peoples had gone to war – the conflict had been long and bloody and fought with far less advanced, and thus destructive, technology. When the Chief of Starfleet Operations had asked him to name the operation, the Federation President had been tempted to call it Armageddon or Apocalypse; he had no illusions that a war between two of the Alpha Quadrant's most powerful militaries would end in anything short of wanton destruction and scores of billions dead. Yet he weighed that against the unacceptable possibility of the Romulans possessing the Pan-Dimensional Vortex Inducer.
"Who's in command of Galaxy?" he asked, peering towards a starship in the middle of a squadron on the left flank of the Fleet.
"Commodore Saavik, Mr. President," the CSO answered, "is in command of Galaxy and Gamma Alpha Squadron."
Barkin allowed himself a grin. "She served with Kirk and Spock on the old Enterprise, didn't she?" the President asked, knowing the answer to his own question. The Vulcan was already one of Starfleet's most celebrated officers long before Steve Barkin enrolled at the Academy, indeed even before he was born.
"Yes, sir," the CSO replied, remembering from briefings that Barkin harbored a fondness for the hard-charging ways of the Federation's early starship captains.
Barkin grunted with satisfaction. Galaxy's Vulcan commander would not only be cool and collected; she'd also have learned that fortune came to the bold. He couldn't think of a better officer to be anchoring the left wing of the Federation's defense should all hell break loose. He respected the woman; she could have donned an admiral's uniform decades ago; but consistently refused promotion, preferring to remain in command of a star-ship. She was like so many of Kirk's crew who had insisted on remaining in space, rather than sit behind desks at Starbases or at headquarters in San Francisco.
The Federation President turned and faced the delegation of beribboned officers standing before him. "Okay, people, listen up. If anything so much as moves out there, even a piece of space junk, I want to know. Do I make myself clear?"
The CSO returned the President's gaze. "Yes, sir. We'll of course keep you posted of any and all changes in the Romulans' posture."
Barkin leaned into the admiral, his nose just centimeters from the officer's. "I don't think I made myself clear, mister," the crew-cut-sporting one-time teacher and junior officer growled. "I wasn't speaking metaphorically. If anything so much as moves, floats, rotates, materializes or dematerializes you will inform me immediately."
The admiral nodded, trying not to show that he felt like a truant student being berated by a schoolteacher. "Yes, sir. Understood."
"Good. Now stop standing around and get to work, people!" Barkin ordered before leav-ing the Stellar Situation Room, confirmed in his decision to keep a close eye on his Starfleet brass hats. Not much had changed, he thought, since he was a young louie in the field. The people on the line made the sacrifices while their superiors, comfortable back at HQ, thought in abstractions and spoke in platitudes. This time, he vowed, things would be different. While Steve Barkin was prepared to wage war ruthlessly and totally if such a decision was called for, he was also determined that not a single life would be needlessly lost on either side of the border.
II.
Kim barely dodged Shego's assault, weaving to evade the two quick punches, and doing a back flip to avoid the raven-haired woman's kick. Kim was impressed by her adversary's skill and speed. She prepared herself for what she knew would come next.
Shego didn't disappoint as she held up two glow-enveloped gloves.
Kim remembered all too well what had happened when Ron had taken an energy hit di-rectly to the chest; she knew she couldn't afford to be knocked out, and so scrambled to dodge the rapid-fire blasts from her opponent. Kim ducked around the corner of a cage, but jumped when she heard one of the captives howl – Shego had no qualms about strik-ing the would-be chattel as she pressed her attack on Kim.
As Kim retreated, concerned that she was being driven further away from Ron, Worf, and Rufus, she surveyed her surroundings. She had served in space long enough to instinctively think in three dimensions. She saw that the pens were arranged in such a way as to create an orderly grid pattern on the floor. She also noticed that the cages had both horizontal and vertical bars on the sides – and on their tops. Kim, once again being approached by Shego, grabbed onto one of the cross bars of the pen by her side with one hand, then the other. Shego saw what she was doing and hurled a blast of energy at her – and barely missed.
The villainess had expected Kim to begin climbing; instead, the former Starfleet officer had flipped herself up and onto the top of the pen. Shego snarled as Kim, now in a fight-ing position, stared down at her triumphantly.
"You can run, but you can't hide, Princess," she snarled.
"Oh, I don't plan to hide, Shego. I plan to take you down," Kim said with animus as she stunned her opponent by launching herself off of the pen and straight at her. "Nobody tries to buy my husband!"
Kim came down, driving the heel of her boot into Shego's solar plexus. Shego stumbled backwards, but was quick enough to grab onto Kim's leg as she went down, bringing Kim down to the floor with her.
As Shego and Kim began grappling, the captives in the cage began jeering and hectoring the two women. As far as the prisoners were concerned, they were both slave-buyers. None of the prisoners had seen how Kim had treated Ron; all they knew was that the two women were on the outside, which meant they were on the side of the Orionisi. Kim and Shego were rolling down the aisle when Kim's ponytail swung towards the lip of one of the cages. She screamed when a beady-eyed Tellarite grabbed it and pulled.
"Hey!" Kim cried out.
Shego grinned. "Maybe once we're ready to sell you, I can put you in there with your new friend."
"So. Not. Going. To. Happen," Kim grunted as she contended with Shego, who was rais-ing a glowing glove ready to slash at her face while the Tellarite who had grabbed her hair was now yanking her head up against the bars. Kim knew she was in a tight sitch. She was about to raise her leg up to drive it into Shego's body when she felt someone, clearly on the other side of the aisle, grab her ankles.
"Looks like play time's over, Princess!" Shego said with a wicked gleam in her basalt-black eyes as she brought down her energy-enshrouded fist.
III.
As Ron looked around, his anxiety began to mount. Much to his dismay, he couldn't see Kim. What he could see were Worf and Rufus preparing to fight off the new Orionisi arrivals that were making their way into the slave market. If something didn't change soon, Ron knew, they'd all be wearing pain inducers and be destined for the auction block.
He looked at the impressive lock on the nearest pen, then he looked at the Sword of Kahless. He shrugged his shoulders, then raised the blade over his head. Goggle-eyed, slack-jawed aliens jumped back and watched with amazement as the weapon sliced through the duranium alloy from which their prison bars were forged.
"Ah-booyah!" Ron exulted as the locking mechanism sealing the pen was destroyed and the door swung open.
He was surprised when none of the captives approached the door.
"What are you waiting for?" he demanded.
"They have pain inducers," a timid Bolian said, pointing in the direction of the Orionisi.
"Yeah, but we've got numbers. We can overwhelm them," Ron explained. "C'mon!"
"I'm not sure about this," a diffident Betazoid said as he looked dubiously at Ron.
Ron sighed. "Look, dude. Forget the fact that I've got one eye and no pants and I'm wearing my lunch. I've got a magic sword, okay?"
The prisoners still stood in the cage. Ron sighed, shook his head and ran off to another pen and cut open its lock. This time the captives, a collection of Andorians, Vulcans, and Tellarites were more confident, quickly rushing out into the aisle and following Ron as he made his way to another pen. The prisoners from the first lock-up realized that Ron was right and decided to join the growing exodus.
The number of freed would-be slaves quickly grew. Members of dozens of species were coursing through the aisles, following Ron. Then one of the group fell, writhing in agony; one of the slavers had begun activating an inducer. Some of the escapees began to waver and tentatively headed back to the pens, despite Ron's frantic appeals for them not to; Rufus, seeing what was happening, launched himself at the inducer-wielding slaver, his mouth open and his buck-tooth bared. The man howled as the naked mole rat slammed into him and bit down on the arm of the hand that had wielded the device. Worf, seeing the inducer fall, lunged and beat another of the Orionisi to the unit, which he smashed into the ground. Ron, relieved and grateful, waved and led his charges to another pen.
That was when he saw Kim, her ankles seized by one captive alien, her hair by another and a green-hued, black-haired woman atop her.
"Shego!" he hissed.
Shego, distracted by Ron's voice, looked up, surprised to see him and so many freed cap-tives. Her eyes opened wide – and her grip on Kim loosened, just enough to let Kim wrest her right hand free. Kim balled her hand into a fist and drove it into the side of Shego's head, disorienting the villainess, and giving Kim the opportunity to free her other hand. Kim quickly grabbed the side of Shego's head and slammed her forehead into her opponent's nose. As Shego reared up, howling in pain and anger, she instinctively reached her hands up to protect herself. Unfortunately for Shego, sitting up brought her closer to the pen behind her; another one of its captives reached out and grabbed her long mane of hair, yanking her backwards and off Kim.
Kim, though freed of Shego, was still struggling with the ill-tempered aliens who held her ankles and her hair as Ron approached.
"KP, let go of the guy behind you!" he ordered as he ran up to her.
Kim, suspecting what Ron was about to do, grimaced, but did as she was told. Seconds later the bat'leth came down, slicing off Kim's long ponytail. Her hands and head free, she sat up and lost no time in prying the other alien's hands off her ankles.
Shego, meanwhile, was screaming blue murder as a number of the almost-slaves accompanying Ron, seeing Kim was with him, grabbed Shego, wrestled her to the ground and pinioned her arms behind her back.
Kim, finally free, rose to her feet and looked Ron directly in the eye; she was looking especially tweaked.
"Hey, the new do works …" he said sheepishly.
Kim's eyes narrowed. "You are so lucky I love you or you'd be so busted, Stoppable."
Ron breathed a deep sigh of relief as a wry smile began to spread across his wife's face. She reached up and pulled him in for a kiss, not caring that his mouth was gorchy. He had no time to protest. "Thanks," she said softly, holding his face in her hands after she finished. "And don't tell me you don't want to associate kissing with this place. It's not every day a woman's husband goes all hero and saves her."
"Hey," he replied, puffing out his chest, "As a certain beautilicious Starfleet officer I'm married to likes to say, no big!"
Kim smiled, but Ron could sense he'd said something that bothered her. He was about to speak when she reached up and put a finger on his lips. "It's okay. Trust me."
Ron, though confused, nodded.
Kim took his hand, then turned and looked at the scene around her: the slave market was a shambles. There were Orionisi sprawled unconscious on the floor, and the pens had been ruined. As if symbolizing the sudden turn of events, a very irate Shego lay prone on the ground, a very large Tellarite sitting atop her. She grunted as she tried without success to squirm free from beneath her captor's considerable bulk. Then she cursed as an Andorian affixed a pain inducer to her neck. Satisfied, the blue-skinned, white-haired man looked up at an appalled Kim and Ron and said venomously, "She is one of them; it is time she knew how we have suffered." Then he pressed the button on the unit he held.
Shego screamed in pain.
Ron winced and Kim squeezed his hand. He closed his eye, as if struggling with some-thing. Then Ron looked at the man, his expression wasn't damning but pleading. "You don't want to do that," he said. "You don't want to be like them."
"What do you know? How long have you been here? You would have left with her," the Andorian retorted, pointing to Kim. "Not all of us were fortunate enough to be ransomed."
"But you're free now, dude!" Ron protested, staring at the Andorian.
"No thanks to her. No, she will know what it is like to be a slave!" he declared, pressing the button again, sending a jolt coursing through Shego's body. Her hands began to glow brighter and an inhuman, primal sound escaped from her throat.
"That's enough!" Kim said. "We so don't have time for this!"
"This is none of your affair, human," an angry Denobulan said.
"But it is mine," Ron declared, holding the bat'leth up, ready to strike. "Put the thingie down."
"You cannot be serious!" the Andorian said.
"Don't try me, pal," Ron replied coldly.
"Fine," the man said, disgusted, before tossing the inducer control to the ground. Shego's eyes were unfocused, she was panting – and the glow around her hands was fading, replaced with lurid sparks and greenish smoke.
Kim had wanted to ask Shego about the vortex inducer, but realized it would be some time before the henchwoman was in any condition to talk. Kim tried not to dwell on the spectacle before her; instead she focused on Ron, who had once again given her cause to be proud. If anyone present had reason to press that button, it was her husband. Then she looked at the crowd. "Excuse me!" she called out, trying vainly to make herself heard. "Excuse me!"
The freed captives were now talking and laughing with one another, arguing over whether Ron or the Andorian had been right about what to do with Shego, and casting aspersions at their erstwhile captors.
"YOU WILL BE QUIET!" Worf and Rufus bellowed in unison, stunning the motley group of aliens into silence.
"Thanks, guys," she said before turning to the crowd. "Are any of you rated to fly?"
Kim's question was greeted by just one raised hand. A Vulcan came forward. "I have flown small one-person craft," the woman said.
Kim nodded in response. "One of us will have to go with her," she said to Worf and Rufus. "She'll need help piloting the ship."
"I will accompany her," Worf said.
"Are you sure?" Kim asked.
"Yes," the Klingon said, "Someone needs to ensure that they do not kill her," he said, looking down at Shego.
"Uh, I may be missing something, but what are you guys talking about?" Ron asked. "Isn't Enterprise here? Can't they just beam us all up or something?"
"Ron," Kim sighed, "it's a long story, but we came here on Calypso; it's a very small ship. There's no way we could get everyone on board."
"So what's the plan, then?" he asked
"We're going to have to take an Orionisi transport," she explained.
"Uh, KP, not that I'm fond of these guys right now, but is Starfleet going to be cool with that?"
"Ron," she said looking him in the eyes, "right now, what Starfleet thinks is the least of our worries."
"What do you mean?" he asked.
"I'll explain later," she said, wanting to leave Taigus as quickly as possible. "We have to get out of here before more Orionisi show up."
"Okay, but I need to do something first," he said.
"Ron …" she replied, sounding impatient.
"I have to do this, Kimbo," he said as he trotted off down the path between two pens. "Trust me."
IV.
He desperately wanted to leave this place, leave its stench of corruption and cruelty behind. He wanted to flee to safety. But he couldn't do that without retrieving something, and that meant finding a particular individual. He wandered until he found the man he sought, who was lying motionless, face up on the floor.
Ron knelt down by the unconscious Orionisi. The man had obviously taken a lot of hits: his face was bruised, and green blood trickled down from the corner of his mouth. Ron wanted to feel sympathy, but found he couldn't muster any. The Orionisi had brought this abuse onto himself.
He began searching the Orionisi's pockets, rummaging through their contents until he found what he wanted. He grinned as he withdrew the simple, unadorned wedding band that had its twin on Kim's finger. He held the ring up and considered it before he slipped it on. Then he rose, and took another look at the guard.
Ron Stoppable had always been a gentle, friendly, and yes, goofy, soul. But a lot had happened to him in recent days, and he found the anger at what had been done to him welling up inside. He quickly found himself shaking with rage as he looked at the unconscious slaver, the man who sought to humiliate him, to sell him like an animal, who thought nothing of denying the reality of what he had with Kim. Ron was tempted to use the bat'leth on the man; it would be so easy to kill him, to end his miserable existence. He found himself raising the weapon, readying himself to strike.
But if I do that, Ron told himself, I'll be like them. I'll be no better than that Andorian.
And he didn't want that. As much as Ron Stoppable wanted to exact vengeance upon his tormentors, he knew that wouldn't be right. For while in a very short time the slavers had taken a lot from him, they had, in the end, failed to strip him of his humanity. He low-ered his weapon and turned back to Kim and the others, refusing to do what his captors had tried, but failed, to achieve.
V.
Saavik pursed her lips and gazed at the starfield. Though she couldn't see them amidst the points of light, she knew that the Romulan Warbirds were gathering on the other side of the Neutral Zone.
She had seen her share of fighting during her more than seven decades as a Starfleet officer. She'd even been to war. But the conflict with the Cardassians would pale in com-parison to what would unfold if one side or the other decided to initiate hostilities. She had read the reports from Starfleet Command and had not been impressed by their sanguine predictions of 'holding the line' and 'managed escalation of hostilities.'
"Sir, I thought you would be interested in this," the young blonde-haired officer said as she handed her captain a padd.
Saavik looked at the human, who was wearing a blue and black uniform. The young woman had a long, equine face, her nose was snubbed and she had turned, hooded eyes that seemed filled with ennui. "Thank you, Lieutenant Flanner," the captain said. "And what am I looking at?"
"A probability model to analyze various scenarios that might unfold should hostilities commence between the Federation and the Romulan Star Empire. I believe you will be most interested in the first model."
Saavik looked at the padd, then at the young officer. She knew the story of Justine Flanner – most everyone in Starfleet did. The young woman had won a Nobel Prize when she was eighteen. When Flanner applied to the Academy, the instructors realized that she could be teaching them. They recommended that Starfleet commission Justine as an officer instead of enroll her as a first-year student. Over the next five years she proved to be one of the most competent science officers in the fleet. Saavik often felt that Flanner would have made a good Vulcan – and that was not always intended as a compliment. But she knew the young woman knew what she was doing.
"Thank you, Lieutenant," Saavik said as a way of dismissing the junior officer. She turned to her right. "Mr. Singh, you have the bridge," she said to her XO as she rose from her seat. "I'll be in my ready room."
Saavik entered her private sanctum, approached the replicator and ordered a cup of coffee, Sumatra, black. She had James T. Kirk to thank for that vice. He had introduced her to the Earth beverage decades earlier, and she had never been able to master her desire for it. She had once seen her addiction to caffeine as a vice but had come to view it as a reminder of her fallibility. She knew too many of her kind thought too highly of themselves and their logic, which, for all its power and indeed beauty, was imperfect. Humility had served her well over the decades. She took her hot drink and sat down behind her desk.
She took a sip of her coffee and began to read. Moments later, Saavik arched an eyebrow as she learned that a conflict between the Federation and the Romulan Star Empire had a 92.7 percent chance of drawing in the Klingons, Cardassians, and Ferengi. Assuming Justine Flanner's model was accurate, and there was no reason to think it was anything but, it was all but guaranteed that the entire Alpha Quadrant would be engulfed in the most comprehensive and devastating war ever, hundreds of worlds would be laid waste, and civilization as it was known would come to an end for centuries if not longer.
She set her drink down, entered a series of commands on her desktop computer, and watched as a small recessed panel in her desk opened. She withdrew a small device and pressed a red button on its front.
"Saavik?" a young man said as his image appeared on a screen on the device.
"Hello, Wade," she replied. "It is good to see you."
"You too," he said as he took a sip of his ever-present drink. "What up?"
"I need to speak to President Barkin immediately. Can you put me through?" she asked.
"Barkin?" Wade responded, barely avoiding spitting out his beverage. "Are you serious?" he continued as he began to work his system. "The security surrounding his comm net must be … okay, you're going through."
"Thank you, Wade," she said with what some might have said was an actual smile as the young tech guru's image was replaced by that of a very surprised Federation President.
"Explanation. Now!" he demanded.
"Please excuse the unorthodox method by which I have contacted you, Mr. President, but this is a matter of the utmost importance …"
VI.
Ron emerged from the slave mart and onto the adjacent spaceport.
He saw Calypso and what had to be the transport; both vessels had already powered up their engines and were ready to depart as soon as the remaining freed captives – and he – were safely aboard.
He was about to make a dash for Kim and Calypso when he saw the first of the Orionisi forces. The hulking slavers didn't bother issuing any warnings; they simply started firing shots, bringing down the slowest of the individuals boarding the transport ship.
VII.
Kim Stoppable looked at the monitor that was displaying a video feed of spaceport. She saw would-be captives falling and being pulled to safety, but nobody at the exit through which Ron would have to emerge. Kim cursed the positioning of the two craft. As things stood she couldn't bring any of Calypso's weapons to bear on the Orionisi, who were on the far side of the transport.
"Where is he?" Kim asked, her annoyance and worry etched on her face. "Come on, Ron."
"He will be here," Rufus said with confidence.
"I know, Rufus. I just wish he'd come with us," she said, drumming her fingers on the console. "I still don't know what was so important that he had to go back in there."
"Transport to Calypso."
"Calypso here."
"Kim, the Orionisi are arriving. We must prepare to move out."
"Worf …"
"We cannot leave without you as an escort. If we stay, we will all be enslaved."
Kim bit her lip. The red uniform and four pips and all they represented that she had dreamed of days ago now seemed like a nightmare. This was the reality of command. She was in charge of this mission. She was responsible for not only Ron's safety, but also that of all the people they had saved.
She made a decision.
"Rufus, you're in command," she said as she rose from her seat and picked up her Kim-municator.
"Kim …" he protested.
"I'm not leaving Ron here. Not alone," she said as she opened the weapons locker. She quickly put on a utility belt, grabbed two hand phasers and a Type-3 rifle and made for the hatch.
VIII.
Ron looked across the landing pad. He saw the two crafts and the advancing Orionisi, who were using their weapons with abandon; he noticed that they were now taking pot shots at the ships in addition to the escaping captives. He couldn't make it to Calypso without running the gauntlet of disruptor-wielding slavers.
I guess this is when Worf would say something macho like 'It is a good day to die,' he thought. Well, at least I can help KP and provide a distraction …
He stretched his arms, rolled his shoulders, flexed his fingers, took two deep breaths, told himself he really wasn't scared out of his mind or stark raving mad and, the Sword of Kahless in hand and raised over his head, ran from the mart screaming as loudly as he could.
IX.
Rowf-Rowf-Rowf-Rowf-Rowf-A-ROOWWRRRRRRRRRR!
Just as she dropped to the landing pad, firmly, yet gracefully, landing on two feet, Kim heard the unexpected but wholly welcome sound of Ron's unmistakable Mad Dog cheer. The sound of his voice filled her with hope and determination – and offered a valuable distraction: the Orionisi couldn't help but turn to the strange, wild sound coming from the direction of the slave market.
Kim quickly surveyed the scene, ran a few yards towards Ron, then dropped to the hard surface in a roll, aiming, then firing the rifle at the Orionisi.
The red bolt of energy lanced out of the weapon and struck one of the slavers. She aimed and fired at another, then another, watching as the green-skinned men fell. She knew they'd begin firing in her direction, so continued rolling. Each time she completed a revo-lution, she aimed and let loose another shot. Every few turns, she would roll back in the opposite direction, making her an elusive, unpredictable target for the Orionisi. As she continued firing, she found herself silently thanking Worf for all the seemingly interminable target drills he put his security officers through.
X.
Ron, still running, watched as Kim took down the Orionisi like she was playing one of his VR games. The slavers were falling as fast as the zombies he and Felix would zap when they played Klingon Mayhem. He was closing on her position when he saw her grimace and toss her rifle aside. As she withdrew a phaser, she looked in his direction for a moment. He was surprised to see the look of dread on Kim's face – then he watched in horror as the green bolt from one of the attacker's disruptors reached out towards her …
XI.
Kim swore and scowled as her rifle shorted out. She threw the now-useless weapon to one side and reached for one of her phasers. As she did this, she turned her head and saw Ron, bat'leth in hand, racing towards her. She wondered why Ron looked so horrified – then she felt her blood run cold as the green bolt from one of the slaver's disruptors lanced out towards him …
XII.
"You're sure about this?"
"Mr. President, it is mathematically impossible for one to ever be sure of anything," the Vulcan answered. "But I am 92.7 percent certain that if we engage in hostilities with the Romulans, civilization in this quadrant will all but cease to exist. It could take millennia to recover. That is, if the Borg do not return first and assimilate us all."
"Great," he growled. "So what do you suggest I do? Stand down and let the Romulans off the hook? I need options."
Saavik took a deep breath. She knew Barkin wasn't going to like what she was going to recommend; she wasn't sure she did. Yes, she was a Vulcan, committed to logic and reasoned discourse. But she was also a disciple of Kirk and Spock who wanted to act. Still, she knew this was the correct course of action and she was confident the President would do the right thing. "Keep the Fleet intact, but back from the Neutral Zone. Put more space between our ships and theirs; that will reduce the potential for an inadvertent commencement of hostilities."
"And then what?"
"Hope for a miracle. I believe that's what Captains Kirk and Spock usually did."
"You're joking."
"Mr. President," she said calmly, "I am a Vulcan. I do not joke."
XIII.
Yori Tanaka lay on the floor of the corridor before the secure storage unit that she believed held the Sword of Kahless, unable to move, wondering when she would either wake up or fall asleep. She felt uneasy, sensing that she had failed in a deep, existential sense. For reasons she couldn't articulate, she felt that she had behaved … dishonorably.
Making matters worse was that staring at her was none other than Montgomery Fiske, who had come to demand the release of the Sword. They had been arguing, indeed grappling as the enraged, seemingly unhinged diplomat tried to gain access to the bat'leth. They were still fighting when the toxic gas overwhelmed them.
Now, they lay on the deck of Enterprise, looking at one another, Yori not sure why this man reminded her of the demons Sensei had told her about when she was a child, Fiske unable to understand why he felt this woman had kept him from something he knew he so desperately wanted.
XIV.
"You two certainly took your time."
A stunned Kim and Ron gaped at Rufus, who was looking over his shoulder at them. They looked down and realized they were on a transporter pad. Then they looked at each other and immediately smacked lips.
"Okay, Rondo," Kim whispered, "more later. I have to help Rufus get us out of here."
Ron flashed a goofy grin at his wife. "Go get 'em, KP," he said as they rose to their feet.
As Kim dropped into the pilot's seat, Rufus looked at her. "I am returning command of Calypso to you. What are your orders?"
"Let's get out of here," she said. "Now."
XV.
"This … thing … can alter the very fabric of space and time, but it's completely incom-patible with 24th century technology! What kind of lousy doomsday device is this?" Lore fumed, as he threw up his hands in disgust. "No wonder nobody back then ever suc-ceeded in taking over the world. Their stuff was junk!"
The android stared at the EPS conduit into which he had planned to insert the Pan-Dimensional Vortex Inducer. According to his study of the ship's schematics, the site outside of Main Deflector Control should have been ideal. Unfortunately, the PDVI and Enterprise's systems were incompatible.
Lore, frustrated, kicked the bulkhead with enough force to leave a noticeable indentation. With a dark scowl on his face, the android took the PDVI and stalked to the turbolift so he could return to Main Engineering to begin to fabricate a universal adapter.
XVI.
"Calypso to transport."
"Transport here," Worf responded to Kim's hail.
"Worf, what's your maximum speed?"
"It is Warp 8.7," he said, clearly pleased with the transport's capabilities.
"Spankin'" Kim said in a tone that matched the Klingon's. "Maneuverability?"
"More than satisfactory," Worf answered. "I suspect this vessel was used to transport captives from beyond Syndicate territory."
"You're probably right," Kim agreed before continuing. "Worf, here's the sitch. We've got to get out of here, and fast. As soon as we break orbit, I'd like us to go to half impulse, then when we cross the orbital plane, we'll go to Warp 8.5 on my mark. You take point, we'll cover your rear."
"I assume you have a plan for dealing with the Orionisi defense net?" Worf asked.
"I'm hoping there's a way to take it down. Let's hope I'm right," Kim said as she pulled out her Kimmunicator and pressed the call button.
"Hi, Kim!" Wade said. "Do you have Ron?"
She couldn't help but smile. "Right here, Wade. When we get back I may have to have you implant a microchip in him so I never lose him again."
"Hey!" Ron protested. "You can get this pain thingie off me first."
Kim winced before she turned and sheepishly said, "Sorry 'bout that, Ron. I will as soon as I can." She then turned back to Wade, who, not aware of Ron's current electronic accessory, was chuckling. "Think you can bring down a planetary defense system?" she asked.
"I don't see why not," the young man said nonchalantly. "Do you have any probes on board?"
"We have a full complement of Type Seven astrophysical probes," Rufus announced.
"One of those will do," Wade said. "I need to establish a link between the Kimmunicator and Calypso, then from Calypso to one of the probes. Then you can launch the probe and I'll take care of everything from there."
"How so?" Kim inquired.
"Simple," Wade said. "I'm going to program the probe to transmit a command protocol to the Orionisi defense network telling it to shut down."
"You can do that?" Kim asked.
"Sure can. It helps to have hacked into the Syndicate's defense network …"
"Wade, don't tell me you anticipated this possibility," Kim said skeptically.
"Nah," he said as he took a sip of his drink. "I just like hacking their systems. They're pretty good, so it keeps me sharp."
XVII.
Thanks to Wade's wizardry, Calypso and its charge were able to leave the Taigus system without incident.
"Rufus, set a course for the Romulan Neutral Zone," Kim ordered as they broke the orbital plane. "Maximum warp." She knew that while the Syndicate's defense net had been rendered harmless, the Orionisi could still scramble ships and probably had some around Taigus. She wanted to put lots of space between themselves and the Orionisi as quickly as possible.
"Course and speed set … Captain," Rufus said with a twinkle in his eye.
Kim rolled her eyes.
"Captain?" Ron asked. "Did you get a promotion, KP?"
Kim shot Rufus a look, then rose from her seat and headed back to Ron. Her dark expression was immediately replaced by a smile as she saw Ron sitting in his boxers.
"We so need to find you some pants and a clean shirt," she said.
"Tell me about it," he replied. "It's chilly in here. As for shirts, something that breathes would be nice."
Kim rolled her eyes as she rummaged through a locker aft of Ron's seat. "Here, these should work," she said as she returned to Ron with a pair of utility pants and a tunic.
Ron slid on the gray trousers, took off his old shirt and donned the charcoal-colored top. "The Ronman is stylin'!"
Kim laughed, happy to see her husband jesting again. "Goof," she said.
"Yes, but I'm your goof. And I don't think the green boys have a return policy!"
Kim stared at Ron, surprised and a bit worried to hear him joking about what had recently happened.
Ron could sense Kim's concern. "KP," he said seriously, "if I don't kid about it, I'll start freaking out. To be honest, the first thing I'm going to do when we get back to Enterprise is find Counselor Troi and book about a bazillion sessions with her."
Kim grimaced, then sat down on Ron's lap. "That's not going to be easy," she said softly.
"What are you talking about?" he asked. "She wasn't transferred, was she?"
"No," Kim said, taking a deep breath. She explained all that had happened on Enterprise. "So, you see, Ron, I'm not only not in Starfleet, I'll probably be spending the next few decades at the penal colony in New Zealand."
Ron was stunned. "You threw away your career for me?" he asked in a hushed, awed voice.
Kim reached up to Ron's face and gently caressed his scars. "You threw away your face for me," she said.
"Not the same thing, KP," Ron protested.
"You're right," she retorted. "You risked your life. All I did was give up a job."
"Ki–" he began before stopping, knowing that she meant what she said. "What about Worf and Rufus?" he asked.
"They're big boys who wanted to do the right thing," she replied. "And they're your friends."
Ron mulled that over. "Well, we've got this badical ship. Maybe we could become pirates?"
Kim shot him a look he remembered all too well from high school when he suggested doing something not quite on the straight and narrow.
"Okay. No on the pirate thing," Ron said. "You know, KP, I'm all about kiwi fruit."
"So you'll visit me in prison?" she asked, a wry expression on her face.
"Sha," Ron said, waving a hand dismissively. "I'll be there with you …"
It was Kim's turn to look surprised.
"… Hey, I've been your sidekick since we did the Martian Red Cross thing in high school. And while I had to be satisfied with a Gentleman's C in Latin, I'm pretty sure that 'sidekick' is Latin for 'accessory'," Ron said as he cupped Kim's face in his large hands. "Kimila, if they send you to the Big House, I'm going with you."
She gazed into Ron's eye and smiled. Then Ron pulled her in for a kiss. As with their other kisses since Kim freed Ron, neither cared that his mouth tasted awful. The kiss began slowly, but quickly built in intensity, their relief and mutual desire mingling. They quickly forgot about their concerns, even where they were, until the red-alert klaxon began blaring.
Kim quickly broke the kiss, climbed off Ron's lap and returned to her seat by Rufus.
"Sitch me," she ordered.
"I have detected three Orionisi marauders," he said "They are on an intercept course."
"Speed?"
"Warp 9.0"
"Time to intercept?"
"Three minutes."
"Snap," Kim swore before she activated the comm link with the other ship. "Worf, we're about to have some company,"
"I have them on sensors," he said.
"Does that transport have any weapons?"
"Yes."
"Good. You may need them. The Orionisi will be here soon."
"We will be ready to greet them with phaser fire," the Klingon replied, as he began to anticipate battle.
"No," Kim said. "I know you want to stay and fight, but we're going to try to draw them off while you make a run for it …"
Worf forced himself to set aside his distaste at retreating, knowing it was the only sound course. "As much as it pains me, I must agree," he replied. "Good luck, Kim. Worf out."
"Rufus," Kim said after the transport ended its transmission. "Set a course for the Orion-isi, maximum warp," she said before turning to look back at Ron, who smiled at her encouragingly.
"I know the Ronman is irresistible, but keep your eyes on the road, KP," he quipped.
Kim couldn't help but smirk. "You are so prone to big-headiness," she said playfully before turning serious. "Ron, this is going to be a much dicier sitch than the one at Ras T'klar. Once the shooting begins, things will get pretty rough. I need you to make sure your restraints are properly secured." Kim was grateful that Calypso was equipped with safety belts; she wondered why it seemed to be the only ship in Starfleet to be so equipped.
Ron had no trouble sensing the change in Kim's demeanor. He nodded, said "Gotcha," then gave her a thumb's up before he reached for the straps and buckles
Kim looked into Ron's eye and then at his hands.
Ron's hands were trembling; it was almost imperceptible, most likely because he was trying to control the shaking. Kim could see that he was scared, though if asked, she suspected he'd never admit that to her. Yet she knew that despite his fear, if he had to, he'd climb out of Calypso's airlock and fight the Orionisi with his bare hands. Over the past eleven days, along with everything else she'd come to recognize about Ron, Kim had learned that despite any other faults or shortcomings Ron had – and have those he most surely did – her best friend-turned-husband was easily the bravest person she'd ever known or would know. She recognized that he must have always been this way, back on Mars, during their EVA training, perhaps even back in pre-K when he tried to protect her. She couldn't help but be affirmed and empowered by his support and encouragement, given freely despite his fears and anxieties.
Ron returned Kim's steady gaze. She was without question the most competent person he knew. She could be bossy and short-tempered. But she was smart, resourceful and incredibly brave; he'd known that ever since she pulled that thuggish little Andorian off of him almost eighteen years earlier. Looking at her, he was able to set aside his fears about the coming engagement, knowing that if anyone could get them out of this mess, it was Kim.
"Hey," Ron said. "I know there are three of them and one of us, Kimbo, but don't forget: you can do anything."
"As long as you've got my back," she replied.
"Consider it gotten," he said, grinning.
Kim smiled, took another look at her husband, then turned back to her instrument panel and the naked mole rat.
"Okay, Rufus, time to kick some slaver biscuit."
XVIII.
The marauders broke their formation, intending to overtake and thus surround Calypso. What the Orionisi hadn't counted on was the small ship's speed, which would enable the Starfleet craft to easily outrun the Syndicate vessels. Kim was grateful for that advantage, because the enemy ships were more heavily armed. In ideal circumstances, she'd use her speed to slip away from this engagement; but she needed to stay so the transport could make good its escape.
"We are now in weapons range," Rufus reported just as Calypso was rocked by the first attack from one of the marauders. "Shields are at maximum strength."
"Okay, hold on," Kim said as she boosted her ship's speed and began evasive maneuvers.
Ron very quickly felt like he was on a vertiginous roller coaster; he wondered if he'd be presented with a cleaning bill if he hurled on Calypso's carpet. To keep his mind off his stomach woes, he focused on the back of Kim's head. Seeing her with short hair was novel enough that he began to forget about his crummy tummy.
Kim put Calypso into a tight corkscrew and eventually found herself behind one of the marauders. "Fire!" she ordered as Rufus targeted the phasers on the other ship's warp core.
"Direct hit!" Rufus exulted as the other ship dropped out of warp, indeed stopped dead in the water.
"Booyah!" Ron cheered. "Rufus, you are da man!"
"Thank you," the naked mole rat said before checking on the status of his weapons and defensive systems.
"The marauders are coming in together," Kim reported.
"Phasers are locked on the forward ship," Rufus said.
"There are two more coming in from eight o'clock!" Kim said.
Calypso rocked as it took fire from two of the ships.
"We've been hit; shields are down to 77 percent."
"Engaging in evasive maneuvers, pattern Harriman Delta Five Tango" Kim said. "Hold on!"
Ron felt like the bottom fell out of his stomach as Calypso immediately responded to Kim's commands. The sleek ship pirouetted on an imaginary axis, then headed at high warp on a course that was at a ninety-degree angle from its previous heading before sud-denly turning back towards the enemy.
"Arm photon torpedoes," Kim ordered. "I need a spread. We have to take out some of those ships or we are so done for."
"Torpedoes armed," Rufus reported.
The marauders were now redeploying, trying to compensate for Calypso's superior speed and maneuverability.
"Kim, there is an incoming transmission from one of the Orionisi ships."
"Put it through," she growled, "and take helm control. Don't let them touch us."
As a familiar image appeared on Calypso's small viewscreen, Kim arched an eyebrow and smirked. "Rayna. I should have known."
The Orionisi diplomat offered Kim a feline smile in response before speaking. "Kim Stoppable. How nice to see you."
"Sorry, but I can't say the feeling's mutual," Kim replied. "I'm sure you'll understand. The husband stealing? I'm so not down with that."
"Yes, I'm sure. But if anyone should be harboring ill will right now, it's me, don't you think? Someone just made off with my entire stock."
"You are so ferociously flawed, Rayna," Kim snapped. "They're people, not things."
"What they are is thousands of bars of latinum in lost profit," the Orionisi replied coolly. "You, however, will at least help me regain a small portion of what I have lost. Surrender and prepare to be boarded."
"As if," Kim said dismissively.
"Brave words, child. We'll see how bold you are when you're wearing a pain inducer," Rayna said imperiously before abruptly ending the transmission.
"Kim," Rufus said. "There are two more marauders converging on our position."
Kim looked at Rufus, then at Ron. "I'm not making this decision alone. Calypso wasn't designed to fight off that many ships. We can still surrender."
"Well," Ron said, rubbing the back of his neck. "I've done the whole slave thing, and to tell you the truth, it's really overrated. I'd rather go down fighting. Though I'm cool with whatever you want to do, KP. You are, after all, the captain of this tub."
"He is right," Rufus stated. "On both counts."
She looked Ron and Rufus, realizing she was not just seeing a naked mole rat and her husband, but two men who saw her as their leader and themselves as her crew.
She realized that Calypso was truly now her first command.
"Then we fight," Kim said with resolve. "Mr. Rufus, prepare to fire a full torpedo spread on my mark …" She gave the order and the weapons were launched, taking another of the Orionisi vessels out of the fight.
The battle continued and yet another marauder was crippled. Calypso, however, was being hammered. The Orionisi had their own version of photon torpedoes, and were launching them at the Starfleet craft, while also targeting the vessel with disruptor fire. Sparks were beginning to fly from instrument panels and steam hissed from depressurizing pipes. The cabin lights winked out, casting Kim, Ron, and Rufus into darkness be-fore the emergency lights came on.
Kim was banking Calypso when yet another torpedo detonated off the ship's aft quarter, rocking them violently.
"Captain," Rufus said without any irony or humor in his voice, "Shields are down to five percent. Another hit and we will be exposed."
"How are we on torpedoes?" Kim asked.
"We have exhausted our supply."
"Phasers?"
"They are off-line," Rufus said. "We have no weapons."
"Is the transport out of danger?"
"Yes."
"Then let's get out of here. Maximum warp."
As Kim gave the order the ship rocked again and again.
"They have hit the port nacelle," Rufus growled. "Curses! We are dropping out of warp."
Calypso was at the mercy of the Orionisi ships.
TBC …