—Chapter 4—
"Oh, crap," said Trip.
"Commander Tucker," said T'Pol, "report."
She thought that the Commander must be close to the the area in which the captives were held, though none of the team had reported seeing the man.
"That was a report, T'Pol," said Trip. "I smell feces all around me. This must be where the captives relieve themselves. I hope I haven't crawled through any of it yet, though with four hundred captives the odds weigh against me."
Ke'Relle's laughter was heard on the comm channel.
"Keep laughing, Baby," said Trip. "When I see you I'm going to wrap my sweater around your head until you pass out from the stench."
Ke'Relle's laughter was muffled now, like she was laughing up her sleeve, but it was still there.
"Wait 'till I get my hands on you, Ke'Relle. Anyway," said Trip, "I'm not crawling through a field full of crap. I'd rather get shot."
Trip unbuckled his pants, lowered them to his knees, then rose to a squat, as if he was a captive, relieving himself, for the benefit of any Orion which might be watching. As he was going commando, Trip gave everyone a free show of his glutes.
"Oh, yeah," said Ke'Relle. "Yeah, yeah, yeah…"
"Shut up, Ke'Relle," said T'Pol.
"Take it all in, ladies," said Trip. "You too Malcolm, Captain. You get glutes like this from heavy squats."
"Is that your prick or a roll of dimes I see dangling in the wind?" said Malcolm.
"Shut up, all of you," said T'Pol. "Back to business."
A moment later, Trip stood, pulled up his pants and started openly walking towards the mass of captives, while buckling his belt. One of the Orion guards approached Trip and snarled something at him and Trip responded to the Orion in English, only to be struck with the butt of the Orion's rifle and ordered back to the captives group.
"No one touch that bastard. He's mine," said Trip, before taking the comm patch from his throat an pocketing it, lest an Orion see the patch in the brighter light up ahead.
The entire team watched as Trip made his way into the midst of the Orion's captives, Archer doing so by proxy as the feed from the team was transmitted to the ship. Finally the Commander passed into a tree covered area and they lost visual track of him, though his position was still being clearly transmitted through his comm unit.
"We heard from the Vulcan High Command, T'Pol," said Archer.
"Oh?"
"They've redirected two of their battle-cruisers and a small troop carrier our way. When I say small troop carrier, it's rated to carry 1200 hundred troopers, so it's more than adequate."
"I am familiar with that class of ship, Captain," said T'Pol. "How long until they get here?"
"Seventy-three hours."
"What do we do with these people once we rescue them," said T'Pol, "if the Orions return before the Vulcan ships arrive?"
Archer had nothing at the moment, but Ke'Relle said, "We can use the Orion captives to lure the rest of them down to the planet. The weapons carried by the guards combined with our own numbers should be some two-hundred phasers. We'll cut them into minced meat."
"I would prefer to avoid needless confrontation if we could," said T'Pol, and Archer agreed in the background.
"You forget that these Orions are probably returning with more captives," said Ke'Relle. "We should rescue any such captives, then execute the Orions in order to send a message to the Syndicate."
Once again, T'Pol could find no fault with Ke'Relle's logic, yet her cold blooded advice on dealing with the Orions troubled her Vulcan sensibilities. Some movement on the field below caught T'Pol's eye, and after looking at the source of it through her rifle's scope, she said, "I see your security teams have arrived, Lieutenant Reed."
"Yes," said Malcolm, "and I'm not pleased that you can see them. The Orions might do the same."
"They're settling down now," said T'Pol. "Now we wait to hear from Commander Tucker."
Trip moved slowly through the crowd of captives, looking casually around, and the sight of it all was depressing. He recognized a few Klingons, two dozen Vulcans, some fifty humans, a hundred Risans more or less, and another half dozen species he could not identify, to fill out the numbers. The lot of them were dirty, disheveled and at first glace fearful, but here and there Trip saw hard eyes, heard some angry voices and sensed barely contained violence. Some of these people would fight the Orions, if given the chance.
Feeling someone's eyes on him, Trip turned his head to find a group of Andorians staring at him. This seemed as good a place to start as any. Crossing the space that separated them, Trip squatted in front of the Andorians and gave them a nod. They were a hard looking group, and under other circumstances an unwanted intruder would likely have been rudely treated, but in their current predicament, their misery created a certain sense of camaraderie, so they looked at him curiously. Trip discretely drew out his comm unit and activated the translation app, which had Vulcan, Risan and a bit of Klingon programmed into it.
"Do you speak Vulcan?" said Trip, only to hear his English words translated into Vulcan a moment later.
He was gambling here, for although Andorians and Vulcans were not on good terms, they were from the same sector of space, and it was possible that some Andorians spoke some Vulcan and vice versa. There was almost zero chance the Andorians understood English. The Andorians spoke quietly among themselves. They recognized the Vulcan tongue, but none could speak it. A tap on the touchscreen to translate English into Risan now.
"Do you speak Risan?"
"I speak a little Risan," said one of the Andorians.
"I'm Tucker, of the starship Enterprise. We're here to help you people."
The Andorian smiled, spoke to the rest of them, then looked back at Trip, and said, "How can we help?"
"We have some of our men outside the camp, ready to storm it on my mark. When we're ready to make our move, our ship will break cover in order to transport eighty phaser pistols to my location. We need to pass them out quickly, but discreetly to anyone willing to fight."
It took a few moments to rephrase and repeat some of the parts the Andorian had trouble understanding, then the Andorian spoke quickly to the rest.
"You get us those weapons, Tucker, and we will fight the Orions," said the Andorian, a nasty smile on his face. "Have no fear of that."
"Good. I need to find some others willing to do the same. You can help me, but be subtle, move casually, don't show any excitement. If the Orions sense something is off, that could hurt our chances."
"I understand, Tucker," said the Andorian. "What species are you?"
"Human," said Trip as he stood, stretched and moved casually towards some Vulcans who were watching him curiously, having no doubt heard his discussion with the Andorians, due to their sharp hearing.
Captain Archer had watched the blip representing Trip moving slowly but steadily through the crowd of Orion captives for hours. Knowing Trip, the man was making connections. Restlessly, he reached out to T'Pol.
"SubCommander," said Archer. "How's it going down there?"
"Thirty men ready and waiting to go in at my signal, Lieutenant Reed in the lead. They will be splitting up and taking out the guards. Ke'Relle staying where she is. She will be sniping at any of the Orions approaching the phaser cannon and those reptilian beasts which the Orions employ as guard dogs. She claims to be a good shot."
"Ok. I wonder how much longer 'till we hear from Trip."
"He is doing the best he can, I am sure," said T'Pol. "I've caught sight of him now and then, and followed his movements through his comm unit. The man missed his calling. He should have been a diplomat, instead of an engineer."
Archer snorted, and said, "Yeah, I'll suggest him for the Diplomatic Corps. Better yet, I'll have him posted on Vulcan."
"I am certain that the Commander would come to love that posting," said T'Pol earnestly, and it was only good manners that kept Archer from laughing in her face, for Trip was not fond of desert planets.
Click, click, beep, heard T'Pol. It was a private message from the Commander.
"Give me a moment, Captain," said T'Pol, then activated her link to Commander Tucker, and said, "Yes, Commander."
"Do you have a fix on my location, T'Pol?"
"Yes, Commander."
"Have the Enterprise assume orbit and transport the phasers to my location. I don't think breaking cover is too much of a risk. These guys have no discipline. The guards have been drinking for hours now. I doubt that anyone is monitoring sensors at this time, if such sensors even exist."
T'Pol agreed with the Commander's assessment of the Orions.
"Remember, Commander, to wait for my go ahead, before you act. We have to give the security team a chance to quietly remove as many of the guards as possible, before you make your charge, or else they will decimate you with fire from your flanks and rear."
"I understand, T'Pol."
"Your fellow combatants are ready?"
"Ye. A willing man for every phaser. As soon as you transport them in, we'll pass them out discretely, unless the alarm goes up, in which case we'll all rush for the box and charge the Orions, while the security team engages the guards. We have some cover, so it's not a suicide mission, but we'll still take some casualties. I assume the medics are standing by?"
"Yes, Commander," said T'Pol and contacted the Enterprise.
A minute later, a plastic box, five feet long, two feet wide, materialized in front of Trip. He was surrounded by male captives moving casually around him to conceal the transport of the weapons from the Orions. Trip checked a few of the weapons and found them fully charged. One by one, the phasers passed from hand to hand among the crowd, in order to end up in the hand of a man desperate enough to use it. Now it was just a matter of waiting.
"T'Pol."
"Yes, Commander."
"I spoke with Rostov earlier and gave him some special instructions. Has he made any headway with the project I assigned him?"
"I"ve been told by Captain Archer that he completed it," said T'Pol, "and the Enterprise will execute your vision on my mark."
"Good, good," said Trip. "You tell us when, T'Pol."
"Stand by, Commander."