Abandoned thoroughfare
Four kilometers outside Nuvia City, Risa
They all stared down at the trunk.
The one filled with somewhere upwards of a billion credits in Risian trade certificates.
"We're…we're rich." Travis said, just beginning to grin about that.
"No, we're stinking rich." Hoshi said, gazing in awe.
"No, we're stupid, stinking rich." Trip corrected, already doing the math here. "Say…ten thousand of those certificates to a bundle…twelve bundles…that's one billion, two hundred million credits…and that's two hundred million split six ways…"
"No." T'Pol said, clearly. "We are not rich. We are in significant trouble."
Loya was already nodding anxiously.
"Yes. That's big trouble. Very, very big trouble."
Malcolm immediately jerked his attention to the sky.
Which caused everyone else to look there, too. Because he'd done so in such a dramatic manner that they had to look to see what…
Oh, right. Satellites.
That kind of very, very big trouble.
"Fight or flight, Captain?" He said, frowning at the sky. And then down the wide open area extending in either direction. Then stepping back away from everyone to get another look at all of that from a different perspective…
T'Pol considered the certificates in the trunk carefully. While Travis caught up to the situation. And Hoshi and Trip were just beginning to.
She considered the certificates for long enough as to make everyone a little more nervous than they already suddenly were. Which was quite a lot to begin with.
"Neither just yet." She decided. "Secure the trunk. Loya, are you familiar with wilderness camouflage?"
"You mean…hiding behind trees?"
"Never mind. Malcolm, lead the efforts there. Both of you search for any transmitters or radioactive satellite flags and destroy them. Then hide the vehicle. Trip, be sure the key is not left in the trunk this time."
She tossed the certificate she held back into the trunk, just in time for Trip to slam it shut hastily. Before any of the very, very big troubles in there might jump out and get them.
They got to work quickly and they moved efficiently, T'Pol was gratified to see.
They had the hovercar hidden from view in moments, that section of the wood looking more or less like any other by the time they were through. No sign of satellite tags or transmitters, at least none that they could detect without scanners of some sort.
A second thorough check of the surrounding area revealed nothing that had been missed.
And the fact that nothing had yet descended on them from the sky in force made clear that matters hadn't escalated to the point where local law enforcement tracked any of their individual data units or availed themselves of the ability to eavesdrop through them.
So they were ready to move out.
Which forced her to confront where exactly they were to move out to.
So she contemplated that, while the rest of the team adjusted themselves to the situation.
Malcolm took the electronic key to the hovercar when Trip offered it, placing that securely in his pocket…and dislodging a couple of the white, gaudily embroidered bits of cloth he had stuffed in that pocket. Thus finally becoming aware of them.
Loya becoming aware of them, too. Helping him to stoop down and retrieve them.
And thus recognizing what they were and what they represented.
Forcing Travis and Trip to work together pulling her away from Malcolm before she could injure him any further. Thankfully being too completely out of her mind with fury to put any actual hand to hand combat skill into that.
T'Pol decided to defer her contemplations after a moment to investigate that, once it was clear the matter would not resolve itself quickly.
"What is the matter?" She demanded.
Malcolm just looked stunned, unable to comprehend why Loya suddenly wanted to rip his face off.
Hoshi was still fairly lucid, however, and she'd retrieved a couple of the cloths to present to her.
They were simple, four by three centimeter pieces of white linen, embroidered in purple, pink or crimson red. On each, a name stitched artfully in Risian, with a matching imprint to the side. The imprint apparently being placed there by the application of too much lipstick, transferring the excess to the cloth by mouth.
T'Pol looked up from that, to offer Hoshi an unspoken question.
"Love letters." Hoshi frowned. "The local prostitutes hand these out. They're…coupons, I guess. You get a discount with those for…whatever the color of the border represents."
T'Pol glanced at the…'love letters' in her hand. And the ones spilled on the ground all between Malcolm and the place where Travis and Trip were still wrestling with Loya.
And the bulge in Malcolm's pocket, where the rest of the cloths still were.
Easily a dozen of them, if not more.
Loya had finally stopped struggling against the men holding her in place over there. And she had calmed herself enough to remember she could easily incapacitate them both, if she took a mind to.
She was fairly skilled, after all.
So T'Pol thought it prudent to take matters in hand before it occurred to her to do that.
"Loya, control yourself." She ordered.
Loya immediately launched into what would surely be long, detailed diatribe against Malcolm, alternating between expressions of rage, violent intent and tearful accusations. All in Orion and too rapid to translate. Which didn't matter, since none of them but Hoshi would understand any of it.
But T'Pol didn't have time for all of that.
"Now, Loya!" She snapped.
She didn't appreciate having to behave in that manner and avoided it wherever possible. But it was occasionally, if very rarely, the logical approach with emotional crewmen. And Loya was Orion. Having at least partially accepted her as a pseudo-matriarchal figure here, she responded in the appropriately Orion manner.
She shut up and stopped screaming at everyone. And struggled to control herself.
T'Pol nodded, affirming that behavior.
"Now," She said, speaking clearly. "Before we go further, check your pockets and belongings for any other clues. Obviously that should already have occurred to us, but we will do so now. Loya…Travis and Trip will release you now. And you will do nothing further regarding Malcolm until all details are known here, and I have heard and approve of whatever you intend. Understood?"
Loya still huffed. And still eyed Malcolm viciously a time or two. But she begrudgingly muttered something in Orion that T'Pol perceived as roughly equivalent to an acknowledgment.
So, well enough.
They checked their belongings and their pockets. Malcolm had a total of fourteen 'love letters', which he turned over to Trip to keep. Who then turned them over to T'Pol, when she found that unacceptable.
Travis discovered an invitation in the pocket of his silk jacket. A paper thin video card announcing the wedding reception of Oscent Raxt'la and Eleyay Du'kar. Scheduled for the previous evening. Which was both interesting and dreadful, as the name of their client happened to be Boskin Du'kar. The Orion…'business man' clearly indicated as hosting the reception and, fairly obviously, the father of the bride.
Hence, T'Pol supposed, his putting off making the trade with them at the docks until later today. He'd apparently had a more pressing engagement.
That led directly to the matter of Trip's wedding ring. Which he insisted he knew nothing about, even after repeated detailed questioning and investigation by T'Pol.
Who then took that into her keeping as well.
Other than that, nothing more that had not already been discovered.
Except that Hoshi's near constant fidgeting since they'd awoken finally required investigating. And she went behind one of the buildings to investigate the burning sensation on her…lower stomach.
Calling T'Pol and Loya over, looking decidedly pale, when she discovered the source of it. T'Pol first, then Loya, as Loya was required to verify Hoshi's uncertain translation.
She had two words tattooed there, one above the other. Very low on the stomach.
Extremely low. Directly across the recently shaved pubic mound, in fact.
Bra'shel M'ael.
The High Orion term for 'slave to greed'. Or, as Loya insisted, more accurately, 'belonging to avarice'.
That was…very curious.
T'Pol had reason soon enough to acknowledge how and why she'd long since come to appreciate adapting to unexpected circumstances quickly. They often seem to be followed far too rapidly by situations requiring some measure of understanding of those new circumstances.
So it was logical to adapt quickly and accurately perceive the unexpected as rapidly as possible.
Otherwise, as was too often the case even then, something would occur that you would be entirely unprepared to respond to in the most efficient and effective manner.
And so it was here.
They were only just beginning to fully internalize the situation they found themselves in. In fact, barely even that.
When Malcolm spotted a vehicle approaching from further down the thoroughfare. From the direction of Nuvia City.
T'Pol assessed the situation as quickly as she could, still far too ignorant of the details for comfort.
There were three most likely possibilities here.
One, their presence in the area had been detected by authorities charged with keeping it free from loiterers and trespassers. With that vehicle approaching to, hopefully, politely advise them to leave. Which they would then promptly do, as they intended to already, and thus avoid any trouble here.
Two, that this was a public area and their presence did not constitute trespassing. And so the vehicle approaching likely contained civilians, who would at best stop for a moment to express curiosity at their presence before moving on again. Again, avoiding any unnecessary trouble.
Or three…which would be the other one billion, two hundred million other possibilities, all directly relevant to the one billion, two hundred million in the trunk of the hidden car. All safely filed together under one broad category. That being the high likelihood of an aggressive confrontation about to take place here.
That in turn likely resulting in violence of some sort.
She, Hoshi and Malcolm were currently standing in open view, in the middle of the thoroughfare. Trip, Travis and Loya were off to one side, where they'd dragged her nearly between the buildings nearby in their attempt to stop her from further injuring Reed. Close enough that there was at least a possibility that they had not yet been spotting, considering the line of sight from the vehicle to them.
"Trip," She said, without turning her head. "Move immediately behind the smaller building, out of sight. Travis and Loya, inside the larger building. Is anyone armed?"
She heard the three moving over there behind her, as instructed. But no one answered regarding armament.
So they were unarmed, all of them. Something else she should have established quickly, the moment she realized the potential danger they were in.
There was nothing to be done for it now, though.
She stood and waited patiently then. Malcolm, bruised and shirtless to one side. Hoshi at least properly dressed and uninjured, if lacking any notable combat skill.
They waited.
And the vehicle arrived.
The men exiting from the cab and jumping from the open back of the vehicle…were clearly not authorities of any sort. And while obviously civilian…they were dressed in a manner that could be described as dubious. At best.
The first man would be the leader of this rabble, T'Pol decided. Because he approached confidently and with an air of threatening aggression. Glaring tightly at them, while the others looked amused or even excited.
"Who the hell are you people?" The man asked.
T'Pol glanced over them quickly, assessing the situation.
Six men, all with ja'risia on their foreheads. The small, gold-colored disks that Risian natives traditionally wore. They looked authentic and weren't the sort of thing that she supposed gangs and thugs would wear otherwise. So these men were not only Risians but Risian natives.
They appeared relatively young, perhaps in their twenties. But Risians aged slower than the norm for humanoids of that type, so they could be estimated to be in their early thirties, at most.
That in turn indicated that they'd managed to survive to that age while pursuing, presumably, criminal and likely violent careers. Which was somewhat discouraging, as it indicated both success and survivability in that pursuit.
However…their dress included a predominance of black leather, dull silver spikes intended to suggest menace and colorful tattoos with violent motifs. That did not suggest a serious minded attention to such a career and spoke to a simple fascination with the chaotic and self-destructive aspects of the lifestyle.
So perhaps these men had simply been very lucky so far. She would have to determine that more directly.
"Well?" The man growled. "Are you going to tell me who you are and what the hell you're doing here or do my boys have to start bashing some skulls in?"
"Are you armed?" T'Pol asked.
The man looked puzzled for a brief moment. But only briefly. Long enough to recognize that was nothing near the sort of response he'd expected.
"Armed?" He asked, mockingly. "What do you mean 'armed'?"
"Armed." She said again. "Do you possess weaponry? Energy weapons or hand to hand weaponry. Knives, clubs or laser blades…"
The man snapped his fingers, throwing one hand out to his side to send that snap back to his men. Who immediately began reaching within their clothing.
"Yeah, we're 'armed'." He said, glaring at her. "You want to see what we're 'armed' with?"
"Yes, thank you."
They all had weapons presented quickly enough. Waving them about in some cases, so that they could be seen clearly.
Mostly simple steel knives. A pair of polycarbon stealth knuckles in one case. The leader even producing a knife that combined both, in order to menace her with it.
She considered the weaponry on display. Especially the knife immediately before her.
No energy weapons and nothing particularly well crafted.
That seemed…suspicious. Considering she and her crew had apparently come across the certificates stashed here and elected to confiscate them, that indicated a high probability that these men were here to collect them, having stashed them here in the first place.
It was not very likely that any group capable of securing those certificates in the first place would be so poorly armed. So they were obviously holding out, electing not to produce the much more deadly armament they surely had available to them.
Because, of course, they'd stumbled upon civilians at their cache point. And civilians only needed frightening away with the simple brandishing of knives and such.
So they were only pretending to be thugs. Because that was deemed sufficient here for their purposes. So they were relatively smart. Somewhat disciplined. And, of course, armed.
"Well?" The man demanded.
She cast another quick glance over the weaponry presented. And rapidly assessed the position the men had taken.
Then nodded at the leader slightly.
"That will be sufficient." She said.
And she tensed, preparing to disarm the man and take the blade. Taking him in hand as well, using her superior strength to spin him about to her chest as a shield. While Malcolm engaged in order to do the same with one of the other men, until proper weaponry presented itself.
Then moving in to secure one of those. And to proceed progressively from there.
It was very likely that some of her crew would die here. Perhaps as many as half, and perhaps even her mate. But there was no other choice. Even if they managed to leave on foot, after suffering the necessary harassment in order to insure their intimidation, these men would quickly discover the certificates were gone and come after them.
There was no way for this situation to be resolved that did not require violence. She would lose crew here, and there was nothing to be done for that.
So she tensed, preparing to make her move. And she could sense Malcolm was ready as well.
When one of the men suddenly laughed out loud.
"J'Mar!" He said, suddenly excited. "Hey, look! That's the British!"
He was pointing at Malcolm, with his knife. Grinning widely.
The leader frowned over her shoulder…and likewise suddenly adopted a surprised and very pleased expression.
"Yeah, hey! You're the British!" He said, to Malcolm.
Who could only cast about among the suddenly excited and happy men murmuring among themselves about him.
Malcolm, T'Pol was quite certain…had never been to Risa before. These men couldn't possibly know him.