Chapter 04 - "I am Klingon"
Bex comes face to face with her first Klingon since escaping Donatu V.
NOTE: *Spoilers* I crammed Bex into the prison scenes with Lorca and Ash, thus some extra dialogue and a new scene have been added, but almost everything else remains cannon (the Klingon BoP is upgraded to a 3 seater). I've also attempted to give Landry a more sensible death. *End Spoilers*
TIME: The following story happens during the episode Choose Your Pain
Four hours into a shuttle taxi, Bex and Lorca sit across from each other in utter silence. The two are alone, save for the pilot, but he isn't talking either. She remains clueless as to why she rides this passenger vessel and has no idea where it's headed. Her only instructions were to wash up and go to the shuttle bay. It could be another several hours of painful silence before they reach their destination, and she needs something to distract her from the dull pain of her concussion.
"Where are we going again?" she finally musters.
"Mm?" Lorca answers inattentive while staring out the window behind him. The blue of the stars paints his face, "Briefing."
"I wasn't aware I was included in on briefings."
She catches his attention, "You're coming with me so the new vice admiral can reinstate you into Starfleet."
"What?"
"You'll be training aboard the Discovery and will follow my timeline for completion."
"Our agreement was for me to provide Klingon intel, not sign my life away forever to a glorified space camp," Bex argues.
He chuckles and crosses his arms, "You still think you have some kind of choice in the matter? You're a criminal, and I won't have you impersonating an officer if you can't even follow basic protocol."
"Are you sure you're not the one impersonating an officer because you're unlike any Starfleet captain I've ever met."
The pilot clears his throat and Lorca's expression drops. He licks his lips and leans forward with an intensity on his face that Bex has yet to see, "You don't want to get too friendly with me. There are far more conscionable captains in Starfleet," he speaks in a low slow voice, "The Academy was too easy on you. You've spent too long with Charlie. He's turned you bratty. Recalcitrant, but I'll break you of that," he leans back in his seat and returns to looking out the window. Not another word passes between the two.
The USS Enterprise acts as the rendezvous point for Lorca's briefing. The Constitution-class Starship stands much larger than the Discovery and possesses far more morale on board. Bex waits half asleep outside the main boardroom. Her chair looks reupholstered and the metal walls surrounding it looked freshly polished. Potted plants carefully decorate the hall up to the large waiting room area. Each shrubbery has its own water replicator, artificial sun and climate control field. This is the flagship of Starfleet so even the plants are spoiled.
Bex checks the clock to confirm her wait now passes the two hour mark. If this is just another attempt by Lorca to waste the Marquida's time when she could be surveying her ship, then he truly is diabolical. She stands to her feet and paces the hall a little. The two officers playing guard outside the boardroom keep a close eye on her. She runs her fingers through the various shrubs and happens on a wall decorated with portraits of past Enterprise captains. A good 40 frames spanning about 200 years back hang neatly in a grid on the wall. Quick turnaround working this ship. She recognizes a couple of blondes.
Captain Charles Beauregard II, 2141-2177
Captain Charles Beauregard III, 2189-2232
"Spitting images of Charlie..." based on the number of wrinkles around their eyes, both of these captains look to have taken command of the ship and died at young ages, No wonder Charlie has such a complex. What a legacy, thinking about him makes Bex feel a little antsy, I'm wasting time, but what else can I do? The Marquis remains out of commission, Loralee has not made contact, there's no proof that she and Charlie even escaped. It could be months before the next step is in place. What else is there to do, but wait?
As she debates quietly with herself, she spots a familiar pair of black pointed ears exiting the boardroom. Vulcan Admiral Terral, whom she recognizes from her time at the Academy, makes no attempt to introduce himself. He simply nods his head once and briskly returns to his ship with the escort of one of the officers guarding the doorway.
If he's not reinstating me, who is?
"Bex," the remaining officer calls and gestures towards the boardroom door, "The Vice Admiral will speak with you now."
"Cut the crap Gabriel..." snaps a slightly familiar sounding voice as Bex enters the main boardroom, lights low. Lorca's annoyed face greets her while his fingers fiddle with some kind of medical pen. An older woman sits across the table with her back to the door, but there's no mistaking that long gray bob.
Cornwell!, Bex's heart sinks.
The Enterprise grande dame turns around in her seat and grins politely, "I know," she rises, "I'm the last person you expected to see," Cornwell holds out her hand for a shake which Bex accepts with slight hesitation, "Don't take it out on Gabriel. It was my idea to bring you here," she gestures to Lorca and takes a deep breath, "We never got a chance to talk after the Invocation. I wanted to apologize to you personally and give you my condolences on how the Donatu V situation was handled. It was unfortunate, a blight on Starfleet's record and an oversight I mean to correct with my career as Vice Admiral."
Bex remains silent, jaws clenched and back arched. She does not roll her eyes or make any banter. She just stares. It's difficult for her to take in the Admiral's words.
She's very eloquent... the defector worries.
"I feel the way in which Starfleet has handled your situation has influenced a lot of the choices you've made these past months. Choices... that I am willing to forgive," Cornwell replies with a bit of indecision, snagging Lorca's interest. The Admiral's eyes glint, "Your introduction into Starfleet-into this era was unpleasant and unfair. They both deserve a second chance, as do you," she presents a copper cadet badge, "I can't bring your comrades back, but I maybe I can bring you back."
Bex slowly accepts the offering, allowing the weight of the badge to rest heavy on her fingers. Interestingly, she bears no ill will towards the bulky trinket and instead feels the swelling sensation of nostalgia, "You really are letting me back."
"Consider this a clean slate, pending your graduation, of course. You don't have to make a decision now. Think about it," Cornwell smiles sweetly then turns to Lorca, "In the meantime, take care of her, Gabriel. She is a national treasure, after all."
Lorca smiles sarcastically, "21st Century Human."
"How's my ship doing, by the way?" the subject changes.
"Might be a few more weeks for repairs. Marquida did a number on her. That multi-warp drive has been a pill to fix," he answers indifferently but gives the Bex all the information she needs.
"I want it back. Not a scratch."
"Thanks," Bex replies informally and closes her fist around the badge, "I mean-Thank you, Admiral," she catches herself and forces a smile.
"Don't worry. It'll come back to you," Cornwell seems very happy how this meeting has gone. She excuses Bex from the room and returns to a previous discussion with Lorca, "By the way, there's something I didn't bring up, lest you think I was piling on. The matter of Michael Burnham."
"No, no, no. Starfleet regulation 139-82 allows you to conscript virtually anyone in time of war. And so I have."
"Yes. Twice! A deserter is one thing. This organization's only convicted mutineer is viewed by many, justifiably or not, as the cause of our conflict with the Klingons..."
The doors shut behind Bex, blocking her from the rest of the conversation.
Meanwhile, back on the Discovery, the recent successful jump to Corvan 2, thanks to the newly discovered Tardigrade species, has the ship in bright spirits. Stamet's contribution to the war effort does not go unnoticed. Crewmen greet and congratulate him as he walks the halls. Nothing, too outrageous, just a simple head nod and smile, but it's enough to launch the Lieutenant's ego into orbit. He tries his best to hide his excitement with his typical killjoy attitude, but when he enters the cafeteria and is greeting by a round of applause, he loses almost all restraint.
"Oh! Thank you, thank you. Please! Ah! Return to thy meals," he takes a seat at a table by himself and strains to keep his cheeks from contorting into a toothy grin. He flips to a bookmark in his paperback copy of, Flatland by Edwin Abbott Abbott and pretends to read, but his mind flutters in thoughts of accomplishment.
THACK!
Detective Kuade drops down a tray of pancakes and joins him.
"UAH!" Stamets takes a moment to remember his name, "F-Friday?"
"Paaauly!," Kuade greets as if their old friends.
"Is there somewhere else you can sit?" the Science Officer's sunny disposition does an immediate 180.
"Oh, I tried sitting over by Burnham, but she chewed me out," he starts to cut into a pancake.
"And you think I'm not going to chew you out?"
"You know, she is the second female Michael I've ever met," Kuade ignores Stamets' obvious irritation, "I knew this couple, back in the day. Very religious. Fundamentalist Baptists. Ugh. Named their firstborn daughter, Micha. Beautiful name. Little did they know the meaning of the name; 'One who is like God'," he emphasis those words and Stamets can't help but think he's being accused of something. Kuade continues, "Oh! As you can imagine their horror when I brought this up at little Micha's baptism. How sacrilegious! They would be shunned from the congregation along with the rest of the drunks and hip swayers. Luckily, I was there to reconcile the situation and christened the girl, Michael," he shrugs, "My first suggestion was Frida-"
"What do you want?" Stamets says with big eyes and staccato words.
"I wanted to ask you about something..." the Detective pretends to be embarrassed, "I was just sorta wondering how old Boomer was doing?"
"Boomer?"
"Boomer. The-the big... Uh," he swipes his hands like claws and makes a growling noise.
"The Tardigrade?"
"Yes! How is he?"
"You call him, Boomer?"
"I think he looks a bit like a Boomer. Tardigrade is so hard on the teeth. What do you call him?"
"...the Ripper."
Kuade makes a wry face, "Too hard on the conscience. Can you tell me how Boomer's adjusting to his new chattel position here aboard the ship?" Kuade takes a bite of pancake.
Stamets huffs and folds he arms, "Why do you care?"
"I'm a bleeding heart," Kuade give puppy dog eyes.
"You're a weirdo!" Stamets sits uncomfortably glancing around the room to see if someone can rescue him, "And I-I don't know! I can't communicate with the creature. I can't ask how it's feeling."
"Ah, but aren't words such a truncated form of conversation? Plenty can still be understood through nonverbal-communication alone. For instance, right now, I can tell that you're completely full of yourself!"
"Excuse me!?"
"After years of failure and dead fungus, you've finally perfected your experimental S-drive, only it comes at a terrible morality cost."
Stamets opens his mouth to say something, but then stops a moment, "What are you getting at?"
"Boomer is a magnificent creature. A perfect tour de force of evolution. Able to survive anything this universe can throw at him; heat, cold, phasers, black holes," he holds his index finger up, "Except a Starship..."
"How do you know so much about this species?"
Kuade speaks earnestly "Simple observation. It doesn't take an exobiologist to see when a creature is in distress and your use of Boomer is rather undignified, don't you think?"
Stamets goes quiet and takes a couple of heated breaths, "Lieutenant Friday. I don't know what you're getting at, but I will not have a subordinate questioning my work. I am revoking your access to my lab. I'll find somebody else to fix that damned panel!" his chair squeals hard as he abruptly leaves the table, feeling embarrassed and insulted.
Lorca and Bex return to the transport shuttle, both dawning blue Starfleet uniforms. When the shuttle takes off for its four-hour long voyage back home, Bex checks her reflection in the window. She dawns a rankless cadet's uniform with copper metal pleating and details. Her heavy rectangular cadet badge pulls down on the fabric of her overcoat.
This thing is skin tight! she pivots her body and uses her reflection to loosen the stiff collar. Lorca's bright blue eyes reflect off the window next to hers as he watches her body language. He can read his new cadet like a book.
"How's it fit?" he senses her unhappiness. Perhaps, she feels like a traitor to the Marquida, "Looks good on you."
Bex frowns and returns seated forward.
"Not happy?" he asks.
"You kidding? I just got pardoned," she smirks. He says nothing in return and simply shakes his head to look away, but only for a moment. Without warning, the shuttle turns an alarming green and slams to a halt.
"Warning," the all familiar computer voice speaks up, "Incoming warp signature detected. Klingon class D7 battle cruiser identified. Tractor beam engaged," an annoying alarm sounds.
The pilot wastes not a second more and whips out of his flight deck. Lorca throws him a phaser rifle from off the weapons rack, but Bex cowers away from the opening hatch. Three Klingon soldiers force their way inside the craft and skewer the pilot through the chest with multiple daggers.
A Klingon in white easily disarms the Captain and shoves him by the throat up against the window, "Captain Lorca," she spits and takes him along with Bex as prisoners.
A mold covered cell door slides up and Lorca and Bex stumble through, their arms and shoulders bruised from rough handling. They ride on some kind of junker Klingon ship ill-equipped for war. The smell hits their noses first; stale sweat mixed with burnt embers. Everything looks brown and covered in half an inch of dried who knows what. Lorca strains his eyes to see and runs into another prisoner.
"Ouch!"
"Who are you?" the Captain grabs at his new cellmate.
"The name is Mudd. Harcourt Fenton Mudd. Harry for short. And I reiterate. Ouch!" replies a scruffy, balding man with a long brown coat and several rings on his fingers.
"Where are we?"
"On a resort off Antares Minor," he says with a big grin, "Try the spa. The hot-stone massage is delightful."
"Where are we?" Lorca reiterates.
"Typical Starfleet," Mudd frowns, "No fun at all. We are on a Klingon prison vessel. Particularly nasty one."
The Captain takes a step around the room and glances over to his new cadet who rubs her face, clearly in distress, "You okay?" he asks.
Bex smiles with effort, hands on hips, lungs burning, heart pounding 160 beats a minute, "I should've known being in Starfleet would eventually wind me up in here. Just didn't think it would happen within hours," she manages to maintain her composure despite fighting the urge to panic.
"Hmm?" Mudd fakes sympathy, "You're a cadet! Oh, you poor thing! I bet this was your first away mission, too. Oh-ho! Tragic! Is this the first time you've been captured by Klingons?"
She unclenches her jaw, "No."
"Really! Well, no wonder you look so calm. Most people don't take recapture so well. Your previous experience must've been more pleasant," Mudd tries to stir up trouble. He reminds the time traveler of her first introduction to Kuade. Unlike that meeting, however, where her new acquaintance's motives were unclear, Mudd's are transparent. He means to poison the well early.
"Donatu V is anything but pleasant," the Captain, a veteran in game theory, answers for Bex.
"Donatu!?" Mudd seems disgusted, "Why would you ever go to Donatu?"
"What's a civilian like you doing on a Klingon prison vessel?" Lorca changes the subject.
"The only crime I'm guilty of is loving too much," the eccentric man fawns, "It's true, captain. I fell for a woman far beyond my reach. Sweet Stella," he chuckles, "Her family didn't approve of me, so, I had no choice except to try and buy her father's respect. Scary, scary man. So, I borrowed a large sum from some non-traditional lenders, and gifted her with a moon. It worked like a charm. Until I fell behind in my payments. Hm. The creditors came after me. Chased me into enemy territory, right into the Klingons' arms, who deposited me here, where I await my fate," Mudd rambles, but neither Bex nor Lorca really pay attention.
Bex checks out the cell. It's piss yellow and made of reinforced, two-foot thick titanium steel. A large shelf hangs off on the wall to be used as a bunk, otherwise, prisoners have to take turns sleeping on the floor covered in dust, dried blood, and anti-proton particles. It's stuffy, hot. Everyone drapes their coats open while gasping for air in the high nitrogen atmosphere.
"...ooh..." a Starfleet officer groans in the corner. His face purple from being beaten. Lorca walks over to help him to his feet.
"Oh, I wouldn't bother with him, Captain," Mudd warns, "I believe the technical term for his condition is 'out to lunch,'" the cell door slides up, "Here comes the floor show..." the eccentric man replies uneasily raising his arms in surrender.
Two bony headed Klingons enter the smaller carries a disruptor rifle and the eight-foot tall blue goliath arms himself with only his muscle.
"CHOOSE. YOUR. PAIN." the behemoth barks in English, but like all Klingon's, his pronunciation is stilted and vulgar sounding. He looks at Mudd and Mudd looks at Lorca and Bex, and then points to the injured officer on the floor. The giant stomps over to the officer and pulls him to his feet only to punch him in the face and then throw him head first into a metal buttress. The ragdoll endures a few rib cracking kicks to the stomach before his face is finally crushed with the back of a heel.
The remaining prisoners recoil in horror at the sight of fresh blood. The sight causes Bex to drift towards the back of the cell to distance herself from witnessing the Klingons dragging the dead body unceremoniously down the hall.
"They may look stupid, our Klingon hosts. They're anything but," Mudd explains, his voice low and serious, "They regularly give us the choice to choose our pain. We can accept the beating ourselves, or pass it on to our cellmates. It's our captors' way of keeping us from bonding."
"You seem conspicuously free from bruises," Lorca makes a note.
"I've learned how to choose wisely. Don't judge. You're gonna wanna stick with me. I'm a survivor. Just like you," he points at the Captain, giving him a knowing look.
SCRAAASSSH!
The cell door opens wide again and the massive blue Klingon storms in directly towards Bex. He grabs her by the throat and yanks her out kicking and screaming. Mudd stands to the side, eyes wide and mouth agape, making no attempt to help. Lorca tries to step in, but the giant swats him against the wall with little effort.
When the door slams down and Lorca calls out through the barred window, "BEX? BEX!"
Kuade makes several attempts to enter the Engineering Testing Bay, but the computer keeps refusing his badge.
"Access denied."
"Access denied."
"Access denied."
"Damnit!" he grunts and heads back down the copper colored halls towards the main hull.
A boatswain whistle rings through the intercoms and Saru addresses the ship, "Attention crew. This is acting captain Saru. I have just been informed by our admiral that Captain Lorca has been captured by the Klingons while on route from the Enterprise. All officers to battle stations for mounted rescue," followed by a Yellow Alert.
The crew scrambles the halls, but Kuade continues at his normal unconcerned pace until he spots an exhausted looking Burnham.
"Michael!" he greets big making her instinctively sidestep.
"Lieutenant Friday..." she continues towards Engineering, her head buzzing with disquietude. The Ripper's health steadily deteriorates at an alarming rate after subsequent jumps with the S-Drive, but Burnham finds no sympathy amongst her crewmates. Against her better wishes, the weight of the situation displays painfully obvious on her normally emotionless face.
"You look a little under the weather," he joins in her walk, "Are you stressed?"
"Thank you for your concern, Lieutenant, but I am fine," she walks a little faster despite her muscles begging for sleep after fighting a long night of moral quandary.
"Ah yes. 'Fine', as in 'My personal ethics contradict my duties as an officer, but that's fiiiine!'"
Burnham stops and turns slowly to face Kuade, "I was not aware that counseling was under the umbrella of Operations."
"Just a concerned friend. You're obviously struggling to reconcile your conflicting emotions in regards to the welfare of the Tardigrade. He's not doing good, is he?"
"How do yo-There is no conflict. My priority is the life of the Captain and the security of this ship. Until Lorca is safely back on board the Discovery, the comfort of the Tardigrade comes second," she informs in a matter-of-fact, almost monotone tempo.
"Aw... that's the Vulcan in you talking. How do you feel about this?"
"My feelings play no part in this decision. Logically, the Captain comes first."
"You seem to be under the gun, although we are dealing with Klingons, so I understand your impatience. People tend to forget that Klingons, as barbaric as they are, follow a strict code of honor. They know a prize when they've captured one and a Starfleet captain will live longer than a civilian."
"Are you suggesting that we prolong the Captain's possible torture?"
"No! No.. I'm simply pointing out that our situation is not as dire we fear. There is time."
Burnham tenses her shoulders and contemplates having to possibly detain this mutinous officer, "Time for what exactly?"
"To save both the Captain and the Tardigrade."
She blinks and her expression relaxes.
Kuade continues, "If you're worried about my intentions, please understand, I am not a danger. I am a scientist. An intellectual. I, like you, know for a fact that a problem can have multiple solutions and one solution can solve multiple problems."
Burnham tilts her head in request for him to continue.
"This is not a trolley problem where you must choose one life over another, Ms. Burnham. Remove the train from the track," and he briskly leaves the scientist to her thoughts.
Bex's detainer pinches her arms tightly against her back while he escorts her to what looks like a Klingon version of a Captain's Ready Room. A large table with electronics and stones sits under a dim orange light. A Klingon female in white armor waits in the center of the room. An odd color choice for this species. The cream contrasts harshly against the dark green stripes along her severely elongated skull.
The detainer forces Bex to stand at attention while the Klingon woman makes a quick inspection of her prisoner. She pulls hard on Bex's hair to get a better look at her cranial scar and then aggressively pulls at her shirt to expose another, rather ugly looking gash across her stomach. The Klingon looks satisfied and then offers a seat.
"Sit. Sam. Bex."
Bex's breath waivers when the Klingon matriarch speaks her name. The detainer releases her arms and shoves her towards a stool, but she remains standing.
"SIT!" he roars and painfully forces her down unto the seat.
The Klingon woman then looks to her enforcer and nods for him to leave. Bex takes in as much of the Klingon face as she can, trying her best to decode how she knows her name and scars. This is the first time she's seen a Klingon up close since escaping Donatu V. Usually, her quick wit and charm can help ease out such a precarious situation, but her mind draws a blank.
"L'rell," the Klingon gestures to herself and stands to the other side of the table.
"H-how do you know m-my name?" Bex squeaks but receives no answer.
[How do you know my name?] asks again louder in broken Klingonese.
L'rell looks pleased that the human can speak, [Kol told me.]
Bex's breath hitches in her throat and all the muscles in her body tense up in at the sound of that name.
[Oh? You fear Kol.]
[I-I hate Kol,] Bex answers bluntly.
[Ah... So do I].
[You are not of House Kor?]
[No. I am of House Mo'Kai and acolyte of T'kuvma, The Unforgettable.]
The human shakes her head. The names sound unfamiliar and L'rell tries to hide her disappointment.
[Kol talks about Donatu V a lot. Says he found your human colony up in the mountains,] the Klingon matriarch begins to walk around the room casually, making sure to use simple words for her Klingonese challenged prisoner, [Says he killed you all. All 100 humans.]
[He lies.]
L'rell spins around interested.
[He only killed 9 of us,] Bex corrects.
A laugh escapes through the Klingon's wide pointed nose, [He is not honorable. Yet, the Great Houses choose to follow him and not T'Kuvma, because T'Kuvma spoke the truth and Kol speaks lies.]
Bex gets cocky, [He lies because he is weak.]
L'rell snaps her head around, [He is not that weak!] she snarls, [Kol is a fool, but he is strong. Strong enough to impress House D'Ghor. Strong enough to kill a 1000 more humans,] she pauses, "Strong enough to kill. Sam. Bex."
Shit. I've insulted her, Bex swallows hard as cold sweat beads down her face and neck. The door to the chamber slides open and two Klingon guards enter carrying four large trays of alien looking fruits and vegetables. They lay the trays on the table in front of the women and then stand guard on either side of the doorway.
L'rell takes a seat, [House Mo'Kai are spies,] she explains and stabs some kind of yellow, tendrilled vegetable with a naH-taj, [I lie, but not about my strength or accomplishments. You lie as well,] her eyes flicker up, [Lie about knowing Kol and Donatu. You are a Starfleet spy.]
[No.]
[YES!] the Klingon bearing her shark-like teeth. She calms and then tilts her head, [You look hungry, spy,] she reaches over and hands Bex her naH-taj, [Eat.]
Bex just stares and refuses to take the knife.
[EAT!] L'rell yells causing the metal trays to buzz. Bex jumps and quickly takes the blade making the guards behind her comfortable. She looks at the food on the table and recognizes almost everything. Fruit of Qo'Nos, brought and cultivated on Donatu V. All of it deadly to humans, save for one.
The Klingons watch as Bex studies the produce and picks a rather dull looking, fibrous orb from the middle. L'rell leans back intrigued with her selection. The fruit, Bex doesn't know the name, is cross between a coconut and a durian fruit. It comes equipped with about two inches of inedible, wood-like skin and mushy, foul smelly gray meat. The guards behind her quickly draw in a breath before she slices the naH-taj into the shell, releasing its noxious fumes of decaying flesh and diesel. L'rell blinks hard, and Bex grimaces as memories of life on Donatu flood her mind. She gingerly pulls apart the shell to expose the gooey, slightly opaque meat inside. She sets down the knife and dabs her two fingers in the horrible goo and brings it to her lips. Surprisingly, the flesh tastes quite sweet, like vanilla.
One of the guards begins to gag as the small fruit thickens the room with its aroma. Bex swallows and looks L'rell in the eye as proof of her knowledge of Donatu V. The Klingon matriarch says nothing.
KNOCK! KOCK!
Big blue knocks at the door, [He's ready.]
Acting captain Saru enters the Engineering Test Bay and Kuade stands outside, leaning against the adjoining wall, listening. Although the doors are thick, the Kelpien's pinched voice rings clearly through the metal.
He's going to be a problem... the eavesdropper assesses.
Saru attempts to get his crew, specifically Burnham, to heed his orders to prime the S-drive, but Kuade has planted his seeds thoroughly. The mutineer isn't budging and requests more time to spare the Tardigrade. The detective feels somewhat sorry for the gazelle-like alien. Saru's heart is in the right place and shows the capability of command, but this little tiff will cut his self-confidence deeply. Will he worry if the doubts of his crew are a product of his being a Kelpien; a fearful, paranoid race of prey? Or are they doubting him because he is in fact, NOT ready for command?
Kuade muses on these ideas while Burnham attempts to stand her ground.
"Saving this Tardigrade will neither bring back nor change the fact that this is exactly the kind of behavior that killed captain Georgiou!" Saru shouts through the walls.
"...damn," Kuade admits defeat.
The stick alien exits the Engineering bay making clicking sounds in anger with his threat ganglia in full salute. He takes a moment to calm himself and gingerly pat down his tendrils before he discloses his sensitive disposition to any more of the crew.
"Ahem... captain to Commander Landry," Saru address the Chief of Security Officer's communicator, "The Engineering team requires your assistance at once."
"Yes, captain," Landry responds.
Saru returns to the bridge, never noticing Kuade slipping pass the doors.
The detective quietly slinks into the corner shadows of the Testing Bay and bends down behind one of the standing station desks. No need to be too sneaky since the team bickers back and forth about 'how to do the right thing.' Kuade keeps his eyes fixed on Burnham, willing her to make the right choice.
She brings up an interesting point, "It's not like I haven't done it before. High Command can't sentence me to life in prison twice."
"Please keep your martyrdom out of this," Stamets looks trounced, "Nobody's asking you to commit mutiny again. The Tardigrade is capable of one more jump."
"Stamets is correct," Landry's loud voice cuts through the room when she promptly arrives in the bay, "There will be no mutiny aboard my ship," she confidently saunters down the steps, a charged phaser clearly hanging on her hip, "Why isn't the creature being prepared for jump?"
"Commander Landry, please listen," Burnham pleads, "I know you feel that the Tardigrade is nothing more than monster, but I believe it is peaceful and sentient. We cannot force it to comply."
"We wouldn't force a prisoner to do this," Tilly speaks up. Landry turns her head to glare in disapproval of the interruption and the cadet's cheeks turn almost as red as her hair.
"Let me explain this to you in simplified terms," Landry pivots her head back to Burnham, "The Captain has been in Klingon custody for over 12 hours. That is is more than enough time for a Ceti eel to burrow into his ear and wrap around his cerebral cortex. The pain will be excruciating leaving our Captain vulnerable to suggestion. Do you understand what that means?"
"Yes, but-"
"The Klingons must never learn about this ship's secrets. You are not just putting the life of our Captain at stake, but you are putting my life at stake, the lives of the crew, and the lives of the trillions who depended on the Federation during this war."
Burnham stammers speechless.
And I thought Saru was domineering, Kuade swallows.
"Prepare the Tardigrade," Landry demands in a slow calm voice.
"Energize," Stamets replies almost immediately.
The haggard and swollen creature beams inside the spore chamber and screeches when pierced through the back and chest with the Glenn probes. Kuade steps out from hiding and watches Boomer whimper weakly in exhaustion.
"Lieutenant Stamets, are you ready?" Saru checks in over the comm.
"Yes, Captain..." Stamets hesitates before entering in commands into the console. He looks up at Burnham with sympathy.
Landry tilts her in astonishment at his reluctance, "I never expected this kind of behavior from you, Lieutenant," she threatens more than states.
He takes in a sharp breath, plugs in his coordinates and the ship jumps. The Tardigrade wails as energy and mycelial information painfully force their way out of its quantum brain. It startles the stoic Landry a bit, this being her first time to see the S-drive in action. The Engineering team diffidently look away after becoming all too familiar with the display.
The probes eventually retract and the creature jerks violently before going limp.
"No!" Burnham jumps to the chamber and stabs her fingers into the panel.
"Warning. Failure to initiate spore-drive deactivation sequence. Spore chamber active. Density at 79 percent," the computer warns. Burnham attempts to force the chamber doors open faster. Kuade runs over and with almost impossible finger strength, slides the glass door sideways for her, spilling blue spores into the room.
The creature's indestructible shell looks softened and anemic. Its whole body the consistency of gelatin as it lays lifeless on the floor. The Chief of Security steps into the chamber first to determine if there is any danger. Her hand intuitively reaches for her phaser and awakens the Tardigrade who senses the threat.
"RRRRWWWWWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!" it rears up back to life and chomps down on Landry's shoulder, slashing its many arms wildly about. Kuade grabs Burnham by the waist and pulls her out of harm's way just as Boomer forces itself out of the chamber.
"Computer lights on now!" Burnham screams and the computer obeys, causing extreme pain to the photosensitive Tardigrade. It drops Landry before collapsing into a mushy heap beside her.
"Oh.. my..." everyone looks on in horror as liquid ooze spews out of its body, sloshing over the floors until the marvelous creature shrinks down to a fifth of its original size.
"Oooff!" Bex rolls across the dirty floor of the prison cell and the door slams down behind her.
"Oh. You're alive!" Mudd sits relaxed on the only bench in the cell. His coat lays beside him as he gently strokes some kind of red stick bug, "You don't look too bad. Did they even torture you?" and then he wrinkles his nose, "UGH! What's that smell."
Bex slowly stands to her feet while Mudd recoils in disgust. She looks around the room for Lorca, "Where's the Captain?"
"Gone," croaks a young human in the corner. A very young man, hardly in his mid-twenties, "They came and took him just a few minutes ago."
She looks towards the doorway worried. Sure, Lorca can be a bit abrasive and authoritarian, but that certainly doesn't qualify him for torture!
"You're from the Discovery?" the young man asks stepping into the light. His skin shines pale and marked red from repeated beatings. He's rather boyish, with floppy black hair and big dark eyes, "Lieutenant Ash Tyler. USS Yeager," he offers a clammy hand.
Bex takes it, hoping that the smell of Qo'Nos fruit doesn't rub off on him, "Samantha Bex."
"Shit, you just started," he takes notice of her shiny new badge, "I wish I had some food left, I'd offer some to you."
"I'm not hungry," she quickly answers, "L'rell. Uh, she has a funny way of interrogation."
"Is that what that smell is?" Mudd questions from across the room.
Tyler seems uncomfortable, "Y-you met her..."
"Yeah," Bex takes a seat along the wall and tries to wipe her hand off on her uniform, "She's... interesting."
"She is..." Tyler says weakly and sits on the floor next to Bex.
"You've been interrogated by her before?" she asks making his face grow paler.
"Lieutenant Tyler here happens to L'rell's favorite pet," Mudd blabs, lifting his eyebrows in a suggestive manner.
Bex is not a child. She knows what that means, "I.. I'm sorry."
Tyler shrugs tying not make a big deal of it, "At least I'm alive..."
"How long have you been here?"
"According to your captain, about seven months."
"Really?"
"How long was your first stay with the Klingons, Miss Bex?" Mudd inquires, trying to get more information out of her.
"...a little longer than that."
"Hm, and I've been here about ehh... a few months. Is Lorca the only one who hasn't enjoyed an extended stay at hotel Klingon? Hmm... Perhaps we should ask him why?" the plotting man attempts to cultivate doubt in his cellmates and then returns to stroking his bug.
"Don't worry. You'll get used to him," Tyler offers, "If he doesn't get you killed first."
"I'm used to eccentric personalities, just never this machinating."
SHREEE-THAACK!
The prison door slides open once again and Lorca blunders into the room. He rubs his bloodshot eyes, one hand outstretched before him reaching for something. There's dried blood on his chin and his uniform hangs torn. He locates Mudd and snags him by the collar.
"Now let's be adults, and use our words, please!" Mudd pleads as his pet bug jumps up his shoulder.
Lorca grabs the insect, "Stealing food was just a diversion," he forces the creature's wings back, "He's been transmitting everything we say to the enemy," and plucks off small metal gadget and smashes it on the ground, "When I first got here, I dropped a little conversational nugget to see if either of you could be trusted, and I just had my words parroted back at me by the Klingon captain," he winces once more at the pain in his eyes, "You've fed intel on every prisoner that passed through here," he throws the bug hard against the wall.
"SCREEEEEE!"
"AHH! No! Stuart! Stuart," Mudd cries collecting his tiny friend, "You almost killed him!"
"I know men like you. Throw anyone they can at the wolves. But you're finished," the Captain threatens, "And when it's time to choose our pain, we're choosing you, until there's nothing left."
Tyler returns to his feet and nods dutifully in agreement with Lorca. Bex can see that this young man makes friends impressively fast. Even Mudd fails to hide his surprise at Tyler's quick turnaround in loyalties.
"Captain, are you really gonna let this idealistic young man humiliate himself by siding with you? Hm? And what about your cadet? Have you no decency, Lorca? Actually, that was a trick question. I know you don't. We both know you lost that with your last command," Mudd turns to Bex, "This is just a tasting of the hell your captain will be putting you through. Unless you prefer cowardice."
"What's he talking about?" Tyler asks when Lorca loses his gruff composure.
"The tragic tale of the USS Buran," Mudd speaks for him, "It was ambushed about a month into the war. The Klingons boarded it and blasted it to smithereens. Only one crewman managed to escape. Gabriel Lorca," he bites down on the name, "Apparently, the honorable captain was too good to go down with his ship."
Tyler and Bex narrow their eyes with skepticism. Mudd may be a conniving liar, but the way Lorca's confidence slipped him so easily at the name Buran makes the two worry. The Captain studies his young cellmates; Bex, the new recruit, and Tyler, the optimal loyalist, both sheltered from recent Starfleet politics and both deserving of the truth. Despite how much it still hurts him to say aloud, it would be better heard from his mouth rather than Harcourt's.
"Mudd's only half right. We were ambushed, and I did escape. But I didn't let my crew die..." Lorca pauses a moment, "I blew them up... I knew what awaited them on Qo'noS. Degradation. Torture. Slow, public death. It's the Klingon way to spread terror... Not my crew... Not on my watch."
A chill in the air enters the stuffy cell and everyone unconsciously leans away from Lorca. Tyler looks slack-jawed and dispirited and Bex's lips grow thin as a hot pain begins to form her stomach.
Mudd tries to hide a smile, "Well, they say confession is good for the soul. Too bad none of us have one anymore."
"Cough! C-Cough! Coff!" Bex coughs from deep within her diaphragm, but it's not the hot ash from phased bodies tickling her throat.
"Ohhh?" Mudd looks at her curiously when she wipes a bit of dribble from her lip, "They did do something to you."
Cadet Tilly transports Landry to sickbay leaving Burnham, Stamets, and Kuade to stare at the shriveled cryptid on the floor. Burnham bends down and gently presses her hand against its shell. Ice cold, not even a hint of life present. Her tricorder trills as she begins scanning, checking every possible reading her device can pick up. Stamets looks away, arms crossed, heel tapping not from impatience, but from the struggle to confront his culpability.
Kuade subtly shakes his head at the disgrace before him, "I'm sorry old friend..." he whispers to Boomer, "I tried."
Burnham frantically waves her tricorder wand around the creature, but can't find anything remotely suggesting life.
"He's alive. Don't worry, Michael," Kuade consoles.
"Who are you?" Stamets snaps, "Why do you insist on interfering?"
Kuade doesn't look up, but tightens his lips and heaves, "You humans..."
Burnham stops her scanning and raises her head.
"You may be a warp 1 capable race, but your behavior and understanding of this world have hardly improved since the days of the homoerectus. A Klingon would know better than to use such a preternatural creature as common cattle. That is why I interfere, Lieutenant; to keep your idiot species from blundering about the whole universe."
The two officers just stare at Kuade in disbelief and he quietly retires from the Engineering room lest he reveals any more secrets.
The cell door opens for the last time. The prisoners make note of the recent shift change. The jolly blue giant appears to be on break and his replacement, a shorter grayish Klingon, must compensate for his smaller muscle with a very long disruptor rifle.
"Choose! Your! Pain!" he screeches at Lorca.
"Choose me, captain," Tyler mumbles with determination in his eyes. How quickly the Captain earned the young man's loyalty despite the harrowing confession. Though, disparity after months of watching Mudd slowly kill off his crewmates might be Tyler's true inspiration.
"I fully support that idea," Mudd points with his hands up.
"You'd do this for me," the young man reassures, "Choose me."
Lorca stares at the young officer in astonishment and then shifts his eyes to Bex who nods, standing ready for action.
"Choose! Your! Pain!" the Klingon screeches again and Lorca gestures his head towards Tyler.
"Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you!" Mudd backs away relieved, "Thank you, thank you, thank you."
The gray Klingon smashes his rifle into Tyler's face and pushes him to the ground, but the young stud recovers and begins tosses his own punches. The Captain uses the distraction to attack the other guard, taking his disruptor rifle and using it as leverage to break the alien's thick neck. Tyler manages to snap his the other Klingon's neck with just muscle alone, but the fight leaves the young man painfully winded.
The two heavy bodies clunk onto the floor. Lorca removes both of their rifles and tosses one to the woosey Tyler. Bex picks up the only option; a small four-pronged dagger hanging off the gray guards' thigh.
"Where the hell did that come from?" Mudd says amazed.
"Getting out was always a two-man job," Tyler informs the creep, "I just waited till I found the right man."
"You played me? Oh. Bravura, Mr. Tyler. I doff my cap," Mudd grabs his coat, "Now should we proceed to our Raider?"
The Captain shoves him back in the cell, "There is no we, Mudd. You sold us out. You stay," he motions to his cadet, "Bex. Let's go."
"You can't be serious!" Mudd's heart breaks.
"Oh, but I can," the Captain smashes the back end of his rifle against Mudd's jaw so that Bex can slip past.
"You can't do this!" Mudd sputters blood, "I can't take it in here anymore. Please. I promised Stella I would come home to her. Please! I promised. No. No. No," Mudd begs through the barred window, but the three quickly make their way down the corridor, "You can't walk away from me, Lorca. I'm coming for you. You hear? You haven't seen the last of Harcourt Fenton Mudd!" his voice echoes throughout the ship, alerting more guards.
Three Klingons rush down the corridor at the sound of Mudd's winging. Lorca and Tyler peak around the corner and aptly shoot the threat down. A fourth tries to flank, but Bex punches with her four-pronged dagger, bouncing the alien off a wall. He counter-swings, but she kicks him to the wall again. Lorca spins around and shoots the flanker, bursting the scaly creature into a puff of green smoke and disruptor burns. Bex accidentally inhales some of it causing her cough to return. Tyler tries to keep up with Lorca, but the Lieutenant's adrenaline and legs give out.
"Hey. Get up, soldier. Get up," Lorca grabs the Lieutenant by the sleeve to drag him while Bex trails behind.
"I'm... I'm slowing you down, sir..." Tyler whimpers.
"Go. All right, take cover," the Captain shoves both of his subordinates to the wall between to two bulking columns, "I'll find a way out and come back," he steals a glance down the hallway.
Bex tries to stifle a cough and shakes her head, Liar. I've heard this before. He's going to leave us.
The captain sees her animosity, "Hey, hey!" he grabs her by the collar and forces her to look at him in the face. His eyelids burn red with pain, "Look at me. I'm not going to leave you here! You're familiar with Klingon technology, yes? Can you read their language? Good. I need your help to fly us out of here. Understand?"
She nods and the Captain recharges his disruptor rifle before disappearing down the next corner. The hall turns silent and the two injured prisoners sit leaning against their corresponding columns, gasping for the little bit of oxygen left in the air.
Tap... tapp... Tap...
Tyler goes ghostly again when a familiar something approaches down the hall. Bex looks over her shoulder and glimpses the white of L'rell's armor. The Klingon coyly strolls down the corridor, flipping a dagger in her hand in an almost flirtatious manner, "Did you really think you could leave me?" she purrs with surprisingly good pronunciation, "After all we've been through."
The boyish soldier swallows hard and clumsily climbs to his feet.
"Wait..." Bex urges, reaching out to stop him.
He pushes her hands away and drops his rifle, "Yeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaggggg!" he releases all his rage and tackles his tortureress, knocking her to the ground. Her thick skin easily absorbs the blows of his fists as he hits her over and over again across the face.
Thut... thutt... Thu...
A familiar large Klingon detainer rounds the other end of the hall. Bex's feet react faster than her head and she stammers up to try and block the preoccupied Tyler from the blue colossus. She holds the small dagger out in front trying her damnedest to look intimidating while her eyes hunt for the disruptor rifle. She spots it almost ten feet down the hall.
Shit! she panics, I have to stall him...
A quick backward dodge roll to the right and she can secure the weapon, but a different, yet equally stupid idea comes to mind. She places the dagger behind her back, makes a fist with her other hand to cover her heart and bows.
"AAGH!" the Klingon storms forward in offense, [You dare curtsey to me you disfigured abomination! You are worthless! Lower than even human.]
Bex smirks, [Oh? I am Klingon.]
PFFFFTHOOOOO!
A green bolt of fire bursts through giant's chest extinguishing the menace in a puff of anti-climatic green smoke. Bex steps out of Lorca's way as he aims down the hall.
"Tyler!" he signals to duck and shoots the Klingon woman on the side of her thick face. She shrieks in horror while her impenetrable skin begins to disintegrate into smoke.
The captain pulls the Lieutenant up off the floor, "I found the docking bay. Get up. Let's go!" both he and Bex support the injured Tyler and limp down the hall.
A three-seat Klingon Bird of Prey sits idle in the docking bay. The helmsmen and copilot stations take the front of the shuttle and the weapons station sits in the back upper level. The transparent top and sides of the shuttle's hull point like bat wings and the inside shines dully in that same dirty yellow color.
Lorca straps in at weapons, "I need a map of the area," he requests and Bex begins frantically tapping through console menus in search of the correct Klingon glyphs. A map projection appears in front of Lorca and he scrolls through it while Tyler starts flipping engine switches.
"Our destination is the edge of Klingon space... bearing 20, mark 48. How do I control this thing?" Lorca asks fiddling with two joysticks on either side of his seat.
"Left stick is phaser cannon, right stick is lock on," Bex explains while she scours her memories Klingon hieroglyphs, "Err... Top button is overshoot. Hold down to charge."
"How fast can this thing go?" Tyler's voice sounds grave and strained.
"Warp..." Bex reads the console, "4."
"Go!" Lorca commands.
The escapees skip through the speckled dark red of space in their stolen vessel, but their ride is not peaceful. After only a few minutes, green torpedoes blow past the shuttle as Tyler proceeds with evasive maneuvers. Despite his injuries, he can rely on his second nature piloting reflexes.
"Redirect all auxiliary power to shields," Lorca requests calmly, but Bex starts having coughing fits again. The screen turns blurry while her eyelids squint from the burning in her throat.
"Blue panel on the right," Tyler jumps in for her.
"Hang in there, cadet! Five Raiders in pursuit. Closing fast," the Captain warns.
"Your eyes. That happened when you destroyed the Buran, didn't it?" Tyler inquires as he deftly dodges torpedoes.
"We choose our own pain. Mine helps me remember."
The five raiders begin to surround the shuttle like lionesses to a zebra. Two run out in front to slow the pack down while the others lock on with their cannons. A tiny gray dot on the horizon warps into view.
"Federation Starship Discovery to Klingon Raider," Saru hails the shuttle, "Identify yourself."
"Well, what do you know? The cavalry showed up. This is Captain Lorca. Three to beam out. Now."
"Lower your shields, Captain Lorca," Saru informs.
A thousand lightning bugs rush across everyone's skin and weightlessness fill their bodies like if falling through the air a hundred feet up. Instinctively, they all stand and prepare for the hard thud of landing on the transport platform.
THUD!
The too weak Tyler fails to catch himself and falls to his knees on the transporter stage. Lorca reaches out to him and pats him on the shoulder, "Captain to Bridge. You got us. Jump!" he addresses the comm system.
WRAANG! BLACK ALERT! WRAAANG!
Bex takes a haggard breath as the room continues to spin despite being in the correct atmosphere. That burning in her stomach grows worse and it raises the temperature all over her body.
"Easy, soldier. You're home," the Captain address Tyler.
"T-thank you, Captain," the Lieutenant cannot describe how grateful he feels to finally be back on a Starship and breathe a clean lung full of air.
"Thank you for what? Dragging you back into the war on a ship with a target on its back?" the Captain smiles lazily.
"There's no place I'd rather be."
"Bridge to Stamets," Lorca addresses the comm system again, "Congratulations, Lieutenant. Excellent work," but silence answers, "Lieutenant Stamets, do you copy?"
"Sir," a crewman checks his console, "Stamets is in Engineering, but it seems his life signs are in distress,"
"What? Get him to sickbay!"
THUDD-DUD
Bex trips a little when stepping off the transporter platform and doubles over as her stomach begins to cramp uncontrollably.
"Damnit," Lorca moves to brace her, "I'm taking the two of you to sickbay."
The Captain guides both Bex and Tyler to the medical wing of the ship, pushing firmly on their backs to steady them. The time traveler begins to act bothered by this and slows down forcing the Captain to push on her harder.
"I... I can't..." she mumbles, "No.. I can't!"
"Come on, cadet!" Lorca gets annoyed, "Doctor Culber!" he calls out, "I have two more for you!" Bex starts to slip past his reach so the Captain snatchers her hard by the arm.
Tyler enters sickbay first and Lorca informs Culber of the situation. Bex slowly twists her arm out of the Captain's grip and doubles back down the hall, moving very ungainly as the colors in her vision start to kaleidoscope.
"Bex? Bex!" Lorca shouts at her exasperated, "Where the hell are going? Get back here!"
She waves him off and uses the wall to support herself as her knees begin to lock and stiffen. She gets maybe a whole 15 feet down the hall before her stomach knots again, causing her to fold over in pain.
"Cough! C-COUGH!"
She exhales a massive lung of blood and spit.
"Shit! Doctor Culber!" the Captain runs up to Bex as crewmen back away from the blood-spattered floor. She feels a familiar hard tug when Lorca wraps her arm around his shoulders.
"I got another one here!" she can feel his throat vibrate as her ear presses up against his neck.
She attempts to push him off, "I... uhm.. fine!" but it is no use fighting with the lights cutting on and off. She slips in and out of consciousness and goes weightless again. Lorca hooks his arm under her knees and in one swift movement, pulls her up off the floor and carries her like a princess back into Sickbay.
When placed a bed in a very brightly lit room, Bex catches pieces of a conversation, "...think... poison... cough... blood... asphyxiation..." and then feels a sharp pain in her neck followed by the sound of a dull hiss.