NX-01 Enterprise
Orion Prime orbit
Feb 18, 2155
Archer stood before the viewscreen where it depicted a rotund Orion male. The conversation had been going on for several minutes and had circled back to the Enterprise's business on Orion Prime more than once. The Orion was obviously a little skittish as to their intentions there.
"And what is your business again?" The man asked.
"We're simply seeking information on an ancient priestess named Aramea." Archer responded.
"To what end?"
"We have reason to believe she managed first contact with Vulcan many centuries before their official first contact with Orion." Archer explained, patiently. "Our historians are eager to verify this."
"That hardly seems a fitting mission for Earth's flagship." The Orion opined, dubiously.
"Well, we've managed to deal with every current threat facing Earth. That leaves us at the whims of Starfleet Command and the Extraterrestrial History Society."
"And you have no other business on Orion Prime?"
"None whatsoever. Although our crew wouldn't say no to a little shore leave. We have crewmen with rather eclectic tastes and we've been on high alert for longer than I can remember."
"We would certainly be willing and eager to accommodate your crew." The Orion said. "But we don't place the same importance on Orion history as you might assume. I fear there may be nothing for you to discover about this Aramea person."
"Well, it won't hurt to check and we have pure latinum to trade for this information. And, as I've said, shore leave is long overdue."
"You might be surprised to find you're not the first to arrive asking about this Aramea. A Vulcan ship joined us only yesterday."
"Just a little friendly competition between historical societies. Nothing to worry about. We don't mind if they verify Aramea's first contact before we do, so long as the Extraterrestrial History Society gets their confirmation."
"Then I suppose I should welcome you to Orion Prime. Please ensure that your crewmen stay out of trouble on the surface. This isn't the Orion Syndicate you'll be dealing with and our merchants and entertainment providers like things to go smoothly."
"You can rest assured we'll be on our best behavior."
"Now, let's not be too hasty. Our entertainment providers can match your eclectic human tastes quite handily. No need to be stuffy about things."
"Understood. So, you'll grant us a spot in the queue? We're eager to have a little fun after so many years of active duty."
"I'll coordinate with your communications officer."
"Very good. And thank you."
"No need to thank me, just be sure you leave with less latinum than you came with."
"I don't think that'll be a problem."
"Most excellent. And I'll give your communications officer details on how to contact our historian as well."
Getting a spot in the queue posed no problem, and the Enterprise's turn came up within the hour.
Unfortunately, orbit to surface transport was strictly limited to matter transports. There would be no shuttlepod rides. Archer was worried at first that few crewmen would avail themselves of shore leave in light of that, but he was pleasantly surprised that it didn't seem to deter too many people at all. This helped reinforce the notion that the Enterprise's business on Orion Prime was a casual affair.
Once the captain was ready, he chose Trip, T'Pol and Malcolm for his shore party. When their bodies were digitized into a matter stream and deposited at the forward greeting area, Archer found himself immediately accosted by dozens of hawkers and entertainers. It would seem the greeting area was big business, and he and his team were forced to cut a path through the crowd to the ground conveyance provision, assaulted by the sounds and smells of the Orion tourist industry along the way.
It would seem that haggling was another mainstay of the tourist industry, as the ground conveyance provider tried at first to gouge them to the tune of one hundred bars of latinum for a ride to the historians society headquarters. Archer talked him down to ten bars with just a little pressure and a threat to seek conveyance elsewhere but remained unsure whether he'd made a good deal.
The Orion historical society turned out to be nothing more than the private home of a singula historian. Indeed, it did seem that the Orions didn't place a premium on their historical archives.
They immediately ran into trouble there. The Vulcan First operatives were already on site, to the tune of six individuals whose demeanor made clear they weren't welcome. Archer played it off, not wishing to alarm the elderly historian.
Their host ushered them all eagerly into his cramped living room, its walls replete with bookcases overflowing with historical he offered tea and some kind of small biscuit. Archer and his team accepted this politely but the Vulcans turned him down flat.
"Now, I managed to dig up everything I had on this Aramea person." The historian began. "She was high priestess within the Church of the First Mother, rather a cultish organization that's existed among our people for centuries. It is said that she left the monastery in the Panqual system at the tender age of fifty-two to pursue first contact sorties with the Syndicate. Her first mission to assess the Vulcans as a potential slave resource didn't end well, as she was captured and imprisoned by a powerful Mind Lord among their people.
"She managed to spend the next few years rising in the ranks of the Mind Lord's harem, eventually making an undisclosed bid for her freedom. With the presence of the Mind Lords and their formidable psychic powers, the Vulcan people were ruled out as a potential slave resource and contact ended abruptly with her escape and report back to her superiors. It is said that she returned to the Panqual monastery and spent her final years studying there.
"That's all I have on her, but I would wager the Church of the First Mother has more detailed records of her service to both the Church and the Syndicate."
One of the Vulcans interjected before the historian could continue.
"And this Panqual system wouldn't happen to be a quinary system, would it?" He asked.
"I can't say." The historian offered, regrettably. "Astronomy isn't my strong suit and I have no records regarding the monastery there. You'll have to seek out the Church of the First Mother for that information."
"And where can they be found?" Archer asked.
"Well, the citadel-ship left the system a few days ago but there's a monastery beyond the Grand Mountains that should have all the information you need. They're sticklers for church history and I've availed myself of their knowledge on more than one occasion. You should find them quite helpful."
The Vulcans turned as one and left the home immediately, leaving the historian perplexed.
"Not much for decorum, these Vulcans." He said. "Would you like more tea?"
"Thank you, no." Archer offered. "You've been most hospitable. Thanks for making us feel welcome."
"The pleasure is all mine. I don't get many visitors these days. My people don't hold much interest in their own history, more's the pity. Everyone's involved with the Syndicate, to one degree or another. Profit rules the minds of our impressionable youth, not dusty old tomes."
Archer spent several more moments politely excusing himself and his team from the historian's company. He tried not to get swept up in competing with the Vulcan's for information and racing them to the monastery, but the pressure was there.
Outside, the driver once again tried to gouge them, citing the long distance he would have to travel. With no other option but to walk the many leagues to the monastery, Archer found himself paying an exorbitant fifty bars of latinum for the ride. The Vulcans were already gone.
The trip took an uncomfortably long time, many hours taking in the beautiful scenery the Grand Mountains provided and wondering just how far ahead the Vulcans were. On their eventual arrival they found the Vulcan's conveyance there and the Vulcans themselves nowhere in sight. Oddly enough, the Vulan's driver was nowhere in evidence either, something even Archer's driver pointed out was strange. Archer was forced to assume he had accompanied the Vulcans for whatever reason. At no point did he sense danger, however dangerous a situation they would soon find themselves in.
The monastery grounds were quiet and no one greeted them on their arrival. After waiting a polite minute or two, Archer was forced to lead his team into the monastery without an escort. There, in the inner courtyard, they found the Vulcan First agents seemingly at rest on the ground, scattered about the area. It took a moment to take note of the plasma burns and realize the Vulcans were quite clearly dead.
None of Archer's team were armed, not even Malcolm, as that had been expressly forbidden by the Orion representative.
Without a word needing to be spoken, the team turned on their heels to leave the monastery, immediately finding themselves face to face with four monastery laywomen armed with plasma pistols.
"State your business, quickly." One of the laywomen spoke.
"Just visiting." Archer said. "You seem to have had some trouble. We'll see ourselves out."
"You're not going anywhere."
"Whatever happened here is no business of ours. We'll just be on our way."
"Don't play the fool." The laywoman said. "You're here seeking information about Panqual. You've found your end instead. Women, do your duty."
Seizing the initiative had been drilled into the team during their long hours cross-training with the MACO. With only a nod by captain Archer, the team leapt forward to disarm the women and take them down quickly.
The laywomen were hardly trained combatants, having spent their years in quiet contemplation rather than hand to hand combat drills. Disarming them and taking them to the ground was child's play. In moments the team was armed and laywomen were not, sprawled instead on the ground, groaning in agony at vicious strikes to sensitive places.
"Now let's try this again." Archer said. "Tell us about priestess Aramea and the Panqual system."
"You'll get nothing from us." The lead laywoman said.
"I'm guessing the Panqual system is a quinary system."
The laywomen remained silent.
"I think we have what we came for." Malcolm said. "Best to make ourselves scarce before more of them show up."
"I think you're right." Archer said. "Back to the driver, double time."
The driver didn't fail to notice they were all suddenly armed with plasma pistols. He was able to put two and two together, arriving at the solution that trouble was afoot. But he was Orion to the core and wasted valuable time gouging them for a full hundred bars of latinum before agreeing to aid them in their escape.