CHAPTER TWENTYEIGHT
Deep Space K-7 was a fairly large space station, much larger than it had started out. It now consisted of a center hub, with five arms branching off. Looking down from above it, or, above the section most commonly treated as the upper deck, it resembled the Star of Sherman. The star was Sherman’s adopted symbol which vaguely resembled a star, or better, if you were in touch with the days of the American old west, of Earth, it resembled a Sheriff’s badge. Each of the end points of the star flared out into a reasonable sized sphere, allowing multiple ships to dock on each branch. The Pa Nun was connected to one of these arms at a right angle. This was not unusual for a ship to connect this way, but very often when this happened certain people would experience vertigo as they made the cross over and readjusted to the ship’s own artificial gravity. The entry port leading to the Pa Nun was a hatch in the floor. A Person descending down the ladder into the Pa Nun would find themselves in the prone position on the floor. From there, you simply stood up, and tried not to look back into the station. Tammas wasn’t usually one of those people who suffered from vertigo, so he was surprised when he experienced a moment of dizziness as he stood, looking back up the bridge to the airlock in K7’s floor.
Tammas shrugged it off, squinting, wondering if he was ill or perhaps still suffering from the affects of using the Kelvan technology. Or perhaps he and Karsat had had way too much fun. Gowr appraised him, but Tammas felt confident that he had hid the vertigo well, so no one should suspect his weakness.
“Captain Glor is waiting for you on the Bridge,” Gowr said, gruffly. “Follow me.”
Tammas was surprised by how dark the ship was kept. There were shadows everywhere, and the lights that were used to illuminate the corridors were dim and red. A Klingon female stepped out of the shadow, nearly scaring him bad enough to jump. She smiled at him while handing Gowr a data PADD.
They made it to the Bridge in time to see the mooring lines clear. The Pa Nun eased away from the docking bridge that had made a seal around their forward hatch. It was retracting back into the station. As it moved further away, the Pa Nun began an easy slip over as it righted itself in the “Universal Up,” oriented towards Galactic North, as recognized by the Federation. It was now up right in relationship to DS K7. It turned slowly, and then accelerated away.
“And what coarse do I set, Human?" Captain Glor asked.
Tammas didn't know how to translate the course. It had been a dream symbol in the whirlwind of information hurled at him during the interface with the Kelvan technology. He casually looked at the navigation console and felt the urge to reach out and touch it. A ghost of someone seemed to be guiding him. Without touching anything, the console burst into activity, humming with sequence activations. Tammas reconstructed the event in his mind and his explanation for the event was that he had transmitted the codes via his neural implant.
The Klingons did not interpret the event in the same manner. One drew a knife and another drew a phaser as they assumed their human was obviously an elemental. Weapon or not, they all stood and prepared themselves for battle.
"How did you that, Human?" the Captain demanded.
"I have a guardian angel," Tammas jested, realizing suddenly that humor was not the wise thing to do at this particular juncture. All he wanted to do was get out of here. “I have a neural implant which allows me to interface with your ships systems through your wireless network.”
"I'll have no more of that witchery aboard my ship," Glor informed him. "State your name, Human."
The Human bit was getting old, but he was in no place to correct the Captain. After all, it was his ship, and he was hired to do a job, not to be civil. "Tammas Parkin Arblaster-Garcia."
"Welcome aboard, Human. I'll inform you when we've arrived at these coordinates," Captain Glor said. "Show him how to find his way to his quarters and the galley."
"luq lu', HoD," the officer answered.
"And the next one of you that speaks Klingon in front of our client will answer to me, is that understood?" Glor yelled.
It was very understood. Tammas was escorted to his quarters first, where he decided to take off his poncho, since he was feeling a bit warm. He hung it over a chair, and set his back pack on the floor next to it. Of course, after removing the poncho and back pack, he felt his utility belt was too awkward to be carrying around, as well as fashionably wrong in this new group. He took this off, thinking he wasn’t going to need any items off of it, such as the emergency medical kit. The Klingon guide was patient. After showing him how to use the lavatory and toilet, they proceeded to the galley.
"And this is where we eat," Jo' LaH said, leading Tammas into the galley. There were several officers Tammas had met earlier present and eating, but he still didn't know their names. "We ordered some nourishment that should be eatable, even for humans."
Tammas heard the revulsion in Jo' LaH's tone.
"I will eat what you eat," Tammas said. "I expect to be treated no differently than any of you, and hope you will advise me if I do something wrong."
He said this last bit loudly enough to be over heard by those eating.
"Very well. You will know when you do something wrong," Jo' LaH promised, directing Tammas to sit at the table. "Let's eat."
Tammas sat down, shutting off the part of his brain that was rebelling at the thought of eating Klingon food. Jo' LaH introduced him to the others that hadn’t been at the bar. He watched as Tajing, N 'elent, and Jo' LaH helped themselves to a portion of the communal bowl. They merely grunted as they continued their meal. Tammas forced himself to follow suit, digging in to the mass of living food. He chose not to look at the food, hoping it would go down easier that way. Instead, he locked eyes with N 'elent who was watching him with more than a curious eye. She had the face only a Klingon could love, with a jagged tooth smile. The upper part of her armor accentuated her feminine attributes, in a strange Nordic sort of way. Enormous, out of proportion to the rest of her body, attributes.
"Be certain that you chew until they stop moving," Tajing said. "Or they'll eat you from the inside out."
Tam's eyes grew a little in anticipation and the three Klingons at his table burst out laughing. Tammas didn't join them in their laughter. He was too busy chewing, as well as refraining from retching. Once he got past the movement, and the taste, and the actual swallowing, it wasn't so bad. He smiled at their joke, and, feeling a bit of debris stuck between his teeth, he worked it free with his tongue and then put more in his mouth. As he chewed, he pretended he was enjoying it, and doubly hoped it was indeed a joke Tajing had made. Surely nothing would get past the stomach acid alive. They poured him a drink and set it before him. His bowl cleaned, he reached for a second helping from the communal bowl, taking a larger portion now that he knew he could tolerate it well enough. Jo' LaH laughed, and hit Tammas on the arm, nearly knocking him from his seat.
"I'll make a Klingon of you yet," Jo' LaH said.
"Or I will," N' elent offered.
Again the Klingons laughed. Tammas smiled. He heard a voice in his head say: "What the devil have you gotten yourself into, now?”
Tammas was just beginning to fool himself into believing they were all warming up to him when Gowr entered and sat opposite of him, pushing himself between Tajing and N' elent. He glowered at Tammas and took a handful from the communal bowl. Tammas wondered how he could end the hostilities between the two of them. Offering a truce would be as insulting to Gowr as offering a dual would be deadly. Showing any signs of weakness would also be dangerous. Tammas matched Gowr stare for stare, and continued to eat. He and Gowr both reached for their drink at the same time, and drank as if on cue, both looking over their cups at the other. They held their cups suspended in air for a moment, and then slammed them down simultaneously.
"You mock me, Human," Gowr challenged.
Tammas stood, leaning on the table and pushing his chair, slash stool, back. "I would rather fight beside you than with you, Gowr. Your choice."
The other three Klingons took their drinks and bowls and moved out of the way. Apparently, Tammas had just opened himself up for his first lesson in Klingon etiquette. When it comes to fighting and Klingons, never let it be “their choice,” or, at least, back away from the table when you say it. The words were no sooner out of his mouth than the lesson was learned. Gowr reached over, picked Tammas up, and tossed him to the far bulkhead. Tammas had just found his legs when Gowr was suddenly on top of him. The pain forced Tammas into an altered state, adrenaline boosted his system, and he fought back hard, bringing his knee up into Gowr's groin. The tactic would have crippled any human male, but it had only given Tammas room to extricate himself from Gowr's hold. That, and it pissed Gowr off royally. Gowr recovered too quickly, and threw a clenched fist at Tam's face. Time seemed to stop, and Tammas reached up and blocked the on coming blow, not with real strength, but with some sort of force he had never acknowledged having before. It had to have been one of the gifts, either from one of his subconscious telepathic connections, or maybe a residue of the Kelvan technology. He twisted, and pulled and tumbled Gowr over his shoulder, landing him flat on his back.
Tammas tried the foot to the neck again, but Gowr caught his foot and pushed. Tammas did a somersault in the air, one of his specialties that he had trained years on a holodeck to perfect. It was an entertainment move. It looked good in video. Only, it didn’t look good this time because he landed flat on his back instead of on his feet.
Gowr recovered first, jumping and landing hard on Tammas, practically crushing him. Gowr got two blows in to Tam's head, before Tammas decided to use his head as a weapon instead of a defensive block. Tammas slammed his forehead into Gowr's nose. Gowr rolled, and Tammas followed at first, and then twisted away just barely avoiding a fist to his face as Gowr followed him, coming up on his knees and reaching. Tammas came up standing by the table, grabbed a tray and slammed it into Gowr's head. Gowr fell, and Tammas retreated, hoping that that was that. It wasn't. Tammas had chosen the first weapon: the tray, escalating the fight. Gowr pulled out his blade. Tam’s second lesson was now learned.
Tam’s eyes focused on the blade and he blanked out for a moment. When he came to, he noticed the blade lodged neatly in the tray. The point of the blade was maybe a centimeter from his right eye. Tammas dropped the tray with the knife lodged in it. Gowr roared with rage and charged. Tammas ran at Gowr, only, at the last second, instead of tackling Gowr, he dived between Gowr's legs, and pulled at each ankle, causing Gowr to fly into the nearby table, breaking the table legs and collapsing it. The dinner scattered, crawling aimlessly on the walls and floor, basically where it landed it stuck and crawled off looking for its natural environment. Tammas hesitated, watching Gowr for movement. After a moment of nothing, Tammas forced himself to his feet, winded, and then went over to Gowr to check his vitals. Gowr had been faking. He elbowed Tammas in the gut. As Tammas went down to his knees, Gowr delivered another blow to Tam's face with the back of his fist. Tammas went down, flat on his back, his knees bent awkwardly. Gowr got his knife, extracting it from the tray, and crawled over to where Tammas lay.
Tammas managed to open his eyes and all he saw was the blade, maybe half an arm’s length away. He focused beyond that and his eyes locked with Gowr's. Gowr’s eyes were wild and opened wide. Gowr brought the knife down hard, diverting it at the last second, sparking it against the floor, and breaking the knife in two. Tammas didn't even blink.
"I will fight beside you, Tammas Garcia," Gowr said, spitting blood in Tam’s face. He stood, slowly. And then limped out of the galley.
Vile filled Tam's mouth, and he forced himself to swallow his lunch again, noticing the new taste, that of his own blood. And maybe Klingon blood, too. He hoped he had the strength to at least limp out, as Gowr had done. All he had to say was, "I am not Klingon," and the others would come to his aid. As soon as the fight had been concluded, the others had returned to the tables and resumed eating.
With some effort, Tammas managed to roll over. Some moments later, he was able to push himself up to his knees. There was a pool of blood on the floor. No doubt his own. He took hold of the table top and pulled himself to his feet. From there he staggered to the door. Others had come. Possibly to verify Gowr's report that there had been a fight with the Human. They seemed disappointed to have missed it all.
Tammas could see his quarters at the end of the hall, but doubted he could make it with out using the wall as support. The corridor seemed to stretch, and rotate, and again he fought his stomach. One step at a time, he coached himself. Just one step. After what seemed like hours, he found himself in front of his door, swaying with effort to stand. The door opened and he went inside. Two more steps and the door would close. Just two more steps... He heard the door close behind him. He could collapse now. But the bed was not far, he thought, altering course slightly, hoping to make it. If you could even call it a bed. An examination table was more comfortable than these Klingon beds. He took another step forward, and surrendered to gravity. The floor was comfortable enough, for now.
The Captain’s Yacht hadn’t taken the time to dock. Captain Janeway simply transported Shelby and Tuvok over to K7, while she arranged shuttle recovery for the Atlantis. It had been abandoned ten kilometers from the space station. She was tempted to simply leave it, but she knew if they left it here it would probably disappear for good, given the type of patrons that frequented the place. Her job was made easier by the fact that there was a Star Fleet Officer vacationing on K7. It took her a while to get him on line, but she got her message to him, and he agreed to take the shuttle back to the nearest Fleet base, when he was through with his recreation.
Tuvok reported in shortly after. “The station logs show that someone transported onto the station about two hours ago. This person did not go through customs. I suspect it was Garcia, for the time matches the shuttle’s record of an emergency beam out.”
“Did they search the station for an intruder?” Janeway asked.
“They claim so, but I am not impressed with their efficiency,” Tuvok reported.
“I understand,” Janeway said.
Meanwhile, Shelby was in the rougher section of the station, thinking this is where Mackenzie would go if he wanted to hire mercenary types. She couldn’t understand how there could be so much smoke in one section. Either the patrons were creating it faster than the air filters could take it out, or the air filters were simply not up to par with health codes. Or perhaps they had turned the air system off. In addition to smoke, the air was stale, and thick with the smells of assorted non human creatures, enough to make anyone’s eyes water. Of course, she liked the smoke least of all. The bio-odors she could forgive, but the obvious abuses to health being committed to self and others were less tolerable. The smoke gave her flashbacks to the final moments of the Chance.
Still, Shelby had a job to do. To make sure Garica wasn’t in the bar, she was going to have to walk from one side to the other and in between the tables. A hand reached out to pinch her and the patron immediately regretted his action. He lay on the floor with a broken arm. She continued on, unimpeded.
A waitress approached her. She was having a good day, and felt rather sociable. “Hey, I don’t suppose you could teach me that, could you?”
“Teach you what?” Shelby asked, continuing to scan the faces around her.
“What you just did,” she said, indicating the man with the broken arm that was being escorted out by his friends.
“I really don’t have the time,” Shelby said. “I’m looking for someone.”
“Oh,” the waitress said. “Well, there’s not much to choose from out of this lot, but to each their own.”
“No,” Shelby said. “I’m looking for someone specific. A human.”
“Oh, we don’t get many humans in here,” she said. “You’re only the second one today.”
“Tell me about him,” Shelby said. “Was he wearing a Star Fleet uniform?”
“No, he wasn’t that type,” the waitress said.
“What do you mean by that type?” Shelby said.
“Nothing personal, Star Fleet, but he just didn’t fit the profile,” the waitress said. “For starters, he talked to himself.”
“You mean, he was using a communicator?” Shelby asked.
“No, I think he was carrying on a full fledge conversation with someone who wasn’t there,” the waitress said. “Crazy as a loon. He actually went up to a Klingon and started a fight.”
“He started a fight with a Klingon?” Shelby repeated, wondering if they were indeed speaking of the same person.
“I told you he was crazy,” the waitress said.
“Do you know where he went?” Shelby asked.
The waitress snorted. “Yeah.”
Shelby waited to be filled in, and after a moment of no info, she prompted the waitress. “Tell me where he went?”
“What’s it to you? Are you this guy’s wife? Did he break the law?” the waitress asked.
“It’s important. He requires medical attention,” Shelby said.
“He left with Karsat, another waitress that works here. She seemed to think he was someone famous. I told her no one famous would ever come in here,” the waitress said. “She’s one of those girls that actually believes Kirk came in here once and started a fist fight with a whole squad of Klingon Honor guards.”
“Where did she take him?” Shelby interrupted her.
“Knowing Karsat, probably back to her place,” the waitress said, sneering.
“Where does she live?” Shelby asked, the level of frustration beginning to show.
“You know, I’m starting not to like you,” the waitress said. “She’s a fellow employee, I can’t just give out the addresses. But, you look like a smart kid, I suppose you know how to use the public registry. She’ll be the only Karsat on the station.”
Shelby turned and left. Once outside the bar, she found the nearest computer access and looked up Karsat. As soon as she had the information, she tapped her com. Badge. “Tuvok. Meet me at peer seven, section four. Room, seven three three. I’m on my way there now.”
“Understood,” Tuvok acknowledged her call.
It just so happened that Tuvok intercepted her at the Tubrolift and they rode up to peer seven together. He did not look pleased.
“The station’s security leaves a lot to be desired,” Tuvok said.
“Yeah, and there are flagrant health code violations,” Shelby said. “The waitress said he was talking to himself. Is this one of those symptoms of Pon Farr?”
“Symptoms vary from person to person, and situation to situation,” Tuvok said.
The lift opened and they proceeded down the corridor, checking numbers as they went. In order to keep pace with Tuvok, Shelby had to keep slowing down. This was not lost on Tuvok.
“Are you anxious?” Tuvok asked.
“I just want to make sure we get to him,” Shelby said.
Tuvok stopped. Shelby kept going, stopped, and came back. “What?” she asked.
He pointed to the door.
“Right,” Shelby said. She pounded on the door. “Open up. Star Fleet.”
Tuvok raised an eyebrow. “We don’t have authority here,” Tuvok pointed out.
“She might not know that,” Shelby said, pushing the button beside the door several times in a row.
“Who is she?” Tuvok asked.
“Some waitress flu-zee, I don’t know,” Shelby said, pounding the door.
“Just a moment,” came a response from a side speaker.
Shelby waited a moment and then pushed the button several more times.
The door slid open to reveal a young lady wearing only an over sized t-shirt. She yawned, covering her mouth. “I said just a moment. I was sleeping and I had to put something on.”
“Are you Karsat?” Shelby asked. “A waitress at Nilz bar?”
“Yeah,” she said, totally uninterested. She hummed a little song to herself as she pulled a self igniting cigarette from her pack beside the door.
“Is Tam here?” Shelby demanded, waving the smoke out of her face.
Karsat came full awake. One hand went to her hip, and the other to the door frame, as if she were preventing them from peering past her into her one room flat. The cigarette seemed like a dangerous weapon in the hands of a child, ashes falling to the floor. “Are you his wife?”
“No, I’m not his wife,” Shelby snapped. “Why is everyone asking me that?”
“Well, we know how protective human females are over their males,” Karsat said, blowing smoke rings above her head. “It’s usually just polite to ask before a fight ensues, so we at least know why we’re fighting.”
“I’m not here to fight you,” Shelby said.
“You sound rather adversarial to me,” Karsat pointed out.
Shelby sighed. “Look, we’re looking for Tammas Garcia, is he here?”
“No,” Karsat said.
“Was he here?” Tuvok asked, taking over for Shelby who seemed to be too busy dealing with her emotions. “We’re concerned about his health status.”
Karsat chuckled. “He seemed pretty healthy to me,” she said. “He’s the first human who I ever met who can out endure me.”
“Where did he go?” Shelby said, taking over for Tuvok who suddenly seemed unwilling to ask any further questions.
“Well, here’s the thing, I didn’t ask,” Karsat answered, blowing smoke.
“You didn’t ask?” Shelby was amazed. “You invite a perfectly, complete stranger over to your flat for who knows what, but you don’t ask where’s he going when he suddenly leaves?”
“First of all, though Tammas is indeed perfect, he is not a complete stranger,” Karsat argued. “I’ve been listening to his music since I was a kid. Second, I knew he had a time constraint before he came over, so I didn’t expect him to stay. And third, well, he is an adult and a rather busy one at that…”
“I’d say,” Shelby interrupted. “He didn’t give you a clue?”
Karsat sighed. “I do know he was leaving on a ship that was docked at airlock seven. Does that help you any?”
Shelby and Tuvok turned and headed down the corridor.
“His ship departed half an hour ago,” Karsat yelled after them.
Shelby and Tuvok stopped. Shelby’s head dropped. Tuvok tapped his communicator pin. “Tuvok to Janeway. Beam us out.”
“Hey, if you catch up to him, tell Tam…” Karsat called after them. But they were gone and didn’t hear the remainder of the message. Karsat closed her door, extinguished the cigarette in a tray, and went back to bed, singing a little song.
On the bridge of the Pa Nun, things were quiet. The crew worked, and Captain Glor stared out into space, his eyes drifting as if he might fall asleep. Though his ship was more orderly than most mercenary ships for hire, it was not the well disciplined ship one might find flying for the Klingon Empire. Glor was pushing the envelope in age and would soon have to face the reality that his authority would be challenged. He would be replaced, just like the Captain before him. Death was simply a fact of life. He preferred it that way, as opposed to retiring and becoming increasingly more dependant on others and technology to care for him. Sure, he could sit around telling war stories, but the kids these days would rather be off making their own stories, and most of those in the fiction played out through holographic games, than sit around listening to real live adventures.
"Captain," H'llot broke the silence. "We're being followed."
Captain Glor sat up suddenly and looked around, full alert. He felt his adrenalin levels rising as he enjoyed the thrill of a potential conflict. "Is the cloaking device engaged?" Glor asked.
"Affirmative, Captain." H'llot verified.
"Then it is chance," Glor said.
"It is too coincidental for chance," H'llot said, and wished he had phrased it differently.
Glor refrained from his usual rebuke and scratched his chin. "What type of ship?"
"Federation signature. I don’t recognize the class. It’s small," H'llot informed him. “It would be no match for us.”
"If it is chance, we will know soon enough," Glor said. "How far are we from the neutral zone?"
"Ten minutes away, Captain," H'llot said.
"Very good. Stray a little. If they follow us into the neutral zone, then we will know for certain it is not coincidence," Glor said.
"And if they do?"
"Then we will destroy them!" Glor practically sang.
"Aye, Captain," H'llot agreed.
"Five minutes to the neutral zone, Captain," Tuvok announced.
"Well, are we going to pursue?" Shelby asked.
"Shelby, bring us out of warp," Janeway ordered. Though she suspected she had leeway to go after Garcia, straying into the neutral zone at this time was not a wise thing to do. Just being this close was risking a Romulan encounter. "Vector us along the neutral zone. Tuvok, try raising the Enterprise and let her know where we are. Shelby, scan the area for any signs of ships or other activity."
“Captain?” Tuvok said. “Deep Space K7 just put out a distress signal. They’re being attacked.”
“Bring us around,” Janeway ordered. “Best speed back to K 7.”
Selar woke to the prodding of two young Vulcan girls. A third entered the room, carrying a tray with drinks on it. This last one was the eldest of the three. She sat down on the floor and began to pour tea in a ceremonial way.
Selar stood, bowed, and sat down on the floor. She had immediately recognized the eldest. Everyone on Vulcan knew her. She was Princess Simone, great grand daughter of T’Pau. It now seemed obvious to Selar why the Kelvan’s had kidnapped her. She was one of the strongest telepaths on Vulcan, with skills in telekinesis, healing, remote viewing, and, so some believed, the ability to predict the future. She would one day take over for T’Pau, carrier of T’Pau’s Katra, as T’Pau had done with her great grandmother and so on for as far back as there were written records. It was a line that could be traced back to the original Vulcan colonist that had settled on Vulcan. Simone’s loss to the community had been incredibly devastating since none of T’Pau’s other grand children where near as competent in the psionic arts as Simone. It would take decades to find a replacement, someone with talent that could be trained, and there was belief that T’Pau might not make it another decade. The loss of her line, both genetically speaking, as well as psychically would be tremendous.
"We're sorry for having woken you, but the Lord Emperor has demanded that we all be awake for the coming battle," Simone said. "He has access to more power if we're all awake. He will to succeed in conquering the Romulan Empire. I hear he has coordinated some diversionary attacks to be carried out on the Federation, to keep them from entering the fray before the appropriate time. I remember you. Selar, correct? I was witness to your second wedding."
"You honor me with your memory," Selar said. "How does our host tap our powers?"
"The bracelets," one of the others answered, simultaneously with the Princess. She was young, but she realized her mistake and looked down, an expression that demonstrated she recognized her own mistake. Simone continued, "Every new chosen increases his abilities exponentially. This wasn’t explained to you?"
"Not really," Selar said.
“It doesn’t matter,” Simone said, comforting the closest Vulcan child by touching her head. The girl had been born here eight months after her mother had been abducted. She was now four and half years old. “It matters not what we know, or what we do. We are unable to prevent what is happening. We can come and go within the confines of the compound, but we can not leave. Can you give me news about my grand mother?”
“T’Pau is well, as far as I know,” Selar said. “I’m afraid that your spouse died of a heart attack a week after you were abducted.”
“I know,” Simone said. “It is true for all the Vulcans present here. We were forced to severe the bonds to our mates and we watched helplessly as they died.”
“I have not experienced this,” Selar said.
Simone seemed genuinely surprised. “Leave us alone,” she instructed her associates. They departed so quickly a human observer might have thought they were scared for their lives. Simone leaned into Selar. “I must have your thoughts.”
To refuse the Princess this request, even in the best of situations, was tantamount to treason. For all intensive purposes, she was the living representative for T’Pau in this place, and would be considered the gove