Chapter 8
Seven, McCoy, and Lincoln were waiting for 347 and 201 when they emerged from the shower. Seven did not seem happy.
“I can explain everything, Master Neves,” 347 said.
“I doubt that,” Seven said. He was clearly beyond angry. “This timeline is darker and lewder than I can tolerate. Still, I intend to use that to our advantage. You have established a rapport with Tosharee. I need you to negotiate with her for one of her thralls, while McCoy and I go acquire Captain Pike.” “McCoy’s here?” 347 asked.
“Right here,” McCoy said.
“You’re McCoy?” 347 asked.
“I am McCoy,” McCoy said.
“The real McCoy?” 347 asked.
“I hate that joke,” McCoy said.
“The time line’s changed,” Seven said.
“Seriously?!” 347 asked. “Have genetics changed?”
“The genetics are the same, but nurture and environment changed, and so subtle differences in appearances can manifest as the individual responds to their internal and external worlds,” Seven explained.
“Are you even any good?” 347 asked. “I don’t know how to answer that,” McCoy said. “Well, let’s start with can you put Spock’s brain back in his body?” 347 asked.
“That’s why we need you to talk to Tosharee. Go get Kara. 201, you are with me. McCoy might need your assistance,” Seven said.
“She’s a nurse?” McCoy asked.
“I am empath,” 201 said.
“Really? I thought they were mute,” McCoy said.
“Keera and Jon are hybrids,” Seven said. “None of this is going to happen if we don’t hurry.”
“Why is Spock and Pike on the Discovery?” 347 asked.
“Don’t have time to explain,” Seven said, already leaving the room.
McCoy, Lincoln, and 201 followed. 201 blew him a kiss with a nice, meaningful wink. Lincoln at least shot him an apologetic look.
♫♪►
347 arrived outside of Master Tosharee’s alcove and was quickly met by thralls that escorted him to where he needed to be. Tosharee did not hide her surprise at his presence, but welcomed him warmly, even inviting him to her quarters and offering him a place at her table. 347 took a seat. Tosharee’s servants smiled pleasantly as they brought refreshments, clearly eager to please.
“You have become a bit of celebrity, very quickly,” Tosharee said. “Tell me you came for another round.”
“You are my senior, Tosharee. I will always endeavor to serve you,” 347 said, humbly.
She bowed, accepting his display of affection as genuine. “But you are not here for that,” Tosharee said.
“I am not,” 347 said. “My provider is interested in purchasing one of your thralls.”
“My provider has never shown interest in selling or trading,” Tosharee said. “You know that, but you came here anyway?”
“You have influence,” 347 said. “You have served your provider well, and you have her ear.”
“Walk with me,” Tosharee said, standing.
347 stood and accepted her arm when she took it. “I am a Master Thrall. I have served almost as long as Neves. I have three Masters serving under me…”
“A triad of masters,” 347 said.
“The Providers are fond of threes,” Tosharee said. “My provider is actually a triad, three females. They are very old. They are very loved by the other Providers.” “And, they are very sentimental about their acquisitions,” 347 said.
“They are,” Tosharee said.
They emerged out into an arena, one that bordered on three complexes, where four master thralls, including Tosharee, raised and trained the thralls in their care. They emerged on a scene where a female was being punished with a whip. Discovery crew was being forced to watch, two of them on their knees as their collars were inflicting warning ‘pains.’ 347 pulled free from Tosharee’s arm and went straight to the woman. He took the brunt of the next strike as he blocked. The Master was shocked.
“How dare you interfere with my discipline?!” Teel asked.
“Enough,” 347 said.
“Master?!” Teel said, appealing to Tosharee.
“You are liked, Harister, but you have no authority here. He has the right to punish you as well,” Tosharee said.
“I accept. Punish me, but don’t harm this person further,” 347 said.
“I cannot tolerate her feigning stupidity to avoid compliance,” Teel said. “She’s not pretending!” 347 said.
“When she arrived, she showed sufficient sophistication that she beat four opponents,” Tosharee said.
347 turned to Kara. She was looking to him, trying to understand. When he offered her a hand, she took it and he pulled her to her feet. He pulled her away from Teel, towards the center of the room.
“Look at her!” 347 pleaded to the Providers. “No! Seriously. Look at her. Look deep within her and see! I am not Kirk! This is not the speech you’re supposed to get! You and Kara here share a common ancestor! You are the same species, but you’ve forgotten! Follow her ship back to her colony world. You will see the same people. They use disembodied brains to fly their ships, to run their technology. That’s you! They use collars to control their males. Okay, not collars. They’re using belts, but it’s the same technology! You call yourselves Providers! But what are you providing? Training? For what? Your pleasure? No! You were intended to provide for colonies, for people, to make a better future! Does this look like a better future to you? You have lost your way.” He turned to Teel. “She is not pretending. She came here with knowledge downloaded into her short term memory. The moment she went to sleep, much of that would have been erased. If you want that stuff in your long term memory, you got to earn it. This is you. This is us. Let me show you a different way.”
A female voice answered. “Though you appeal to the younger providers, we are not amused by your games.” “I have more to offer than that,” 347 said.
“This thrall has been marked for termination,” another Provider said. “You interfered and accepted her punishment. Give us a reason we should intervene in this path you have chosen. Demonstrate a better way to train.”
“Fine. I can do this in under four minutes from when I say go,” 347 said.
“This is not a bet,” the Provider said.
“Make it a bet! If I get and hold ten percent of the membership, my Provider takes ownership of Kara, and I supervise her training,” 347 said.
“Seventy five percent,” another Provider chimed in. “And you forfeit your companion’s winnings to us.”
“Ok to the caveat, and fifteen percent,” 347 argued.
“Fifty percent,” still another chimed in.
“Twenty percent,” 347 pleaded.
“Hold twenty five percent, and we will agree to this path,” the three Providers spoke. “No further bidding. Proceed.”
347 sighed. He took Kara’s hand and led her to the center of the floor. He drew closer to her, holding her hands. If anyone noticed her wounds healing at a rapid rate no one said anything. Her world perspective narrowed to only include 347. If she had managed to look down at his hands, she might have seen her wounds appearing on him, before fading. Her eyes couldn’t look away from his eyes.
“Why are you helping me?” Kara asked.
“Because it’s the right thing to do,” 347 said. “May I kiss you?” “You’ve done more than that already…” “May I, one last time?” 347 asked.
“You may,” Kara said.
347 kissed her. Kara accepted, eyes opened. Music started. Her eyes widened, surprise, and she surrendered fully to the kiss. She kissed back, eagerly. Her eyes closed.
The kiss ended and they separated, turning in unison, synchronizing their movement. They moved with the music. When he spoke, she spoke.
“Do it,” 347 said. “Do the hustle!”
347 and Kitara led, and as they moved, Discovery crew began to filter in. An impromptu line dance began. They spoke-sang in unison. Seven, Lincoln, McCoy, Pike, and 201 entered.
“Now that’s the real McCoy,” 201 said, and immediately rushed out and joined in.
“Does this happen everywhere you go?” Lincoln asked Seven.
“He is as irritating as Garcia,” Seven said.
“Are they related?” McCoy asked.
The song came to an end. 347 opened his eyes. He was surprised by how many people had joined him. Everyone wearing a biometric reader in the arena had joined him. Several without had joined, following along relatively well. He experienced a rush, his face flushing with embarrassment, but also happiness. He looked to the sky.
“This is a better pathway,” 347 said.
“You cheated,” one of the Providers said.
“It’s not called the hustle for nothing,” 347 said.
“He obtained and held 49 percent viewership,” another provider.
“He cheated,” another Provider iterated.
“There were no conditions on how I achieved the goals? Synchronization through tech or telepathy, this is a better way,” 347 said.
“Emotional transference is corrupting the membership…”
“You’re supposed to be influenced! This was the whole point of the exercise. I wanted to remind your there is love. There is dance. You have this in you! It’s written into the core of your being, in your DNA, and in your collective unconscious. It’s not all fighting all the time. Just watching us dance is supposed to influence you! It should make you want to be free and sing and join in. But yes, this is corruption in the sense that you can’t kill others if you empathize! You feel what we feel. You move as we move. You were entrained. You’ve been touched,” 347 said.
“If you do not keep the agreement, thralls will know you do not honor your word,” Seven said. “There will be discord. It will make maintaining the order more difficult.”
“We will honor this agreement, Master Neves. You may take ownership of Kara,” the Provider said.
Kara’s collar changed to reflect new ownership. Garcia directed her to go with Keera and go stand with Neves. He held his ground, knowingly. There would be a caveat. There was always a caveat.
The provider continued to speak: “347 still owes a debt for interfering with another Master’s discipline. He must fight in the tournament.”
“To the death,” the three said in unison.
“That’s not fair,” 201 said.
347 frowned at her. She knew better than to use the ‘fair’ card.
“Go,” 347 told Seven. “I’ll be alright.”
Seven nodded. His eyes flashed and before 201 could kiss 347 goodbye, Seven,
Pike, Lincoln, McCoy and she were away. Spock, holding his brain, was waiting on the Pathfinder. No sooner than they were on the bridge of the Pathfinder, Losira gave the word. There was evidence on her face she did not want to leave Garcia; they had been watching the line dance on the main screen and apparently were going to be able to watch the death match should they linger. They didn’t have time for that. McKnight executed a transwarp jump.
The Providers instructed that the ring be cleared, except for 347. Burnham touched his arm as she passed, a quiet thank you for helping her save Spock.
“This fight will be to the death,” the Provider said. “Free style. If you survive, you may continue to provide the service you introduced.”
“I have already explain, I am not a fighter,” 347 said. “Even if I were, I will not kill.”
“Then you will die, and we will be finished with your adulteration of our ways,” the Provider said. “Teel, chose your champion.” “Garcia, kill him,” Teel said.
Garcia didn’t move. Kitara shoved him into the arena. 347 found irony in the fact a character from his own fiction was going to kill him. Garcia approached, offering a handshake. 347 accepted, thinking, mighty good sportsmanship for a murder. He wondered if ‘murdered’ was technically the right word, as opposed to ‘capital punishment’ for noncompliance with the social regime. He also thought, ‘funny what you think about when the time to die approaches.’
“Where did you learn to make speeches like that?” Garcia asked.
“Channeling you,” 347 said.
“Nice,” Garcia said. He turned towards the sky. “I will not kill a man who doesn’t want to fight.”
“Then you will die, as well,” the Provider said. Kitara joined Garcia on the floor. “There is no honor killing a person who does not want to fight. Allow a champion to stand instead.”
“No! He has been given too many accommodations. The three of you will fight, or die,” the providers said. Thralls willing to fight entered the arena. Nine total opponents entered. Burnham and Georgiou went to enter the ring and were dropped with pain, grasping at their collars.
“Probably should have stayed on the side line, Kitara,” Garcia said.
“You’re Kitara?!” 347 asked.
“Different timeline,” Garcia said.
“This is really screwing with my head,” 347 said. “Yeah, you should try the view my perspective,” Garcia said.
Kitara smiled at her closest opponent. “You will die first,” she told the
Cardassian. She pointed to the big one on the other side of Garcia without looking at him.
“I will take you last, if you don’t run.”
“You got the big one,” Garcia said, pushing 347 towards the giant.
“Fuck me,” 347 said.
Garcia alone had fought more opponents at one time and more challenging one at that. Kitara was a better fighter than he, though part of that was because she wasn’t wasting time by calculating how to minimize injuries to leave opponents alive; she simply killed them and moved on. In any other arena, 347 would have loved watching their skill, but he was too busy avoiding the swing of a club. At 51, the only fighting skill he was proficient at was falling. He tumbled half as well. If there was tech available, he had advantage. And there was tech. As he fell, his hand touched the floor, activating one of the floor options. The entire inner circle begin to rotate; the inner three circles of the Triskelion pattern rotated independently in alternating directions and speeds. The giant had his feet on two different surfaces. The sudden spinning threw his balance off and his strike missed. It missed with a resounding sound on the floor, and he fell to his knee. 347 rolled away. And before he could get back on his feet another opponent was charging him due to proximity. He reached out with a hand and sparked her collar. It wasn’t a sustained collar inhibitor burst, but enough pain that she dropped her weapon and fell to her knees. He caught her as she fell, actually said, “Sorry, Shahna,” as he rendered her unconscious with a Vulcan nerve pinch.
“Cheating during combat,” Teel said. “Penalty has occurred.”
Garcia, Kitara, and 347 went to their knees in pain as their collars were lit up, for a more sustained burst than what 347 had used against Shahna. Those one the floor focused their attack on Kitara, as she was clearly the biggest threat. Kitara was stabbed several times, but even with her collar impeding her fight, she killed one of the thralls who was attacking her. The collars blinked off. Garcia got up to go help her, engaging the opponents that had ganged up on her. Kitara fell back to the floor, her blood pooling around her. 347 rushed to her aid. His knees touched her shoulders, and he cradled her head in his lap, stroking her hair back, making eye contact with her.
The lights flickered. 347 eyes flashed and he said, ‘it’s begun.’ All the collars on all the thralls fell off. There was the sound like thunder. It was not thunder. Triskelion was being bombed from orbit.
“Kill them!” Teel said.
“Protect her,” Garcia yelled at Discover. “At all cost, she must live!”
Burnham and Georgiou led the charge, and Discovery crew made a circle around Kitara and 347. Burnham and Georgiou turned to 347. They saw him bleeding, where he had not previously been injured.
“How?” Georgiou asked.
“He’s an empath,” Burnham said.
“Aren’t they supposed to be mute?” Georgiou asked. Someone broke through the line of Discovery and Georgiou killed him with a backwards punch, with hardly any effort. “Excuse me. Haven’t fought with Garcia in a while.” She went to go join the greater fight.
347 nearly went to sleep, but Burnham pushed him back up right.
“How can I help?”
“Reach in my bag,” 347 said. “Retrieve the dermal regenerator…”
Burnham took up the MASH mailbag hanging from his shoulder and found it empty, nothing but cloth. “It’s empty.” “Reach in, pull out what you need,” 347 said.
Kitara’s eyes looked up into his eyes. “You will do the ceremony? Send me to Sto-vo-kor?”
“No. You will not die today,” 347 said.
“Why? Why help me?” Kitara said.
“Because, it’s the right thing to do,” Burnham said. Burnham pulled out a tissue generator and a medical tricorder. She didn’t understand. She didn’t let herself think about it.
“Insufficient rationale. We are enemies,” Kitara said.
“I will always preserve you,” 347 said. “As you have preserved me. I carry your katra.”
The sound of a transporter signaled the arrival of more opponents. Klingons arrived and immediately fell into battle. Simultaneously with their arrival, transporter beams took hold of Burnham and other Discovery members.
“No!” she said, but was gone.
Garcia turned to see the Discovery people going away in waves. And then, he, too, was caught up. He arrived back on the Pathfinder.
“Put me back,” Garcia said.
“No,” Losira said.
“We are reasonably back on course,” Seven said. “You need to return to your place and time. You do not belong here. McKnight, engage the transwarp…”
“Belay that,” Garcia ordered. “I am in charge here, Seven.”
“We are being hailed,” Tuer announced. “Multiple channels. Discovery. The Klingon Emperor…”
“Emperor, on screen,” Garcia said.
The Emperor was huge, and draped in furs and spiked jewelry. “Which one of you is Garcia?”
“That would be me,” Garcia said.
“My daughter said you fight with honor,” the Emperor said. “That you know of our ways?”
“I am grateful for her words. I have much more to learn, your excellency,” Garcia said.
“I claim this world for the Empire. Your presence here requires I demand your allegiance, but because of the roll you and the other Federation ship played in preserving my daughter’s life, I will allow you both to depart. Linger, and I will demand your lives,” the Emperor. “These people, these brains that call themselves Providers,” Garcia began.
“Their petty games are over. They fight for the Empire, or die,” the Emperor said.
“Lower your shields, I will return one of yours. Our medical team can’t help him.”
“Do it,” Garcia said.
McKnight bit her lip, but lowered the shields.
347 arrived on the bridge. He was on his feet. Then he was falling. “You have five minutes to recover any last crew members, and then, we will engage you has hostiles. This is an active combat zone,” the Emperor said. He ended the transmission.
Losira and the Bridge medic were attending to 347, preparing to send him to Sickbay, as Garcia took the call from the Discovery. He was surprised.
“Captain Pike?” Garcia asked. “I don’t remember you commanding Discovery…” “Yeah, a black ops thing. Technically I am commanding two ships,” Pike said.
“Oh, don’t do that. Trust me, it’ll give you a head ache,” Garcia said.
“I already have one,” Pike said.
“Do you have all your crew?” Garcia asked.
“The last are beaming up now,” Pike said. “Come back to earth with us. Let’s talk.”
Seven and Losira both were saying no.
“You know I can’t,” Garcia said.
“We need you, your ship, your knowledge,” Pike said.
“The Klingon fleet is surrounding us,” Tuer announced.
“We’re going have to go,” Garcia said. “Want to bet we meet again?” “I’ve had enough gambling for a while. Thank you, and your friends,” Pike said. Spock came into the field of vision.
“Please, give my compliments to Doctor McCoy,” Spock said.
“Spock!” Garcia yelled.
Seven pointed his servo at the helm and they jumped. Garcia fell into the back of McKnight’s chair.
“No!” Garcia yelled.
They arrived back at the same solar system they had departed from, coming out of warp on the other side of the system as if they had not traveled anywhere else, other than through the eye of the needle.
“Take us back,” Garcia demanded of Seven.
“No,” Seven said.
“I could have made a difference!” Garcia said.
“You did,” Seven assured him.
“I could save Vulcan,” Garcia said.
“No, you can’t. That’s not your function,” Seven said.
“I don’t want to go down as the destroyer of worlds! Take me back, now,” Garcia demanded.
“How can I take you back when you’re already there?” Seven asked. “But even if you weren’t already there, even if you were never there, you have to trust, someone other than you, bigger than you, they got this.”
“McKnight, take us back,” Garcia ordered.
“I can’t, Sir. The coordinates have been wiped,” McKnight said.
“Sendak…”
“I can rebuild the formula, but without the precise variables, I cannot guarantee to return us to where we were,” Sendak said.
“Tammas,” Seven said, gently. “You can’t go back there. Ever.” “You can’t stop me,” Garcia said.
“Yes, I can. And I will,” Seven said. “I only have to say one word and every temporal agent in the Universe will be focused on you. There are agencies, whole civilizations, devoted to a particular universal outcome. You are not privy to everything.
Let this go.”
Garcia went to Tuer and demanded his phaser. Tuer surrendered it. Losira put herself between Garcia and Seven, wanting to protect her guest. She guessed wrong. Garcia put it to his own head.
“Like I said, you can’t stop me,” Garcia said. He pulled the trigger. The weapon didn’t discharge.
“Did you imagine I wouldn’t have predicted this? Do you think you’re the only one in the whole galaxy cycling?” Seven asked. “I have recalibrated your temporal piece. This is your new set point. You will not go back there. Further attempts will result in penalties.”
Garcia fumed. He tossed the phaser to Tuer’s station, locking eyes with Seven. If his gaze had been lasers, Seven would have been dead.
“I also have taken liberty to limit the presence of the guardian within you,” Seven said. “It will manifest at the appropriate place and time de