by Leslie Lee
cart she’d padded with a blanket. She rolled the barely conscious Romulan into the tiny living quarters. Before leaving to search for the Romulan, she’d readied the medical equipment in the bathroom. Metal and rocks shielded the living quarters somewhat from The Drear Gyre’s strange radiation. Still, things would sometimes just refuse to work.
The Stars of Wisdom were with them. The little med unit warmed up without problems. She laid the Romulan down on the tiled floor. Her knife cut away the few rags still left on the female’s body. The bloodied cloak went into the shower. Persistent examination of the Romulan’s arm revealed a usable vein. A little water and antiseptic cleansed the spot. The Romulan caught her hand when she reached for a numbing agent.
“We can save that for when we really need it.”
The Human kept her face neutral. “No pain killers then?”
“I do not need them.”
The Human nodded and pressed the transfuser into the vein. The first time she’d used this primitive equipment, her hands had trembled so badly she was sure she’d rip the Romulan’s arm wide open. Now, she felt almost competent. Practice makes perfect. The sensor detected the type of blood needed, replicating the right mixture, then beginning the transfusion.
The color of the Romulan started to return a little. The bone knitter was next. But first, the Human had to set the compound fracture of her arm. A properly equipped hospital could do this in an instant. Painless. Sterile. A decent hospital didn’t exist anywhere in The DrearGyre. Probably not for light years around the nebula.
The Romulan looked at her as the Human readied the arm. The bone protruded through the skin, white and jagged. They both took a breath. Then with a shove she thrust the bone back into the arm. The little wet snick of the bones realigning made the Human’s uterus clench. The Romulan hardly made a sound. Her control was returning. She did not lose consciousness, though her eyes rolled up into her skull. Now the bone knitter could be used on a first pass. The Human guided the device over the break until the knitter said that was enough for now. The Romulan’s body had no other compound fractures. She moved the device over the fingers as she straightened them, then the ribs and her skull. Her body had more slight breaks but they could wait.
Next were the lacerations. And the bites. The Human switched to a healer. She struggled to master her emotions as she passed the healer over the wounds on the Romulan’s thighs and breasts. She rolled the Romulan over to heal the gashes on her buttocks and back. The cuts closed and the bleeding ceased. She turned her onto her back so she could access her front. She spread the female’s legs then bent her knees gently.
“What’s with the spines, I wonder,” she said, willing detachment into her voice.
“I believe it to be an evolutionary adaptation probably to ensure the female is not re-impregnated by another male.”
“Didn’t seem to stop them.”
“They only use it now when they want to inflict pain. The last one implanted them.”
The Human picked up a pair of pliers and again reached for the painkiller.
“No, we should seek to conserve our supplies.”
“Do you want a bullet to bite on?”
The Romulan raised an eyebrow. “What would biting a bullet do for me?”
“Yeah, you’d probably just bite it in half. So here, bite on this instead. It’ll protect your teeth.”
She went to place a belt between the Romulan’s jaws.
“Perhaps this is your idea of dinner?”
The Human almost smiled. “Bon appetit.”
The Romulan bit down.
Seven large spines impaled the vulva. She found five more smaller ones in the vaginal canal. Barbed. The healer whirred mending the tears and abrasions around her genitals. The Romulan released the belt with a gasp. The teeth marks cut the leather almost all the way through.
For now, the Human could do no more. The transfuser would decide which antibiotics to pump into her. Slowly, she cleaned the female with a little warm water. Her skin glowed almost the right color, a faint green, and she breathed more freely. The Human examined her face closely.
“You’re starting to warm up,” she said, placing her palm on the Romulan’s forehead. “How are you feeling?”
“Better, thank you.”
“Not too much pain?”
The Romulan shrugged.
The Human nodded. Then with great deliberation, slapped the Romulan across the face.
“Ouch!” the Romulan protested.
“You stupid bitch,” the Human muttered. “What would have happened if I hadn’t found you?”
“The same thing as when you did find me. You were watching.”
The Human resumed cleaning the filth from the Romulan’s jet black hair. Swelling hid the delicate angular features of the alien. The sponge moved along the dark eyebrows sweeping up her forehead. A small swab cleaned the dirt from her ears as she cradled the Romulan’s head in her lap. She kept the water a little warmer than comfortable since the Romulan felt so cold. Their favorite perfume scented the basin.
“And if they’d decided to just kill you? What then?” She bathed away all signs of the rapists, changing the water as necessary as they spoke. “I should’ve killed them right there and then.”
She swathed her in bandages and patches. With so much white on her, she looked like a mummy. The blood though stained the dressings green.
“I am glad you did not try. It was not safe.”
“Well if you recall the last time I tried to intervene, I ended up fighting it out with whoever those bastards were... Humans? Partial Humans? And you as well, Romulan. Hey, how much fun was that?”
“It will teach you to stay out of my business, Human.”
An alarm emitted a low ding from the outer room. The one they called the living room. The Human froze, staring where the noise had come from.
“Help me up,” the Romulan demanded, struggling to stand.
“You’re not strong enough.”
“Just do it.” The transfuser complained bitterly when she disconnected herself from it.
She helped the Romulan to stand covering her body with a blanket. They made their way to the console.
The Romulan eased herself down onto a chair then activated the controls. “It is probably just a false reading. You know this equipment hardly works.”
The Human snatched up her weapon.
“I’m not going to let them take you,” she said. Her breathing was too fast but she couldn’t slow it down. “I won’t let them.”
The Romulan caught her sleeve. “Shh. There is no need to shout. It is most probably like the last time. A ghost. A false alarm. It will turn out to be nothing.”
“It’s a cloaked ship.”
“Even if it is a ship, it might not be a cloaking vessel. Just like that Ferengi freighter, remember? Just a ship.”
“It might be Romulans.”
“Romulans are not the only ones who have ships that can cloak.” She grabbed the edge of the table and hoisted herself to her feet. Then drew the Human close to her. The Human trembled still. “If it is a vessel trying to become undetectable it is most probably a Klingon. They do not seem to comprehend the impossibility of hiding a ship in The DrearGyre with a cloak. More likely though, it is a false alarm. Now what are you going to do with this?” She pried the gun out of the Human’s hands. “Will you go outside and start shooting at the sky?”
The Human glared at the ceiling as if she could see through it and all the rock above it. “Maybe.”
“Come here. I am tired. Let us rest.”
She pulled the Human to the bed holding on to her, keeping the frightened woman against her.
“You’re still a little cold,” the Human said, her palm moving over the vertical bone constructs of the Romulan’s forehead. “Hurry, get under the covers.”
She pulled aside the blankets and carefully placed the female in the bed. The Romulan held out her arms to the Human. The Human hesitated, looking at the alarm
again, then quickly undressed. She wrapped her body around the shivering Romulan.
“They won’t stop searching for us will they?”
“I do not know nor care,” the Romulan murmured. “They cannot find us.”
“They won’t get you. Never.” She leaned over and kissed the Romulan on the mouth gently. The alien’s lips were cut and swollen. Both eyes were blackened.
“Hush now, darling, hush,” the Romulan murmured.
“Why do you keep going out like this, Vain?” She spilled her tears finally. “You will die.”
“I had a nightmare. I needed to free myself of it.” Vain tried to draw the warmth from the Human. The darkness was passing from her mind but still, she felt so cold.
“By getting people to kick the living crap out of you?”
“I have tortured, murdered, enslaved all of these people...”
“Not these people.”
“These species then. I am guilty.”
“You can’t make amends by offering yourself up as a punching bag. Just doesn’t work that way.”
Vain snugged herself against the warm Human. “I tortured you. Brainwashed you. Enslaved you. Killed, murdered your friends.” She stared into the Human’s almond shaped eyes. “I did terrible things to you, Seren. For a very long time.”
“You saved me,” said Seren.
“Correction, my beautiful Starfleet captain.” That finally elicited a smile from the Human. The murderous rage passed from her smooth brow. She stroked Seren’s long black hair and touched the silken, faintly tan skin. “You saved me. You should not be here. With me. You should be at your home. Turning me over to the Federation for interrogation.”
“We’re not going to have this conversation again, Vain,” Seren said gently kissing the Romulan’s swollen eyes to close them. “Starfleet would never trust someone who’s been in Romulan captivity for so long. You know that. My career is over.”
“You would be home. A lovely home. Not here in this hole where even Hell is afraid to come.”
“Sleep. And if you have any more nightmares, don’t go wandering off. Just wake me. That is what Humans do.”
“I am not Human,” she mumbled, finally letting exhaustion take her away.
“You’re getting there.”
“Please. Has my day not been arduous enough without you insulting me?”
Any plan with Hope as the first step, is no plan -- Tal Shiar maxim
Shrieking alarms jerked her out of her sleep. Red Alert! She stumbled out of bed trying to find her Starfleet uniform in the dark.
“Lights!” she yelled.
They blazed on blinding her. The ship shuddered suddenly. The sound of tearing metal ripped through her vessel. Had they hit something? Impossible. She’d just come off the night shift. There was nothing to hit. Just empty space. She was sure of it.
Her fingers refused to work right as she fumbled with the uniform. She stumbled as the power died. Then dim emergency lights flickered on. Boots, where were her damned boots! No time to braid her long black hair. She caught sight of how frightened her narrow face looked. Thinly arched black eyebrows and dark oval eyes made her look even more pale. She pushed away the sudden insane notion that she needed to wear makeup in an emergency. Maybe her charm bracelet would provide some luck. A senior officer would put her on report for wearing something nonstandard. She slipped it on her wrist.
“Intruder alert!” the computer suddenly blared. “Intruder alert! Intruder Alert!”
She scrambled hunting for her weapon. A phaser. She’d used it in practice a few times. Managed to hit something once too. She wished she’d practiced more. Her hands trembled as she checked the setting. She retrieved her tricorder as well. It beeped to life before she could mute it. Too loud. All her Starfleet training wanted to drain away from her. The alarms indicated hull breaches but didn’t say where. She didn’t hear the screech of escaping air so hopefully nothing had ruptured close by. No sound other than the alarms penetrated her quarters. The engines were offline. Who’d attack a science vessel in the middle of nowhere? The ship was tiny! Another explosion rocked the ship and the gravity lurched for a moment. Her stomach flipped and she retched. The slight hum of the air moving into her cabin made its presence known by suddenly stopping. Life support was down.
“Computer, status!” she shouted into her communicator badge. The computer didn’t answer and her console was dead.
“Bridge! This is Ensign Kari Wu!” She hit her communicator hard enough to bruise her chest. Still nothing.
Someone should have contacted her by now. If this was a “normal” disaster, she’d be making her way to her emergency station in case they needed to evacuate. This sounded like a battle. A fight. She wasn’t into fighting. And neither were most of this crew of scientists.
“This is Ensign Kari Wu to anyone. Please respond.”
The quaver in her voice made her sound like she was scared out of her wits. She hated that because it was true. The ship had phasers. Two to be exact. No torpedoes. Minimal shields. Maybe if another science vessel attacked them, they stood a chance. A battle between competing scientists. That would work for her.
The tricorder indicated life support available on the other side of the door as well as being devoid of life signs. But something was also garbling the readings. Her thumb clicked the phaser to the strongest stun setting. She took a deep breath and opened the door.
Nothing.
She peeked out looking both ways.
No one.
The phaser shook wildly despite her best efforts to stay calm. She could almost hear her drill instructors at Starfleet Academy roaring at her: It’s not your damned flashlight, quit waving it around! If she’d been a male cadet, they wouldn’t have yelled flashlight. She wished they were here now guiding her.
In the hallway, her hair swirled around her from a stiff breeze. Something had ruptured the hull in this section. Her ship was venting atmosphere. Crouching to make herself small, she crept along the wall toward the source of the breeze. Training told her the air was going to the hull breach. Therefore, go the other way. If she remembered the duty roster correctly, the other crew members on this deck were on station so their quarters should be empty. She was alone here.
The phaser almost fell out of her hand as she lowered the volume on her communicator badge. She used to resent her assignment to this science vessel. This wasn’t the Enterprise. That’s where she should have been. Everyone wanted to be on Starfleet’s flagship. Being under the command of Captain Jean Luc Picard was the ultimate prize for any Academy graduate. Her scores had been good enough. Instead, here she was on the USS T’naarr. Not a bad ship but one assigned far from the borders and far from deep space exploration. Six months after graduating and hardly anything exciting had happened. Until now.
The emergency lights illuminated the corridor poorly. The air smelled bad. Boring looked very good to her right now. The tricorder registered life forms but not who nor where. Something continued to interfere with the sensors. The bridge was probably the best destination. And the safest course was through the Jeffries tubes rather than the lifts. She opened a hatch and crawled into the space between the walls. The tight little tubes made most feel claustrophobic. Luckily, she’d grown up in tight little spaces. Smoke and chemicals polluted the air in the tubes. Life support was still offline she guessed. She retrieved a mask from an emergency panel. Good against contaminants. Not so good against the vacuum of space. It would have to do.
She climbed, following the maps dotted along her path, listening for anything. And anyone. Nothing more exploded. Someone had silenced the alarms. Maybe pirates. Maybe, just maybe, they’d taken what they wanted then left. That didn’t sound so bad. If only she could find someone in the senior staff.
Her communicator beeped. She almost fainted with relief. Then almost fainted in terror.
“Ensign Kari Wu.” A female. Not anyone from the crew. “Take the closest exit in the Jeffries tube you are in.”
Maybe it was a bluff. Maybe they didn’t really know where she was. She kept very still.
“Ensign Kari Wu. Are you injured? You are stationary at junction Papa-Juliet-110. Do you wish us to come and retrieve you?”
The sign above her read P-J-110. They knew exactly where she was. However, she didn’t move. First rule of hide and seek: Don’t give up your own position.
“Ensign Kari Wu. Before you exit the Jeffries tube, please drop both your weapon and the tricorder. We do not wish any misunderstandings. There are many innocents here and we would not want you to be considered a target.”
She sighed. They knew everything. No need to be an idiot about it. She headed back the way she had come.
“Where are you going, Ensign Kari Wu?”
Finally she answered back. “You told me to go the closest exit.”
She reached the hatch and started to dial the exit code. It didn’t work. Too much damage.
The voice turned cold. “Do not take us for fools, Ensign Kari Wu. There is no escape.”
“Make up your minds whoever you are,” she muttered.
She worked the manual release. It flew open. And she screamed as the air rushed past her. The vacuum tried to suck her out into space. The hatch should have let her out onto part of the ship. Instead, there was just emptiness. She clung desperately to the bulkhead. The noise of the air whooshing past deafened her. A huge ship hulked over the T’naarr. Someone was shouting at her through the communicator. Instructions. Instructions on how to close the hatch. Her freezing hand worked the manual control until it closed.
“You tried to kill me, you bastards!” she gasped into her communicator.
“You have my personal apology. I was unclear in my instructions. Take the next exit in the direction you were going.”
“Give me a second would you.” It wasn’t a request. She could hardly breathe. Her eyeballs felt like the vacuum had sucked them out of her skull. The female voice didn’t answer so the ensign just put her head down. She raised it when she heard a hatch open.
Someone appeared through the hole. But she could not identify it in the dim light.
“This way, Ensign Kari Wu.” The voice was that of the female.
“Alright. Coming.” Her mask was gone and her lungs already raw from the near vacuum burned from the pollution.
She crawled towards the figure who disappeared leaving just the pool of light.
“I don’t have a weapon or tricorder any more,” she called down.
“We know. Are you able to jump?”
She dangled her feet then jumped, falling over. She recognized this area as one of the cargo holds of the small ship. The Starfleet crew gathered in one corner. Of the thirty that were on board, only four were present. They kneeled with their hands behind their heads. Five now with her. Three scientists of the fifteen huddled together. She nodded at them and they nodded back. One even tried to smile. The senior staff were all absent. Everyone was bloodied, badly injured. Beat.
Then there were the intruders.
Her mind tried to process what she was seeing. Tall aliens. Jet black hair. Grey uniforms. And pointed ears.
“Romulans aren’t allowed to be here,” she blurted out. The ship was nowhere near the Neutral Zone with the Romulan Empire. Romulans being this deep in Federation territory... Impossible.
A female closed a communicator with a snap and turned to a male.
“That accounts for all surviving members of the ship’s complement, Captain Rhel. I believe we have accomplished our objective.”
The captain nodded with a small smile. “Yes, a great triumph for the Romulan Empire. Capturing a Starfleet science vessel. Certainly worth threatening the peace treaty.”
He seemed to be talking to the female. But another Romulan snapped his head around.
“I was promised Vulcans on board.”
There was silence. Then a tall Romulan stepped forward.
“As you have said, sir, the Tal Shiar...” he looked at the female. “Said that it was unlikely but not impossible that there were Vulcans on board.”
Kari sucked in her breath. The Tal Shiar? Here? The stories and rumors concerning the Romulan intelligence agency were legion. And all of them were bad. Bad for anyone and everyone, Romulan and non-Romulan alike. And why did they want Vulcans? So similar to their Romulan cousins in appearance, they were still completely different. Kari never understood why people couldn’t tell them apart.
The female smiled cooly. “I said that attacking a Federation science vessel for any reason was dangerous. The questionable intelligence or should I say hope that Vulcans were aboard this vessel was as I feared, flawed.”
“You were wrong!” the angry Romulan shouted at the tall one.
“The blame belongs to the Tal Shiar. She should have prevented it.”
The angry Romulan pulled his disruptor and pointed it at the female. “That is right. You are to blame.”
The female said nothing. He dialed the setting of the weapon and then pointed it at the tall Romulan who had been smirking at the female.
“But...”
Too late. A beam of energy hit the tall Romulan. It did not disintegrate but instead tore a hole in his chest. He stumbled, clutching the gaping wound, then collapsed right next to Kari. Blood spewed out. Whatever disruptor setting the angry Romulan had used had not cauterized the injury.
Kari instinctively shoved her hands onto the gaping wound. She staunched the flow but blood seeped from the male’s lips. The Romulans merely stared at her as she looked at them.
“Help me!” Kari cried. “He can still be saved.”
The captain looked away. “He was incompetent. He got what he deserved. And he has left us with this mess to clean up.”
“Yes,” the angry Romulan barked. “Clean this up. Make sure the Federation does not suspect us.”
He signaled on his communicator and disappeared in a transporter beam.
“The Federation exhibit many weaknesses,” the Tal Shiar female said to the captain. “Let us hope that incompetence counts prominently amongst them.”
The strange green hued blood pooled on the deck. It soaked Kari. She knew she shouldn’t care about this attacker. They had killed her crew mates and friends. Destroyed her ship. But her training, her Starfleet training, stated otherwise. Must hang onto that, she thought. I am a Human, I am a Starfleet officer, not a murderer.
“There is no comfort for you in these words,” the captain said to the survivors huddled together. “But I am truly sorry.”
He nodded to the Romulans under his command. Their weapons disintegrated the remaining crew and scientists. Kari shrieked. Then closed her eyes, holding her breath, hoping it was not painful. Nothing happened.
She cracked her eyes open a little. The captain was speaking with his crew. The Tal Shiar female loomed over her.
“Why not let him die, Ensign Kari Wu?” she asked. “After all, was it not his fault that your crew is dead, your ship destroyed?”
Kari didn’t look at her. “Get it over with. He can die then.”
The female placed her disruptor against Kari’s temple. “You must let him die. He is your enemy. Look at his eyes. He hates you. Despises everything and everyone that is Federation. Even if you saved him, he would still hate you. Then he would kill you himself.”
“Maybe I want him to suffer.”
The Romulan’s large and dark eyes widened a little in thought. Her face was angular with sharp high cheekbones and thick eyebrows sweeping up her forehead. She almost looked gaunt. Subtle vertical bone constructs ridged her forehead. The skin gleamed verdant, as did her lips. Her short black hair was combed tight over her scalp. And the ears. Pointed. They seemed larger than the males’ ears yet more delicate. Kari thought her face possessed a serrated beauty. Long, artistic fingers cradled the ugly disruptor. She seemed taller than Kari though it might’ve been their positions. She was thin, the uniform cinched at the waist gave her a slight hourglass shape
though sharp rather than rounded. The shiny silver uniform’s squared off shoulders imposed upon her a look of strength and power. Plain close fitting black pants were tucked into ankle boots. Scuffed well used boots.
“Hmm, there is that. And certainly, he deserves suffering,” she mused. “Tell me, Ensign Kari Wu. You opened the other hatch. Why?”
“I was trying to escape.”
The Tal Shiar female barked a laugh. “Even for a Human, Ensign Kari Wu, you lie badly. You appear to be someone who is not capable of taking direction well.”
Kari summoned up as much courage as she could. “Screw you.”
“Such language, Ensign Kari Wu.”
The captain strode over. “We’re going to make the wreckage look like a core breach destroyed her. It is the best we can do. And then hope Starfleet is too cursory in their inspection.”
The female turned her gaze upon the captain.
He sighed. “Yes, I know. Given the circumstances however, I see no better option. I wonder which of the Stars of Wisdom I offended to be given to that fool.”
“Serving the Beloved Nephew is an honor and pleasure, Captain Rhel. We are most pleased to do his bidding.”
“Yes, well, if he hadn’t revealed you as Tal Shiar on our ship and then again here, we may have been able to spare this ship’s crew.”
The female kept her face impassive.
“No,” he said tiredly. “I suppose not.” He rubbed his eyes. “Between the Tal Shiar, the Beloved Nephew, and the Federation... I’m doomed. Finish here. Since you saved her, she is your responsibility. We are transporting back to the Darksend. And since you are Tal Shiar, you are now relieved of your duties as first officer.”
The Romulan crew disappeared in a transporter beam leaving the three behind. The female’s face darkened a little bit as she pressed her lips together. Kari felt the barrel of the weapon push against her forehead. She wondered how the Romulan managed to crush the grip of the weapon without squeezing the trigger. The female’s knuckles were white.
“Get your hands off me, Human,” the tall Romulan groaned.
The female Romulan returned to the moment and gazed on the Human. “Do as he says and I will spare you.”
Kari stared at her hands. Thick greenish blood coated them. His heart beat faintly though not where a Human’s heart would be. She kept silent, just hoping it would be quick. The Tal Shiar whispered into her communicator. Then Kari felt the strangeness of the transporter. The surroundings of the cargo hold shimmered away to be replaced by a room. It looked like a sick bay.
The Romulan staff started forward.
“No,” the Tal Shiar said. “Leave them.”
“First Officer Syll...” a doctor protested.
“I am no longer a member of the Darksend crew. I retain my position in the Tal Shiar.” One of the staff gasped. “You may refer to me as Commander Syll.”
“We obey, Commander Syll.” The doctor grimaced as he inspected the injured Romulan from afar. “This male is mortally wounded. We must not delay.”
“The Beloved Nephew himself inflicted that wound.” The medical staff drew back. “The Human is the only reason he still lives.”
The surroundings shimmered oddly for a moment. The Darksend had cloaked. Detection would be difficult if not impossible. If it was clever enough, lucky enough, bold enough, the ship could navigate freely through Federation space. Invisible and unknown.
Security strode into the medical bay.
The security chief glared at Syll. He stabbed a finger at Kari. “What is that doing on our ship?”
“She is here as the guest of the Tal Shiar.”
“Has she been through decontamination? Been searched? Why is she not in the brig?”
“I shall leave the first two questions to be answered competently by yourself. When she is finished here, she can be placed in the brig.”
“I always knew you were Tal Shiar,” the security chief spat. “Search the Human.”
The security team first scanned her then searched her physically. They spoke around her as if she didn’t exist.
“Where is Tolan?” a female shrieked running into the sick bay. She was not military. “I heard he was injured.”
Syll smiled. “He is here. Go to him.”
She started forward.
Then Syll said, “He was injured by the Beloved Nephew himself.”
The female froze, her face blanching. “You lie! This... This Human did it!”
Syll raised an eyebrow. “Perhaps. In a way. By somehow ensuring there were no Vulcans on board a Starfleet ship with a Vulcan name.”
“Our dear Beloved Nephew would punish her then, not Tolan.”
“One might think so. However, it is Tolan who is no longer favored by the Beloved Nephew.”
The injured Romulan raised a hand towards the female. She shrank
