Chivalry is Dead- Chapter 11

Chivalry Is Dead, Chapter 11

By Peter Simons

Author's Note: You know, every time I get a chapter out I promise that the next one will be out sooner; and every time I feel bad afterwards because I didn't manage. This time, however, I had a perfectly obvious insight how to avoid this mess: I simply won't say anything! As usual, everything that's good about this chapter was Coconut's doing, and all the rest was mine. I hope you guys like the result, and I love you for sticking to this story even though it progresses at a snail's pace. Thanks!

Nagrath experienced a moment of vertigo. The relief he felt at being alive was powerful, but at the same time his heart threatened to tear apart because of the conflict he felt too. He had sworn to follow the Vulcan female without thought; he had truly meant it. He had sworn loyalty to the very person who had killed his Captain. The thought now boggled his mind.

He barely registered his surroundings. The bridge was ominously quiet. For a long time it seemed as if their oath still hung in the air, silencing everything else. It was a deeply emotional moment.

Nagrath wondered whether he had done the right thing. He had known Thornbow for most of his life; it felt horribly disloyal to follow the woman who had murdered him — instead of avenging his friend, like Thornbow would have done in his place.

Nagrath had known early in life what he wanted to be, or so he had thought. As a child, he had wanted to be a hit-man! He had loved building and firing weapons ever since he could remember. To him, the purpose of life was to live, and he had understood early on that living meant fighting for your life. A man who didn't risk his life, consciously and willingly, could not truly experience how it was to be alive.

He had always wanted to compete, to fight … to live. For him, being a hit-man had embodied all that. Only the finest Nausicaans could become certified assassins. The few schools that were licensed to train contract killers had rigorous sieving procedures; you were under constant supervision and had to live a very disciplined life. An effort, however, which paid off the moment you received your certificate and license — from then on, your life would be radically different.

He had trained and studied with enthusiasm until his 16th birthday — the day he became old enough to enroll. The night before his birthday, a huge crowd had gathered in his parents house. Even the remotest relatives had come to celebrate the occasion, they wanted to be a part of the proud moment for the Nausicaan family. Many of the visitors brought gifts — guns and ammunition mostly —, as did one of his uncles. This uncle worked in the shipyards, and had access to some of the more sophisticated space flight technology.

»Nagrath, my dear nephew,« the man had asked him in a quiet moment, »would you like me to fly you to school tomorrow?«

After 10 minutes in an ultra-sonic orbital-defense fighter, Nagrath had completely forgotten about his appointment to the hit-man training facility. After 15 minutes, Nagrath had convinced his uncle to let him fly the airplane, and after 30 minutes Nagrath had a new dream.

Getting into flight school was no simple accomplishment either, but fortunately his uncle knew several of the teachers through his work. As it turned out, Nagrath was an exceptionally gifted pilot, although some argued suicidal would be the better term. After 3 months of physical examinations and getting the paperwork together, he was granted admittance.

Even now, after years, Nagrath could still remember the moment in every single detail — the moment he had walked into the main building for the first time. In that moment, he had been fully awake and alive; it had felt like this was Day 1.

»Hi, is this dorm room 23A?«

»Yeah.«

»Good. Um, my name is Nagrath … I was told to come here—«

»I see! You are the new guy? The one who almost crashed an orbital-defense fighter into the financial district?«

»Um, yeah. It was my first flight, so—«

»Man, come in. You'll love it here! My name is Thornbow.«

One reason Nagrath remembered that moment now was because Thornbow was dead! Yet another reason was that Nagrath felt the same way right now. This was Day 1.

He realized T'Pol would run the pirate ship differently than his old friend had. Nagrath knew he would forever miss him. But he also knew that T'Pol would lead them into adventures he probably couldn't even imagine now. With a Vulcan as Captain, the sky was the limit! T'Pol certainly didn't think in terms of selling a few slaves or hustling through the universe somehow. She wouldn't waste her time with that, she thought big.

The fact that she had spared their lives was amazing, but that she trusted them to carry out her orders on top of it was an overwhelmingly bad-ass gesture. Maybe she had seen something in them? Maybe she had realized a potential that they themselves had not yet realized?

A moment ago, he had been ready to die — and now he found himself standing on the bridge, looking at his new Captain. He was simply overwhelmed with conflicting emotions.

For the longest time Nagrath battled silently for composture, until he realized that he could take it no more. He tried to pull himself together one last time, and raised his eyes to look at his Captain. When he saw her face, he lost all control.

Kalom experienced a moment of vertigo. He just stood there for a prolonged moment, until he finally realized that his mouth still hung open after making this powerful oath.

The first thought that came into his mind was: »We got it made!« He truly appreciated the good fortune that had led them along this strange path. What were the chances of meeting a bad-ass Vulcan like T'Pol and surviving it?

He could hardly imagine, let alone accept the fact that they had. And to top it all off, she had taken command. She had accepted them as her crew, agreed to trust them with her life!

He could not believe how lucky they were.

His life had been a constant struggle to survive. It had begun very, very badly, but step by step things were falling into place. Just escaping from the rotten colony had been a major improvement. Then he had begun to realize what a bunch of fine people his crew-mates were, had enjoyed the sense of having a family that he missed after leaving his own behind. Even working for the Betazoids hadn't really bothered him!

Just look at how far they had come now.

He knew in his heart that Thornbow would have been proud, if he had known that T'Pol would take command. Her decision to become Captain of their ship reflected powerfully on the pirate crew that Thornbow had formed out of a group of stray individuals. He had been an amazing Captain, and a proud Nausicaan.

Kalom couldn't even begin to imagine what would happen next. What would her first order be? What would a Vulcan pirate Captain do? It had to be something bad-ass. She wouldn't bother with selling a few slaves every now and then. For all he knew, T'Pol would try to take over the galaxy!

If she did, he would follow her. Kalom had no doubt that with T'Pol leading them this crew could accomplish anything. The calm mannerism with which the Vulcan had taken over the ship exuded determination. She had this air of »What could possibly happen?« to her that Thornbow had also cultivated, only the Vulcan didn't seem to know it any different.

There was an overwhelming sense of destiny to this moment. In all likelihood they would all be dead within a week, but whatever it was they did until then, he knew it would be something special. Something worth doing. Something bad-ass.

Kalom hesitated to look at his Captain because he knew how emotional he was. He tried hard to contain himself, but he just couldn't help it. He couldn't remember ever being this happy before. When he finally raised his eyes and saw the Vulcan's face, he just gave in.

T'Pol experienced a moment of vertigo when she realized that she would live! A thousand thoughts raced through her mind, and most of them involved Commander Tucker. She realized that — against all odds — she might see him again; that they would get the chance to talk; that she would have the chance to set things right; and that she might, after all, get rid of that painful knot in her stomach.

The weight of a mountain had fallen off her in this moment. Until now, she hadn't even realized how desperate her actions had been. It was pure chance that the Nausicaans had chosen to let her live, and suddenly the term luck didn't seem outrageous anymore. She had been truly lucky.

Her life had been endangered before, and so far she had always survived the danger, but she had never appreciated the moment of survival the way she did now. It felt like a gift … like a second chance.

She realized she had overcome her fears and doubts at last. She saw clearly now! T'Pol longed to see Trip immediately, to be able to talk to him right now, and it tore her apart that it wasn't possible. She had made her choice. She had chosen a mate! Some Vulcans still believed in the myth of Chosen Mates, cherished the idea that two individuals could complement each other so powerfully that they were drawn to each other and would meld into one. Now that she had chosen her mate, a part of her mind had begun to ache because of his absence.

T'Pol had her eyes pressed shut. She stood completely motionless on the alien bridge, like a deer caught in the headlights.

She had withdrawn from her surroundings and fought a terrible battle for control. She realized she was frightened, but she was also excited. She saw images of a semi-lit bar, and she was in it! It was a Jazz club in San Francisco. She had literally sneaked out of the Vulcan Compound to visit it one night. There she had felt like this before.

She could hear the music with amazing clarity, she could remember every little rousing detail. The musicians had simply improvised, but they knew each other so well and had such a similar vision of the song they wanted to play, that their instruments just fit together and formed something greater than the sum of its parts. T'Pol remembered how she had been first intrigued, and mesmerized a moment later.

She had appreciated the moment, just like she did now.

T'Pol opened her eyes and looked at the Nausicaan pirates right in front of her. However, her vision was so blurred that she had difficulties bringing the room into focus. She could still hear the music play while she watched the blurred shapes of the Nausicaan pirates take off their sunglasses and look back at her. They seemed to shudder.

She still couldn't move. As she stood there allowing her vision to return, she began to study them more closely. She felt the strangest sensations creeping up and down her spine. T'Pol realized that she wasn't out of danger yet. They might change their minds at any moment — they might realize that she had no power over them and dispose of her with a twitch of a finger. Had she been able to, she would have taken a step back, but she was frozen on the spot. All she could do was return their gaze.

Suddenly one of the tall Nausicaans began to make strange noises, which sounded like he was sobbing. Then another one fell in, and before T'Pol knew it, the entire pirate crew was crying openly. They dropped their weapons to the floor where they stood, and then approached her slowly and formed a circle around her.

T'Pol jerked slightly when a hand touched her shoulder, but to her surprise, it was a pleasant sensation. Then another Nausicaan laid his hand on her other shoulder, and before she could say anything or do anything, she found herself wrapped in a dozen arms, all embracing her gently, reassuringly. The tall men buried her in the middle a massive group hug, and for the longest time, T'Pol was lost in an ocean of tears and laughter.

Seri wondered about her path. It had led her into strange places at times, and this cramped compartment was not the least of them. She sat opposite the Nausicaan, a few meters away. A part of her realized that she had to let go of the memories that distressed her, that she had to return to the now. The situation they were in certainly deserved her attention.

She studied the tall Nausicaan for a while. This is what a pirate captain looks like, she thought. He didn't look dangerous, now that he slumped against a conduit with his arms chained together behind it. Although, she realized, he had never seemed dangerous to her.

Seri pulled her legs up to her chest, wrapped her arms around them, and drifted in her thoughts. She wanted to let go of Trip, of the sensations that assaulted her when she thought about him. She knew there was no other way, but for some reason she could not let go, she could not stop thinking about him. He was like a cut in the mouth. She could not stop feeling it with her tongue, and by doing so, she didn't allow it to heal.

She had to know why. What had she done wrong? What was wrong with her? Why was it that she struggled so hard to find her path, but just fell down every time?

Seri had believed that embracing her emotions was her path, but in this moment, she doubted her choice.

Thornbow woke up to a strange buzzing in his temples. His head hurt from the Vulcan's kick. His shoulders were tense and ached, because of the unnatural position he was in. He shook his head slightly, opened his eyes, and realized he wasn't alone. They had left the sad Vulcan to guard him.

She sat a few meters away from him, crouched in a corner of the small room. She seemed to look into herself rather than at the world, and her face was worryingly lifeless all the while.

The sight unsettled Thornbow.

Vulcans were creatures capable of great evil; they were ruthless. Some said the only emotion Vulcans didn't have to suppress was compassion, because their species literally didn't experience it. He had just witnessed how they broke promises without a second thought! Seeing the Vulcan female didn't fit this image. She disturbed him with her sadness, she upset his world view.

What could possibly make a Vulcan sad?

»Are you alright?«

The Vulcan female snapped out of her trance, and looked at him with suspicion showing clearly on her face.

»Why do you ask?«

»Why shouldn't I? Do you think it's odd?«

»Yes, I do think it is odd.«

»Why?«

»Perhaps you haven't realized the situation yet, but you are our prisoner now. The game is over.«

»What game?«

»What would you call it then?«

»What would I call what?«

»Abducting females to sell them into slavery.«

»You call that a game?«

»I assumed you did. How else could you justify your actions before yourself?«

»You think I am playing a game?«

»Yes, and I assure you: it is pointless. You cannot manipulate me into aiding your escape, Captain Thornbow.«

»You think that is what I am after? Holy Go'rida, what has made you so distrustful?«

»I beg you pardon?«

»I'm not trying to manipulate you. I asked because I was worried.«

»You are worried?«

»Yes.«

»So you suspect I am not alright?«

»I think it's pretty obvious, actually.«

»Then why don't you say so?«

»I beg your pardon?«

»If you observe a fact, then communicate the fact to me. Please don't ask questions.«

»You don't like questions?«

»I don't think you are in a position to ask questions.«

»What position am I in?«

»I knew you hadn't realized it. You are our prisoner, Captain Thornbow.«

»Just call me Thornbow.« He smiled at her, trying to ease the building tension, but Seri crossed her arms and arched a slim eyebrow in disapproval.

»You will be brought to justice, Captain Thornbow.«

»You will bring justice onto me?«

»Yes, I will help the cause.«

»That's nice of you.«

»It's unexpected to hear that you see it this way.«

»I'm serious. It's nice to hear that you will bring me justice, not death, because that is what I thought you would do.«

Seri was stunned.

»This is outrageous.«

»You wouldn't kill me?«

»No, not if I didn't have to.«

»So you would kill me?«

»If I had to.«

»What makes you think you might have to? You sound like you are judging me.«

»I already have.«

»You have already made up your mind?«

»Of course. I judge individuals by their actions, and I have first-hand knowledge about your actions, Captain Thornbow. You are guilty of piracy.«

»Guilty? What is that supposed to mean? I am a pirate.«

»You don't see any reason to feel guilty whatsoever?«

»I do sometimes … I make mistakes too.«

Seri hesitated. »I don't understand.« she stated flatly.

»What you called a game, I call a mistake now.«

»What did you think you were doing at the time?«

»I thought it would be a good idea.«

»You thought abducting us would be a good idea?«

»Well,« Thornbow smiled at her warmly, »you are very valuable.«

Seri shook her head slightly in astonishment; then she tilted her face a bit to the side and studied him cautiously. She knew it hadn't been a compliment, but she realized it had been something she needed to hear. The way he had said it, had made it one.

Seri realized she was breathing heavily. She had to forcibly relax her shoulders and upper body to calm herself down. He had unsettled her considerably.

The Vulcan woman stirred something in him. Thornbow could tell from the way she gauged him how suspicious she was. He had contributed to her problems quite a bit; he was in part responsible for her distress. He was suddenly confronted with the victim of his actions.

»Slavery is a petty crime.« he thought with shame, and it sounded almost like his father's voice. His father had given up his dream so that his son could become a pirate, but his father would not have been proud of abducting other sentient beings, even Vulcans. His father would have had a lot more class than that.

Guilt washed over him, and he couldn't look at her anymore.

»Why do you look away?«

Seri studied the Nausicaan with great interest. His demeanor had changed. He kept his eyes on the floor while mumbling inaudible words.

»Are you alright?«

Thornbow looked back up now.

»You are enjoying yourself, aren't you?«

»Can you blame me?«

»No … look, I am sorry about the abduction. I think you were right, it was a game to me back then.«

»You mean five minutes ago.«

»I learn quickly.«

»Then why do you have to be a pirate?«

»I wouldn't want to be anything else.«

»You have modest aspirations.«

»I know exactly what I want.«

»What do you want?«

»I want to be free to be who I am.«

»You mean free of responsibility?«

»No, I want to be free from people who put rules over me. I want to be free from others telling me what to think or what to believe.«

»Don't we all?«

»Do you?«

»Yes, very much, but that doesn't make me into a pirate — nor would it justify my actions if I were a pirate. There are other options to living freely than being an outlaw. I sympathize with your motives, Captain Thornbow, but citing them is a weak excuse for acting irresponsibly.«

»What other options are there? What do you do?«

»I …« Seri looked down and aside to hide the flush that was threatening to wash over her face. She suddenly felt flustered.

»Why do you look away?«

Thornbow was worried. He could see and feel the female withdraw, going back to some other place. Her face had been fascinating to watch the last few minutes. She was beautiful, especially in her angry moments. Now her face seemed to be without life again.

»I am sorry,« he offered sincerely, »I had no right to ask.«

The Vulcan female shifted uncomfortably; she still avoided eye contact. For a while, they were both quiet. Then, at last, she looked at him again.

»No,« she whispered in a frail voice, »I am not all right.«

A strange calm had come over T'Pol. The Nausicaan pirates treated her with more respect than any other alien or Vulcan crew ever had. They sought her advice. They asked questions to understand their orders before carrying them out. They were always interested in what they did. T'Pol had ordered to set lighting to 100% ship-wide, and now the Bird of Prey was a completely different vessel. The machine room had been cleaned up first, and then they had progressed upwards to the bridge. They had run a diagnosis of all vital systems, and repaired or reported all problems. Together, they had improved the Warp injector patterns used in the reactor. They could reach Warp 7.4 now.

T'Pol had set a course back to where she guessed Enterprise would be. She was on her way back to Commander Tucker … her mate, as she liked to refer to him now. At times, she had actually shivered when the thought came into her mind. Her struggle had been an inner one, she realized. She had struggled with her decision.

T'Pol leaned back in the command chair and relaxed. Her mind was calm. She exchanged polite looks with Nagrath and Kalom, who were working on the consoles behind her. She then turned the chair to face the view screen, so that she could see the stars passing by on their way back to her mate.

Nagrath could barely cope with the excitement he felt. T'Pol was one thorough Captain. It was amazing. She handled the ship with some bad-ass efficiency. He could tell so much: she wanted to be ready for combat.

He wondered why going back to her old ship was what she wanted to do. Clearly this vessel was superior to theirs, so what was the point? Had she unfinished business with them? Maybe she wanted to destroy them, to cover her tracks?

Kalom was excited! It had taken just a few hours to whip this ship into incredible shape. The other Vulcan females just sat around in the Cargo Bay. They didn't do much as long as they were given food. They were obviously not warriors. T'Pol was different. They had been fortunate to encounter her specifically. It was, as if it was meant to be. He shivered slightly when a rush of happiness ran down his spine.

Whatever she was up to, he couldn't wait to be part in it.

Benjamin addressed the crowd of bad-ass pirates that had assembled in the Engine Room. »Pirates,« he said, »we have to give T'Pol a present or at least a gesture of appreciation.«

Another tall Nausicaan nodded enthusiastically.

»It has to be difficult for her to work with an alien crew. We have to make sure she feels welcome.«

»Right, but can a present even express that?«

»I agree. She is our Captain! What could we give her that would make her feel any more part of this crew?«

»I know!« Benjamin spoke up again. He looked at the other pirates with a baffled expression. »It is so obvious!« he laughed.

Seri wondered how to explain. She had spoken words of great weight and meaning, like justice and responsibility, but now she realized she was in no position to back them up. She was an outlaw too. Her own people considered her to be no better than the likes of him. Technically, she wasn't violating a law — which made the punishment taste all the more bitter. They hadn't even put her to trial first.

Had the High Command been right? Was she no different?

Was that why she and the pirate seemed to think along the same lines?

She looked at the tall Nausicaan sitting opposite of her, crouched with his back against the conduit he was chained to. The sight was odd. He didn't seem to be concerned about his predicament. All he was interested in, it appeared, was her.

For a moment, Thornbow was the happiest pirate on the ship. Despite her hard, infallible exterior, a faint whisper of a smile had broken through that even reached her eyes. Thornbow was awed by her grace to smile so genuinely in the face of such sadness. He was relieved that she had stayed with him, instead of returning to that other, dark place.

Strangely enough, he could feel her focus on him increasing with each passing moment, and it made him feel vulnerable. His eyes were literally drawn back to her.

»May I ask you a question?« she offered politely once their gazes had met again.

»Sure.«

»Are you familiar with the concept of love?«

Thornbow choked out a tight laugh. Had she read his mind? »Are you?«

»I am uncertain.«

»You are uncertain? What does that mean?«

»I am uncertain whether we both share the same concept of love.«

»I see.«

»Your species knows love, and embraces the notion?«

»Of course. Do Vulcans?«

»No.«

»You don't know it?«

»We don't embrace it.«

»You don't believe in love?«

»Vulcan society does not.«

»What a shame.«

»Some think so.«

»Why would anyone not believe in love?«

»It is an emotion. Vulcans don't allow themselves to be ruled by emotions. Logic and Reason guide us.«

»You are guided by logic and reason?«

»For the most part.«

»Even right now?«

»Yes.«

»So is every other intelligent species in the quadrant. I don't see what makes Vulcans any different. Why can't you love and be guided by logic and reason at the same time?«

»Perhaps we can. I do not know, because my society does not encourage me to explore the possibility. Even discussing the subject is strongly discouraged.«

Thornbow was quiet for a long time. This was the oddest thing he had heard in a while. He tried to imagine what it must have been like to grow up without anyone ever telling you a love story, but he couldn't.

»Is that why you live in deep space?«

»In part, yes.«

»So you don't live in space by choice?«

»I am here by my own choice.«

Seri was stunned for a moment. It was such a simple truth, but she had almost forgotten it! She studied the Nausicaan closely before she went on.

»Have you ever been in love?«

»No.«

»Never?«

»No. Do you think that's odd?«

»Yes.«

»Why?«

»The other females talk of nothing else the entire time.«

»All your friends are in love?«

»Of course not! It lasts two weeks, and then it is forgotten.«

»They call that love?«

»Repeatedly.«

»That's not the concept I know.«

»How can you know the concept if you have never been in love?«

»Oh come on … everybody knows about love. It's what we all are looking for, isn't it?«

»Vulcans don't.«

»That is a shame.«

»Why have you never been in love?«

»I don't know …« Thornbow felt heat rising up his neck and behind his ears. »Why should I?«

»Have you never thought you were in love?«

»No, not really. I thought about it twice, but I reckon that if you have to think about it …«

»How will you know it, when you are?«

»You said it yourself, love is an emotion. I'll just know.«

»So you expect to be sitting on the bridge, doing your dirty pirate business, and suddenly you will just realize that you are in love?«

»Exactly.«

She paused a moment to consider this notion.

»That's ridiculous.«

»Apparently it works.«

»What do you mean?«

»I am here, aren't I?«

Seri hesitated, before she responded.

»I don't understand what you mean.«

»Well, my father and my mother got together, didn't they?«

»They loved each other?«

»Oh yes.«

»They have told you so?«

»They didn't have to.«

»I don't know whether my parents loved each other.«

»That must be strange.«

»Actually, it is perfectly normal.«

»You couldn't tell by the way they treated each other?«

»No.«

»I think that's strange.«

»Have your parents ever spoken to you about love?«

The Nausicaan laughed, leaned back, and grinned.

»My father told me about it.«

»He could tell that he … loved your mother? How did he know?«

»He said he knew it the moment he first saw her.«

»On first sight? That is not possible. What are the odds?«

»Why should the odds be higher on second sight?«

»How can you even know when you feel the emotion, if you have never been in love before?«

»I don't know it, but I guess it will be something I've never felt before. It can't be that hard to recognize.«

»I find it difficult. I thought I was in love.«

»But you weren't?«

»I'll never know. I … I couldn't. It was not permissible.«

»I am sorry.«

»It's for the better … it really is.«

»Now you're hurting?«

»A little bit.«

»That's perfectly normal.«

»The other females never seem to be.«

»Perhaps they feel it differently than you do?«

»Perhaps.«

They were quiet for a moment.

»My mother didn't want to have anything to do with my father at first.«

»Oh really? Was he like you?«

»I aspire.«

»What changed her mind?«

»What do you mean? He loved her.«

»Oh, he was irresistible then?«

»Love is irresistible.«

»Not to Vulcans.«

Thornbow smiled boyishly. »Good for my father.«

Admiral Kong was in a strange mood. The huge Klingon sat in his private quarters, and contemplated his life. He had recently turned 86. Reaching that age was quite unusual for a warrior. He wondered whether this fact reflected poorly on his life.

What did it say about him that he had become this old?

One point of view was that he had remained undefeated by any and all of his enemies. Yet, it didn't feel right to be an old warrior. Something had gone wrong. All of his friends had died long ago; he was the only one of his class who was still around.

Kong remembered how he and his friends used to make fun of the teachers back in school. They had been wild and reckless back then. They had been young back then. Now, he was the principal of the Klingon War Academy. He was out in space for the final exam of this year's class. Seeing these young warriors reminded him of his own youth, and for all he could tell, they were wimps. They were polite, they treated him with respect, they did as they were told, they listened, they studied … it was depressing. The young Klingons these days had no spirit at all.

Those were the moments he wondered about his death, which would invariably come one day. He wondered about his chances of dying in battle. In all likelihood, the battle he was about to witness would be the last of his life, and he wouldn't even be a part of it. He would sit in a comfortable chair on the bridge of his Warbird, and watch the students destroy an enemy vessel.

It was very depressing.

When he had taken the final exam, they had engaged a Rigellian combat cruiser. Kong had fired two shots, and that had been it. He had always had a knack for hitting critical systems. He remembered the discussion that had ensued with their principal over the comm back then. The stubborn Klingon had insisted that it would have been too easy and that this kill wouldn't suffice to pass.

»What do you want me to do? There are no other ships in the vicinity!«

»Then you will have to wait, Kong. Learn patience.«

»Patience? What is that supposed to be good for?«

»Rigellians are scum. Destroying one of their ships doesn't make you a warrior, Kong. We will find another suitable target for you to prove yourself worthy.«

»But there is no other ship within 20 light… wait a second!«

That had been the end of their principal. The old man had fought bravely, though, Kong remembered fondly.

Kong hit a button to bring up the sensor display on his desk. It showed four Birds of Prey in close formation with his own ship. They were on their assigned positions to a fraction of a meter. Their obedience disgusted him. There had always been rumors that one of the students would try to repeat the feat Kong had accomplished, but in 10 years, none had even dared to try it.

In a way, he wished that those four Birds of Prey would open fire on his Warbird now. If they would, he would cheer with joy! One last battle was all he wanted. He wanted to die fighting, like he was supposed to.

But even if those students would have the guts to attack their teacher … with his luck, he would probably destroy them, and end up being alive yet again.

It was beyond depressing.

»Admiral?« the voice of his first officer came over the comm.

»What?« Kong barked in response.

»We have picked up a suitable target 3.7 light-years away. It's an Earth ship.«

»An Earth ship? Are they any good?«

»It seems to be heavily armed.«

»Well, set a course.«

»Captain? Do you have a minute?«

At first, T'Pol didn't even react. She kept watching the stars for several moments, before it dawned on her, that Captain meant her. She shook her head slightly to clear her thoughts, and turned the command chair around.

To her surprise, she found the entire pirate crew assembled on the bridge. She hadn't even noticed that they had entered, and she chided herself for being so inattentive in her particular situation. It puzzled her that she was able to relax to begin with. When she started her service on the ENTERPRISE, it had taken months before she was comfortable enough around the crew to let her guard down in public.

»Yes, of course.« she offered after another moment, and got to her feet.

Benjamin took a step forward. He stood very erect; his demeanor was almost formal.

»Um,« he began, »on behalf of the entire pirate crew, I would like to …«

The young pirate hesitated. He looked at his comrades for a moment, and they all nodded encouragingly, so he turned his face back to T'Pol.

»We … we were wondering about your attire.« he said at last.

»My attire?« T'Pol asked with a raised eyebrow.

»It's not that anything is wrong with it,« Benjamin assured her quickly, »but it doesn't really fit.«

»It doesn't fit?«

Now T'Pol was worried. She looked down at herself, and studied her appearance. She had thought the blue underwear fit perfectly!

»Well, everybody else is dressed in black leather, and although we don't have uniforms, so to speak, it feels odd that our Captain is wearing something entirely different! We realize it's your choice, of course, but we thought you might like to … um, you would honor us greatly by accepting our gift.«

»A gift? For me?«

The mean pirates nodded enthusiastically.

T'Pol felt wicked in the black leather catsuit. Every little movement was accompanied by a soft sound; she could hear the fabric work when she breathed, so tight was it around her body. At first, she hadn't thought it would fit; but now that she was wearing the leather suit, it felt like a second skin. She felt lethal, and the sensation was not at all unpleasant.

Her fellow Vulcans probably regarded her preference for clothes that fit tightly as odd, or even vain, but T'Pol had dressed this way for her entire adult life. She found it suited her, in the best sense of the word. It revealed who she was and what she looked like; she placed little barrier between herself and the world. She didn't hide.

It didn't make her uncomfortable when others stared at her occasionally — not because she would suppress the emotion, but because there was nothing to suppress. T'Pol felt comfortable when others could see her. As revealing as the clothes were, they gave her strength.

The black leather catsuit was the most powerful attire she had ever worn. T'Pol looked at herself in the mirror and realized that she would never have thought she could look this way. With her unkempt hair, unsettled eyes, and a haggard face, she really did look like a pirate Captain.

Nagrath interrupted her thoughts from behind.

»Will you stand still please?«

»Sorry.«

At that moment, the mean pirate was pulling tightly at the lacing up the back. T'Pol waited patiently until she could feel Nagrath form a knot with the soft leather cord, right at the nape of her neck.

T'Pol studied her appearance carefully. She turned to the left, ran her hands down her sleek thighs, and inspected her shape in the mirror. Then she turned to the other side for a minute. At last, she turned around and studied her back in the mirror by spinning her upper body gracefully and looking over her shoulder. She walked several steps, all the while watching her back.

»Can you tighten the suit a little?«

Nagrath watched her clearly mesmerized, but with a slightly sceptical expression. »Are you certain?«

»Yes, it's too loose around the waist.«

Nagrath considered this, then shrugged and grinned happily. »Well, if you say so …«

T'Pol turned around, walked back to the mirror, and drifted in thought while Nagrath pulled and tugged at the cord that was laced up tightly over her spine.

»Are you trying to impress somebody?«

T'Pol was momentarily startled.

»I beg your pardon?«

»Can you even breathe?«

»Vulcans require very little air.«

»I see. I just thought … um, forget it, Captain.«

They were quiet while he completed his task.

»Done. Is it all right now?«

T'Pol stretched and turned her body with slow, sensuous movements in every direction, all the while observing her appearance in the mirror. She allowed herself the tiniest hint of a smile. Trip would drop dead if he could see her right now.

At last, T'Pol turned around and looked at Nagrath.

»I have to take it off again.«

»What? Why is that?«

T'Pol indicated a fine but distinctly visible line in the suit that ran from her one hip, across her abdomen, to the other.

The mean Nausicaan pirates were awe-struck when T'Pol entered the bridge. At first, the room remained completely silent while they struggled for words that would do their Captain justice. It took a moment until several of them burst out at once.

»You look so bad-ass, Captain.«

»Thank you.« T'Pol acknowledged politely. Then, walking with slow and deliberate steps, she headed towards the command chair. She had decided that displaying a proud, haughty expression would be the most beneficial course of action in order to further her current mission. Once she had reached the chair, she sat in it and strived for a completely straight, perfect posture.

»Status?«

»Status!«

Trip's voice had frightened the linguist. Hoshi paid attention to nuances in a person's tone, and she had picked up panic in Commander Tucker's voice. She spun around in her chair, and looked over to him. Trip kneeled awkwardly on the floor, desperately holding on to his best friend's face with shaking hands. Archer lay unconscious before him, bleeding profoundly from several wounds. Trip had a nasty cut across his forehead too. Hoshi wondered which of the two men looked paler, but couldn't discern any differences. The air on the bridge was misty with smoke and gas; practically every alarm had gone off after that last frontal hit. It was difficult to think with all the noise and chaos. When she answered, her own voice was also unsteady.

»The emergency beacon is online.«

»They've withdrawn!« Malcolm burst out from behind his console. He was the only one who had still been standing after the explosion. The Lieutenant studied the console intensely while punching several buttons.

»They've withdrawn.« he repeated with a sigh. He looked at Trip with relief, but it left his face the instant he saw Captain Archer lying motionless on the floor in front of him.

Admiral Kong sat in his command chair, and covered his eyes in shame with both of his hands. His students were playing games with the enemy ship. The thought deeply unsettled him.

Had they learned nothing at all? Had they no respect for the act of battle? Did they not understand that honor could only be gained by defeating an honorable opponent? How could they gain honor by taking their opponent's honor before defeating him? Whatever it was that went on in young Klingons' minds these days was beyond him. Warriors, he realized, weren't meant to grow old. His time was over.

Kong forced himself to look at the view screen again. Now they were flying outlandish maneuvers that brought them into a position where they could have hit the enemy ship, but they didn't; they just showed off their piloting skills. The proud Klingon's temples throbbed with anger.

It wasn't a matter of failing them on their exam. These Klingons were a disgrace. The Empire he had known would not have raised its children to act like this in battle. These Klingons were delinquents. In this moment, he wished with all his Klingon heart that a superior enemy would appear and wipe this horrible excuse of a class off the face of the universe. There had to be no evidence left that the Klingon War Academy had produced and graduated »warriors« such as these.

Kong had a strong heart, indeed.

»A distress call?« T'Pol repeated, and turned the command chair around to face Kalom.

The Bridge Officers alternated between looking at each other and looking down at their Captain. Trip, Malcolm, Hoshi, and Travis — they were completely frozen in the surreal moment. Red emergency lightening was in place; a dozen alarms and sirens sounded all at once; ensigns in blue uniforms ran from one display to the next seemingly without any pattern, but the Officers paid them very little mind. Visibility on the bridge was blurred with smoke and strange, red lights. It created an eerie atmosphere of unbreakable silence that seemed to hang over the bridge. Nothing dared break the spell, until at last the Turbo Lift door sprung open, and Phlox entered the room.

Trip blinked when he saw the Denobulan. Phlox calmly, almost routinely surveyed the room until his eyes fell upon Archer. With an odd kind of enthusiasm, he uttered a jovial »Ah!« that sounded as if he was happy to discover his unconscious patient. He walked over, calmly activated his scanner, and examined Captain Archer.

Everyone on the bridge focused on Phlox's face while he studied the scanner's display. After a minute, they realized he didn't appear to be overly worried, and they all snapped back into action.

»Where are the Klingons?«

»They …« Malcolm looked down at his console. »They are circling around our position, ready to attack, but they're not firing. It doesn't appear that they're going to retreat.«

Trip turned to Travis.

»What's our status?«

»Shields are down, sensors are down, engines are down.«

»Communications are down.« Hoshi added.

Trip turned back to Malcolm.

»What about weapons?«

»Torpedos are online, the targeting system isn't though, and neither are the phase cannons.«

Trip turned to Hoshi, but had to swallow before he could ask.

»Are there any casualties?«

»I didn't receive any reports before the comm went down.«

»Gentlemen,« Phlox interrupted them, gesturing for help, »the Captain needs treatment in Sickbay …«

»I'll help you carry him.« Trip offered. »It's on my way to Engineering anyway — Lieutenant, you have the bridge.«

»With all due respect, Sir,« Malcolm responded, »you are acting Captain. Your place is on the bridge.«

»We are in battle, Lieutenant,« Trip replied, and much to everybody's relief, a flicker of mischief showed on his face before he went on, »I think you will do just fine, given the circumstances. You'll have power back online in five minu—«

Commander Tucker stopped in mid-sentence without any apparent cause. It looked as if an invisible force had physically slammed into him. Trip reached out with both arms in the middle of the bridge to find something to hold on to, to regain his balance, but there was nothing, so he tumbled backwards with outstretched arms and fell down.

Shock and surprise had paralysed the other officers from attempting to catch him, but once Trip hit the floor, they all jumped up and rushed to his aid. Before they were even able to reach him though, Trip bolted upright, and sat with a bewildered expression on his face. His mad, wide-eyed stare combined with the nasty gash on his forehead now gushing blood down the bridge of his nose made for a very disturbing picture.

»Commander?« Phlox asked, while approaching Trip with the scanner directed at him.

Commander Tucker turned his head into Phlox's direction, but his eyes were unfocused and cloudy. He seemed to look through him. »She's on her way.« he stated flatly.

»Who is?« Phlox asked with a frown as he took another step closer.

»T'Pol, of course.« Trip insisted, clearly irritated that Phlox hadn't known that already. He eyed the Denobulan with suspicion, before he suddenly laughed out loud at the absurdity. »Don't you see?« he asked Phlox.

All eyes were fixed on the Denobulan's face once again while he studied the scanner display. He didn't appear to be worried though.

»Probably a mild concussion.« the Denobulan observed. »I'd better take a look at you too once we get to Sickbay, Commander.«

It was a female's voice. The subspace message had been incomplete, but for one moment the mean pirates could hear her in brilliant clarity. She spoke calmly, even though a lot of noise and several piercing alarms could be heard in the background.

»… repeat … we are under attack by four Klingon vessels. We need immediate assistance …«

The female paused. The transmission was intact, but she didn't speak for a moment.

»Please help us!« the voice added after the brief pause, having lost much of the calmness it had just possessed.

The mean pirates exchanged indifferent looks after the transmission had ended, then they turned to their Captain, and were startled to find the Vulcan standing rigidly in front of the command chair with closed eyes. There was no indication that she was awake. At first, she didn't move at all, but then her face began to twitch unnaturally.

»Oh my.« Benjamin choked out. He knew her better than any of them, so all pirates took a step back instinctively.

Vulcans were strange creatures. When she had been little, T'Pol had found several books about the planet's ancient history in the basement of their house; books that told stories of the savage times. She had secretly taken them to her room, one by one, and read them whenever she had the chance. The little girl she was back then had been deeply fascinated by those stories — and by those Vulcans she read about.

Millennia ago, Vulcan had been populated by tribal societies. The females had ruled their clan, and they had engaged in war constantly to defeat their enemies and to increase their wealth. T'Pol had read ancient myths about warrior princesses who had ruled the entire planet for periods of time, until another clan matriarch managed to overthrow them, and then the struggle had begun anew.

As a little girl, T'Pol had wondered what she would have been like, had she lived in those times. She had fantasized about being a warrior princess, about being undisciplined, emotional, passionate, aggressive, and strong. She had wondered whether she would have ruled a clan. In her dreams, she had embodied everything she was not supposed to be.

Once she had reached her societal age, though, and had cast off her emotional behavior, her perspective had changed. What used to be dreams were now nightmares. She had begun to realize that she was in fact one of those strange creatures. That she had every single one of those dangerous instincts within her. As a child, she had entertained the notion of giving in, of living the way she had been created. As an adult, she was scared beyond words that this could ever happen.

Now it had.

She had recognized Hoshi's voice immediately. Hearing the distress call set off a chain reaction that pushed her over the edge. She had tried hard to suppress her savage nature; she had tried hard to be a good, logical Vulcan; but now, a line had been crossed. She understood her emotional reaction, but even so she was powerless to stop it. Now, she was guided by an instinct over ten thousand years old — probably the most archaic, most basic instinct her species possessed. She could control it no more than she could control the beating of her heart. If there was one essential fact to be known when dealing with a Vulcan, it was this: never ever threaten a Vulcan's chosen mate.

»Captain?« Kalom asked, but T'Pol didn't respond. As her silence continued, their fear and anxiety grew. For a prolonged moment, the Nausicaans held their breath until finally the Vulcan female opened her eyes, and spoke but one word.

»No!«

The sight of her eyes unsettled the mean pirates deeply. Her gaze seemed to pass straight through them, as did her voice, and it was followed by an invisible shock wave that knocked them backwards and made them tumble. The Vulcan just stood there, staring into the nothingness and radiating an almost tangible, incomprehensible power into every direction. She looked outright scary to them.

T'Pol's mind was focused in a way it had never been before. Without knowing how she did it, and even though he was light-years away, she had reached out and touched the mind of her mate. Space and time were irrelevant to her in this moment. She could see him right in front of her. She could smell the blood pouring down his brow. She could share his thoughts, feel his anxiety, and hear his heart beat heavily in his chest. For an instant they were one, but just as quickly as it had happened, they were ripped apart again.

At first, the separation almost knocked her unconscious, but T'Pol recovered within seconds. She had never been more awake or more focused than now; she knew exactly what she had to do. Every other consideration had just ceased to exist for her.

Slowly she turned her attention to the Nausicaan pirates. The tall men looked back at her, their eyes wide open.

»Set a course to the origin of that distress call. Maximum Warp.«

For a minute, the mean pirates looked at the floor or at each other — everywhere but at her. They appeared to be uncertain what to do.

»Um …« Nagrath began at last as he looked around to the other pirates for support, »we're a little concerned, Captain. I mean, they said they were under attack by four Klingon ships.«

»We have no other choice. We have to save them.« she replied without thought.

»Right,« Nagrath confirmed, even though his demeanor made it clear that he didn't see her point, »but … in all honesty … is there anything we can even do?«

»We have no other choice!« T'Pol repeated more firmly. She shook her head in disbelief for a moment. They were wasting time. »That was the ENTERPRISE!« she added, as if that would explain everything.

»Your old ship?«

»Yes!«

The Nausicaans nodded, as if they understood, but they still made no attempt to carry out her orders. They just looked at her.

»Captain,« Nagrath began once more, »what exactly has happened a moment ago?«

All pirates nodded in confirmation. They studied her suspiciously.

Then, T'Pol realized that they didn't understand! How could they? They had no idea what was at stake for her. For her, this was a life-and-death situation, literally; but for them, it was just another distress call they had received.

Despair took hold of her. She understood that she needed their help! This ship needed a crew if it was supposed to be of any use. She had to convince them; she had to give them a reason.

»I—« she began, but trailed off.

How could she explain? How could words possibly describe her situation? So T'Pol ended up speaking the first thing that came into her mind: the truth.

»My mate is on that ship. We have to save them.«

She had barely spoken the words, when a moment of panic hit her. T'Pol had to avert her eyes to hide her fear; she felt vulnerable and exposed right now.

When she finally found the courage to look at them, the sight didn't help to sooth her in the least. The tall men watched her as if this was the most outrageous thing they had ever heard. They shook their heads in disbelief and mumbled inaudible words to themselves, clearly not convinced at all.

With just two quick glances, T'Pol registered each Nausicaan's respective position on the bridge, and calculated the shortest path that would lead along each of them in a series of kicks and punches. She knew it with deadly certainty: if they disobeyed her orders now, she would kill them all.

The mean pirates could not believe it. That was the most outrageous thing they had ever heard! The tall men shook their heads in utter disbelief in an attempt to cope with the revelation. They had killed dozens of Klingons by now, but still their mentality eluded the Nausicaans' grasp completely. What were those idiots thinking?

Attacking the ship T'Pol's mate was on had to be singularly the dumbest thing anyone had ever done. In all likelihood, her mate would kick the Klingons' asses across the galaxy and back four or five times! And even if her mate didn't do it, T'Pol certainly WOULD. Klingons really had a death-wish sometimes, there was no other explanation.

Anger and fury rose in the mean pirates. They felt insulted by the Klingons' actions. What the hell were they doing? The Klingons were fucking with their Captain's mate. Thus, they were fucking with their Captain. Therefore, they were fucking with them, and that was one fucking mistake!

At the very same moment, each and every Nausicaan on the bridge had reached the same conclusion.

The Klingons had crossed a line this time.

T'Pol could feel the atmosphere change in the room. The Nausicaan pirates had appeared unsettled only moments ago, but now they watched her with so much determination that T'Pol wondered whether she would even be able to defeat them all, if she had to. Their demeanor had changed. They stood completely erect and motionless in their black leather coats that were packed with excessive weaponry. They exuded menace and danger in abundance; they looked like forces of nature waiting to be unleashed.

»Alright.« Nagrath declared in an ice-cold voice, before turning to his fellow Nausicaans for a moment. They all exchanged quick glances, nodded, and then turned their attention back to T'Pol.

Almost simultaneously, the Nausicaans reached into their leather coats, produced dark sunglasses, and put them on in a slow, deliberate movement.

»Alright.« Nagrath said one more time, and his voice cut through the intense atmosphere like a blade.

»This time … it is personal.«

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A whole mess of folks have made comments

I love this storyline - am thrilled you're keeping it alive. This is hilarious in its sincerity. The Nausicans slay me. Hope Trip's able to handle Captain T'Pol - sounds like he may need a whip...

[[Powering back down into sleeper mode - awaiting your next ;) ]]

Thanks for the fabulous post!

I'm thinking... a whole ship full of Neo's... when they put on those sunglasses. This is TOO hilarious. Can't wait to see T'Pol whup up on the Klingons... and will Seri fall in love with the Nausican captain? Trip better get out the handcuffs for their post-battle celebration! What fun!(Please, Mistress T'Pol... spank me again, darlin'!)

OMG. I am so happy to see an update to this story, it’s priceless.

That last scene you painted Peter was just hysterical; I swear I could hear strains of George Thorogood’s “Bad to the Bone” playing in my head as all the Nausicaans donned their sunglasses.

This is just a fun romp; I have no idea what the heck to expect in your next chapter, I only know that when Trip gets a look at T’Pol in that outfit…

Honestly, this story is so out there, how can anyone not like it. A little levity is always a welcome distraction. Looking forward to your eventual update ☺

Thanks for updating!!! I've been waiting for an update on this one for a while now... I was beginning to give up all hope. Keep up the good work.

this is so wonderfully funny

Bad-ass! Is it wrong that I dig these pirates? Keep it coming and please...don't make us wait so long!

Please update soon.

I love this! I was thinking about this story the other day, hoping for an update. Great chapter--T'Pol in a black leather catsuit and having it laced tighter! WOW! Can't wait until Trip sees her.

The last scene was wonderful -- the pirates with their sunglasses and leather coats, "This time . . . it is personal"

Please update soon!
Thanks.

Absolutely fantastic!

And hilarious. It is very humorous to imagine the entire bridge crew wearing sunglasses as they fly off to battle what to most would be a suicide mission.

Great stuff Peter. Always fun reading.

i thought you would NEVER continue this serie. i love it! pirates and klingons and sunglasses... its fantastic!

ROTFLMFAO!

I'm dyin here laughing so hard.

Ya gotta finish this, or better yet don't, just keep adding. more frequently if you can.

Thanks for the fun.

HTH2k4

Wonderful chapter as usual! I really liked the way you kept switching POV and got us inside the heads of the relevant players. I know you're building us up to one outrageously delicious confrontation and I, for one, can't wait!

Hey, Peter! Hey guys! Long time, no see! Great chapter Peter, you've certainly got a gift! I would bug you about more chapters... but uh... well... that would pretty much be hypocrisy.... lol Still, keep it going!

you MUST write again soon.
i LOVE this story

Don't do this to me! I've just been reading this, and it is fantastic, so funny, and T'Pol simply rocks! But then no, it stops why?!!!!!!!!! Please continue, or I'm coming after you with my lirpa, right after T'Pol's finished kickin some bad-ass Klingons, lol.

NOOOOOO! There HAS to be more! There MUST be more! Please Please Please - MORE!!!

Come on guys! Somebody pick this up and finish it, don't leave us all hanging. Please, with blood beer on top.

Come one Peter.... one final chapter. Please finish it.

Hey guys, I promise that I'll finish this story. There are two more chapters, maybe three, and the next one is almost finished. I can't do anything about the delays, I'm sorry, but I have to be in a special kind of mood to write on Chivalry. I'll try to hurry.