Get Us Out of Here - Ch 5

Get Us Out of Here

By Aquila

Category: Don’t know until the story ends
Rating: R, to give the muse room
Disclaimer: Nope, not mine.
Spoilers: Yes – don’t read this if you don’t want to know.
Summary: Things didn’t turn out quite like Daniels expected. Trip and T’Pol and the crew of the Enterprise have to clean up his mess. Again.

--

Part 5

“It must be a Wednesday.” Trip pulled his head back, having peered around a corner of the church they used to shield them from view of hostile forces. T’Pol and he had made their way undetected to the back of the church that stood on the east side of a town square, next to the old palace.

“Wednesday?” Early Twentieth Century Berchtesgaden did not boast a jumbotron or an LED crawl emitting the latest news. She knew Trip’s eyesight was excellent, but he could not read the dateline of a newspaper at a distance of 100 paces. T’Pol was certain. “Clarify.”

The sound of marching boots delayed his response. Trip pulled her tight against his body, hoping to reduce their chances of being observed by changing their silhouette from two heads to one. T’Pol, understanding intuitively the gist of his plan, surprised him by applying sufficient pressure to force his spine against the church wall and sear the curves and plains of her body onto his. To observers they would appear to be illicit lovers, groping in the shadows. Her embellishment unleashed his bridled desire. Instinctively his pelvis responded with a forward push. Unhesitant she returned it, with a twist and a slide that was like setting a flaming match to dry tinder.

“Clarify,” she repeated with her lips pressed to his temple.

While she continued their subterfuge by nibbling on his neck, he explained in a lust choked whisper, “I read in the guidebook…ah… that many small towns …mmmmm…closed their shops…uh… for half … ahhhh…a day every Wednesday.”

When the sound of the patrol had faded, she twisted out of his embrace. They stood side by side, backs to the wall, breathing heavily.

We are in need of appropriate clothing, food and shelter.” She observed between gasps. “And a plan.”

“I think I know how I can take care of our immediate needs.” He winked to underscore the intentional pun. “We can plot to save Earth over dinner.” His stomach gurgled alarmingly, reminding the pair that had not eaten in 24 hours.

--

Mayweather was thankful for a moonless night as the away team scrabbled up the cliffs that formed the natural western wall of the Presidio. He was ambivalent about the strong offshore wind that whipped debris into their eyes, yet swept away from the listening enemy the sound of falling rocks dislodged during their ascent.

From intel gathered by a sweep of the shuttlepod’s scanners, the team knew that the cliff face was guarded by patrols of soldiers, on unpredictable schedules. This section was topped by a rocky outcropping that made foot patrols difficult and would obscure their arrival at the top or so he hoped.

--

“Tweed or…tweed?” Trip held up two pairs of trousers, one was predominantly green, the other brown.

“One pair in the rucksack, one to wear,” decided T’Pol, taking the green pair from his hands.

“Wool shirts.” T’Pol held one aloft. “Try one this one.” She imagined that the hue of blue would enhance his eye colour. A detail she chose not to share.

The couple were stripped to their skivvies in the storeroom of a shop that faced the square to sell mountain hiking gear and apparel to tourists. Judging by the accumulated dust, the war and the notorious citizen who resided in the town had not been good for business.

Trip had picked the old fashioned lock on the delivery door that opened onto an alley at the back of the building. Each of them had a pile of gear at their feet. Their folded uniforms rested at the bottom of rucksacks in which they were placing shirts, trousers, socks.

T’Pol was folding the sack left by Daniels when she discovered a secret pocket. During her original inspection of the item, she assumed the pocket was a feature of the sack that allowed the carrier to fold it into a compact package when not in use.

“Trip.”

He could count the number of times she had used his personal name on one finger. He was immediately on alert, as she passed the sack to him.

“Coin of the realm,” Trip observed in a poor imitation of Malcolm. “Looks like we can afford a room with all the mod cons, T’Pol. Hot damn!”

“We must work our way to the railway station and wait for an arriving train,” plotted the Vulcan.

“We’ll make it look like we arrived that way,” Trip said embellishing the plan, “We need to conduct a reconnaissance of the station anyway.”

--

“Gutenabend, meinherr,” said an elderly gentleman who stood behind the registration counter of the inn.

A couple had entered the lobby, dressed in expensive hiking attire. Was the man a Luftwaffe pilot enjoying a few days leave in the mountains with a willing female, before returning to the front? He noted how the tweed trousers and vest failed to hide the female’s figure. Lucky man, he thought, although she was too thin for his taste.

“Gutenabend,” returned Trip, having studied the glossary of useful phrases in the guidebook.

T’Pol stopped breathing.

“Ein Raum mit einem Bad und einem matrimonial Bett, bitte.”

She knew the phrase meant: A room with a bath and a double bed, please. Would the old fellow?

“Zweifellos Offizier.” The desk attendant turned the registration book toward his guest then presented him with the pen. “Unterlagen, bitte.”

Trip bit the inside of his cheek. They had anticipated a request for identification.

“Unsere Kennzeichnung ist an der Unterseite unserer Beutel. Mögen wir sie Ihnen morgens zeigen?”

The glossary of useful phrases had puzzled T’Pol. An excuse for lost identification had appeared too good to be true. Trip had wondered if their guidebook had been doctored by Daniels. Would they ever know? T’Pol thought not.

“Schicken Sie bitte Brot, Wein und Käse zu unserem Raum,” Trip waited for some sign his request for bread, wine and cheese had been understood.

The man nodded yes, said, “Sofort,” and handed Trip a key.

“Danke.” His mother had taught him that good manners and a sincere smile soothed difficult situations. They were the most effective weapons in his arsenal at that moment. So he used them.
--

The ascent had warmed Hoshi. Fear had provided a welcome boost of adrenaline. Mayweather noted the flush in her cheeks and the sparkle in her eye. He had long admired Sato’s ability to conquer her fear. Now he was admiring her vitality and grit. He looked for the pair of MACOs, who had led the ascent of the cliff. One short burst of light. That was the signal on which they had agreed.

Hoshi nodded her head in the direction of the light. Travis raised his thumb to confirm the sighting. According to plan they fell into single file, Hoshi leading. Their plan had not included Mayweather’s sudden interest in her rear. Now it was she who was unaware of a shift in dynamics.

--

“Welcome aboard, Mother.” Malcolm kissed the cheek of the woman who had stepped off the transporter platform. “Now, Davis.”

Mrs. Reed turned to look in the same direction as her son. Her gasp of surprise caused her son to wrap his arm around her shoulders encouragingly. She watched fascinated as her husband materialized in a shimmer of light.

“Did I look like that, Malcolm?”

“Yes, Mother.” Reed stepped forward, his hand stretched out. “Welcome aboard, Father.”

“None of this nonsense would have been necessary, if you had only joined the Navy.” His father shook the proffered hand. “But you had to join Starfleet. What will your cousins say?”

Malcolm ignored the barb. “If you follow me we will soon hear what the cousins have to say.”

--

End of Part 5

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Half a dozen of you have made comments

Ah,youare teasing us to no end!!!;-))) Wonderful chapter! Waiting breathlessly for the next one!!!

Oooh, a room with a bath and a double bed - sounds like a good place for "moanin"!! :-) Looking forward to the next chapter!

Chuckle, with that double bed shouldn't you rename this fic "DON'T Get Us Out of Here"? Can't wait for the next part, *bitte*. Ali D :~)

Die Geschichte ist super-spannend bisher -- und ordentlich sexy obendrein. Bitte beeile Dich mit dem nächsten Kapitel! Oh, und die großen Betten in den Hotels heißen auf Deutsch »Doppelbett«. :-)

Vielen Dank für Deine Mühen bisher!

Doppelbett - Peter - thank you for the advice - I admit I took licence with that one - in Italy the only way to get a double bed is to ask for a matrimonial bed - especially during the early part of the 20th Century - I couldn't resist the implications.

By the way - I don't speak or write German...all phrases included are the result of a translation program - the errors therefore are totally mine.

Thanks for the kind words - or at least that's how your comments appeared when I pushed the translation button :)

Aquila

Aquila, if you want any help with the German phrases, just let me know: <simons@cryp.to>. I'd be glad to assist. Us Germans have to be good for something, right? Curiously enough I lived pretty close to Berchtesgarden for several years and have a few good friends there. So if anyone plans to see the Führer's Adlerhorst, I'm the guy who can get you cheap apartments to stay. :-)