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Get Us Out of Here-Ch 10
Get Us Out of Here
Category: Don’t know until the story ends
“An uncoordinated pincer movement, from – you think – two different time periods? That’s your plan?”
Malcolm took no offence at the tone of incredulity his father used to ask his question. “Yes Father.”
“How can you be sure that …” Mr. Tucker searched for the names, “T’Pol and Trip are in another time period and trying to reset history?”
“I can’t…for sure,” Malcolm sighed, “But Crewman Daniels has manipulated us on more than one occasion by time-napping Captain Archer. And the Captain told us that Daniels believes he – Archer – is a significant if uncooperative pawn in the temporal wars. So my assumption that he spirited away Trip and T’Pol is an educated guess.” Malcolm drew a breath. “My conviction that they are doing their utmost to reset history is based, again, on experience. You have not been stranded in a subzero shuttlepod for endless hours with the bloke. I feel sorry for the villains of whatever century he is in.” A smiled lurked about the corners of Reed’s mouth. “You never met T’Pol. Take everything you have ever heard reported and multiply it by a factor of ten. She’s formidable, focussed and fearless.”
Sato and Mayweather set their phase pistols on stun. They had made a pact that no one would die unnecessarily at their hands, despite the personal risk. It was a chance they were willing to take for the sake of their consciences.
The whistle announcing the arrival of the first scheduled passenger train floated on the morning breeze. Trip leaning against a post that supported the vaulted glass ceiling scanned the empty tracks in the direction of Munich. A cloud of steam drifted across the rooftops where the track disappeared at a bend.
How the hell are we going to know who the evildoer is Trip asked himself for the hundredth time? T’Pol’s logical explanation that the courier would be on official business so they should watch for delegations of military officers in the dress uniforms seemed sound twenty-four hours before. But now, he considered, with the fate of the universe hanging in the balance, it seemed downright naïve.
T’Pol, a Tyrolian hiker’s cap pulled down to hide the shape of her ears, stood on the platform reading a newspaper with their rucksacks at her feet. T’Pol used the newspaper to disguise her observation of the main passenger entrance to the train station. She was watching for any indication from the town that an official event was about to take place.
T’Pol began plotting the positions they would assume in the station should their target fail to arrive on the first train. If they lingered too long on the track after this train departed, the authorities would grow suspicious. She darted a glance at a pair of military police with machine guns who were patrolling the platform. When her eyes returned to the street entrance, a motorcade with small Third Reich flags flying from their front wheel wells entered the plaza in front of the station. She stooped to rummage in a knapsack.
Trip caught the signal.
In the dark of the night, the beam of light emitted from their pistols alerted the entire patrol to their presence and gave the enemy a direction in which to aim their guns. Bullets whizzed overhead. Hoshi and Travis had deliberately chosen higher ground from which to fire, then ducked and rolled downhill to avoid return fire.
They split up as planned, zigging and zagging through the underbrush as quietly as they could. Hoshi came upon one of the unsuspecting peripheral sentries who had moved her position slightly to get a better view of the action. Hoshi took her out silently with a well aimed chop to the neck then moved on.
Mayweather was the first to arrive at the back of the hospital tent. He could hear shouting again, but this time from inside the tent.
“Who sent you,” was followed by a thud. Travis guessed a fist had connected with an abdomen.
Hoshi appeared at his side.
Travis drew her into his arms and whispered, “Looks like the MACO’s were taken prisoner.”
“So we have 3 to rescue now,” she replied pulling out of the embrace to lift the bottom of the tent.
From the situation room, Malcolm watched the blips on the screens. Doctor Phlox had injected a subcutaneous marker into each of his family members. They had been deposited by transporter, one by one, in different areas of the city. They carried explosives and incendiary devices with which to reek havoc. They were guerrilla fighters bent on drawing the enemy away from the Presidio into the streets of San Francisco, diverting the enemy’s attention from the rescue team.
Clan Reed had authentic papers, positions and papers. It would take the enemy some time to identify their part in the ensuing chaos.
Trip moved to T’Pol’s position, stooping to collect their rucksacks as travellers do at the imminent arrival of a train. While many of the civilians on the platform craned their heads to see who would emerge from the motorcade, the pair moved closer to the edge of the platform. What they wanted would arrive by train to be transported to the Fuhrer. Trip and T’Pol used the distraction of the motorcade to get into position unnoticed.
Travis was keeping watch while Hoshi, prone on the damp ground, observed activity in the tent when the first subversive move of Clan Reed lit up the night sky. Everyone inside the tent turned toward the noise. Hoshi took advantage of the distraction to role under and inside. Travis followed immediately.
“There half way down the aisle,” Hoshi was reading her PADD and pointing to a curtained bed. “The signal is coming from there.”
The courier descended from the train. A leather satchel clutched in one hand. He paused on the platform to look for the arrival committee. His instructions had been specific. That was the opportunity T’Pol needed. Trip turned his back to the courier to scan the crowd, which was still looking toward the main entrance. A squad of black-suited civil servants had begun to move through the doors into the station.
T’Pol approached the courier from behind, raising her hand as if to tap him on the shoulder. He dropped to the floor unconscious. She grabbed the satchel before it fell under the wheels of the train.
“Captain,” Travis hissed.
Archer and the two MACO’s incarcerated with him turned away from the distracting sounds of explosions.
“What took you so long, Travis?”
Fiona loved the pop of a champagne bottle. No one ever popped a bottle of champagne in sorrow. A half a dozen bottles popped simultaneously, reminiscent of the explosions set by the Clan during their distracting sortie. This was as welcome a sound as their explosions were then.
The stewards passed trays of bubbling flutes through the crowd gathered in the dining hall of Enterprise. When all were served, an aide called for silence.
Admiral Forrest raised his glass, which signalled the guests to raise theirs.
“To the officers and crew of Enterprise.”
The guests echoed his toast then sipped.
Forrest turned to Archer, “I’m sorry, Jon, that we must keep secret the part hour crew has played in the temporal war. The celebrations in which we will partake later today will be for your safe and successful return from the Expanse.”
“Understood, Admiral,” Jon lifted his glass to his lips. “So that nothing gets out inadvertently I have given leave to everyone involved in the rescue mission effective immediately. They will not attend the celebrations.”
“How will you explain their absence to the media?”
“I will say that they requested to be allowed to rest and recuperate in seclusion with their families. There will be a media conference in about four weeks at which they will appear for photographs and to answer questions.”
“Granting their request was the least that Starfleet could do for the heroes of the Expanse,” finished Forrest in his spokesperson voice.
Fiona watched the Forrest and Archer chat, wondering in what direction their conversation would eventually take Malcolm. Seeing that the newly promoted Lt. Commander made his way toward her she pasted on her biggest and brightest smile in greeting.
“Darling,” Malcolm pecked her on the cheek, “Your insincerity is showing. Your fame and fortune is merely delayed, not denied.”
Fiona slipped her arm through Malcolm’s who continued, “We will spend the next four weeks shopping. You will enjoy that. I thought we should look for two places. The first would be a pied a terre in San Francisco for the times I am home and on-duty. The second would be a country place, for leaves and off-duty weekends. That could be anywhere on Earth. Where would you like to live?”
She smiled wistfully and lowered her voice, “I admit that – in the beginning – marrying you was a means to an end – a pleasant, very pleasurable means to an end.”
Malcolm blushed at the compliment. He was still unaccustomed to the eagerness with which Fiona sought is physical attention. More often than not she was the initiator, letting him take the lead once his desire was engaged.
“Malcolm, darling,” she stood on tip toe so that their eyes met, “This war you dragged us into…it isn’t over is it?”
“It may not be,” Reed admitted. “But what has that got to do with you marrying me?”
“You will not shirk your duty,” she said with finality.
“Fiona, don’t be mad,” Malcolm kissed her forehead, “Of course I won’t.”
“I do not want to be your widow, Malcolm. I want to be your wife,” Fiona confessed, while a tear trickled down her cheek.
The newly minted Lt. Commander looked at his lady. In her face were the first indications of a deepening emotion that he never imagined he would see.
“Darling, let’s slip away, right now, just the two of us,” he looked around the room. “The family won’t miss us for a few hours.” He kissed her on the lips. “I think we have a lot to talk about.”
Fiona beamed, “Just talk?”
Malcolm laughed out loud. “Multi-tasking, milady, is my specialty.”
Hoshi Sato strolled across the dining hall toward Travis Mayweather who was surrounded by admiring females. Death had tried to stare her down and she had won. The spine of steel that had been forged in the battle held her head upright.
She shoulder her way through the crowd. Travis beamed when he saw her, “Hoshi.”
She nodded coolly, “Travis it is time to go.”
Puzzled, he asked, “Where?”
“My bed,” underscoring her claim by slipping an arm through his and leading him away through a crowd of slack jawed females.
Trip and T’Pol stood side by side near a view port with their backs turned away from the crowd. Unlike Malcolm and Fiona there were no physical displays of affection between them, although the current of energy that sparked unseen across the void had focussed their attention on each other.
“Where is this hideaway?” Trip was intrigued by her announcement that she owned a small property on Earth where they could spend their leave alone.
“In the Highlands of Scotland, T’Pol’s mind was filled with images of the white-washed croft.
“Have you had it a long time?” Her confession that she was more than 30 years older than he still caused twinges of jealousy. Had she shared intimate moments with others in those decades before he was born?
“For as long as you have been alive,” she admitted. “But I have never shared it with another in all that time.”
Trip shot a grin in her direction, “My parents are going to be real angry with me if I don’t show up for four weeks.”
“They will forgive you when they meet the reason for your tardiness,” she said confidently, “Although your mother will not understand why you refuse to marry me as is the custom on Earth.”
“Come on, honey,” Trip returned to an oft repeated refrain, “You know I was flattered that you wanted to make an honest man of me. Livin’ together unofficially is the only way the two of us can continue to serve on the same ship after you join Starfleet. You don’t trust me to keep my promise of fidelity.”
T’Pol had manoeuvred her man into a corner, “You could attempt to convince me of your sincerity. My croft has a large feather bed with fresh linen that has not been slept in for some time.”
“Once we’re in it, we’re not leavin’ it again for a month, you understand.” Trip capitulated.
“I will hold you to that promise.” T’Pol turned toward the exit. “Shuttle pod one is ready for launch. Meet me there in a quarter of an hour. Bring a tooth brush. You will not need anything else.”
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Eight hardy souls have made comments
Ah. What a perfect and surprisingly sudden end. I was prepared for quite a few more chapters... (hint!)
I so loved Hoshi(“Travis it is time to go.” - Puzzled, he asked, “Where?” -
Thank you for this adorable story!
Very good and very original. I think Malcolm sounds a bit 007, love his ability to multitask and adore all the bits with Trip and T'Pol in it. Thanks! Ali D :~)
Yum... Trip certainly is gonna have a good break after all that now isn't he?! Lovin' this!
I didn't expect you to finish so soon. Very entertaining story.
Memorable line #1 Hoshi to Travis:
Memorable line #2 T'Pol to Trip
Classic! LOL :D
Another great story, Aquila. Loved it, especially the last bit between TnT. Now if only we can convince you to make it another one of your great series.
Ok I agree with everyone about this story! WOW! I totally loved it! One of the best I've ever read! So true to T'Pol and Trip. They do have the physical down, don't they? :)
Wow. I hadn't read the story since Part 4 came out, so now I got to read it all in one sitting -- and it is great! The intimate moments are beautiful. I loved the way T'Pol finally opened up to Trip and told him of her addiction. There were lots of incredibly funny and wonderfully romantic lines in every chapter ... All I can is: wow!
While I enjoy most anything TNT NC17, I found this to be at times very confusing. I did not understand the sudden appearance of Clan Reed or how they fit into the fic.
As for TNT I would have thought the mission in Berchtesgaden was to modify history, not merely an excuse to engage in sex in a new location. No complaints from me on the smut, I always enjoy it, but I would have thought it would be secondary to the main storyline. For the most part it seemed really rushed.
For what it's worth, I really enjoyed the way you wrote TNT; I feel they were very much in character.