Cry Havoc- Pt. 3

Cry Havoc

By ShouldKnowBetter

Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer in Part One

Part Three

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Tucker finally tracked T’Pol down to the auxiliary computing facility where, after the briefest of glances, she proceeded to ignore him. He sighed and came to stand behind her, hands resting lightly on her shoulders. “Still mad at me?”

She shrugged him off. “You are mistaken, commander. Vulcans do not become ‘mad’.”

This was bad. “The hell you do.” He tried to turn her around but she demonstrated just how much stronger than him she really was; it was like trying to move a ten tonne rock. “T’Pol, c’mon now, don’t be silly.”

“Silly!” She shot him a furious look then directed her attention back to the screen before her, no doubt infuriated by her weakness in responding. “It is not I who am proposing to risk my life in a display of bravura that will serve no useful purpose.”

“We have to …”

T’Pol whipped around to face him then pretended that she had needed to cross to the other side of the room. “There are other ways to find the evidence you seek.”

“Like what?”

“Waiting until Enterprise and Pushkin reach Earth. A full investigation will no doubt be undertaken at that point – by professionals, trained in extracting facts from reluctant or ignorant witnesses.”

“And if we’re at war by then?” Without a trace a trace of his usual lightness, Tucker moved to T’Pol’s side again. “You’ve read the reports, you know how close we are,” he drew a deep breath, “and you know Earth isn’t guaranteed to win. You said it yourself – the Klingon Empire is a society totally geared to warfare. It’s how they work. Earth’s not ready for them. Maybe you Vulcans were right all along and we shouldn’t have gone out into space until we were ready to face the consequences of kicking over a few anthills but that’s what we’ve done. If proving it was Dexter who created this mess can prevent a war - even if it only buys us some time to prepare – then I’m gonna accept the risk. T’Pol,” this time she let herself be turned to face him, “it doesn’t mean I don’t love you, darling.”

He saw her swallow. “I … am still reluctant to lose you.”

Tucker laughed softly and pulled the curvaceous woman to him, rubbing his cheek against her hair. “I can buy that. I wouldn’t wanna lose me either.”

T’Pol had nestled her head into the human’s shoulder, but pulled back at that. “You are extremely annoying.”

“Yeah, but you love me anyway.”

“So you frequently tell me.” Cool hands cupped her face and a mouth fitted itself expertly over hers, the attention still most welcome even after ten months of regular – very regular - intimacy. T’Pol gave herself up to the pleasure, not just of lips and tongue caressing hers but the feel of Tucker’s emotions rising within her, clearer now that he was touching. He did often give her a headache but the enjoyment when they were together like this was sufficient compensation.

“T’Pol,” the breathless whisper tickled her ear pleasantly as she began to kiss his jaw line, “are you on duty?” She jerked back, eyes wide and furious. “I only asked!” She headed for the door. “Are you as angry as you were the other day?” T’Pol could feel laughter welling up inside Tucker as well as recognise it in his voice. “Only my back’s …”

“I have no intention of losing control.” She turned to glare at the man following her along the corridor. “For you, however, it is another matter.”

“Promise?”

Pushkin’s engineering team seemed glad to have Tucker back even if Dexter’s acceptance had been grudging. Some were even more pleased than others. One small blonde blushed furiously when Tucker allocated her to work with him on warp core modifications but despite her youthful prettiness Sarah Rommel was the nearest thing Pushkin had left to anyone of senior status. Reed had sarcastically informed Tucker that he could take advantage of the ensign’s complete lack of taste and pump her for information while Reed undertook a serious investigation. The engineer had reluctantly agreed, but only on condition that Reed didn’t tell T’Pol. So now Enterprise’s chief engineer was stuck in Jeffries tube with a pretty girl, attempting to make a half hour job last all morning while asking incriminating questions about the said girl’s captain. A couple of years previously he would have enjoyed one out of the three, but now he had to worry about the reaction of a jealous girlfriend who was considerably stronger than himself.

Left to his own devices, the straightforward American would simply have asked outright if Pushkin’s captain was a crazy, murdering, son-of-a-bitch, but Reed had insisted on tact and Tucker didn’t really do tact. Fortunately it was Rommel herself who gave him an opening. As she watched him deliberately and – he hoped – unnoticeably introducing several bugs into the plasma injector backup system, she asked tentatively, “Sir, do you know if it’s true that Vulcan has closed its embassy on Earth?”

“They’ve withdrawn non-essential personnel,” he corrected and used the girl’s distraction to overload a bypass circuit. “Damn!” That came out realistic as the sparks caught his hand; serve him right for damaging the ship instead of maintaining it. He sat back, sucking his burnt fingers and silently cursing Reed.

“Are you all right, sir? Should I get a first aid kit?”

“No.” He shook his hand and inspected the burns, wincing. “Make that a yes.” It hurt and the delay would be useful. She returned within seconds and he let her spread the anaesthetic gel over the damaged skin, watching as it firmed to form a protective film. “Thanks. Why don’t you see if you can sort out the mess I made?” With Rommel hopefully distracted and therefore off guard, he settled against the wall, thinking up a few leading questions. “Who told you about the Vulcans?”

“It was just a rumour going round. Commander,” she paused in what she was doing although didn’t look at him, “they’re leaving because Earth could be attacked, aren’t they?”

“They think so.”

“Do you think that?” This time she did turn to face him.

“It’s a possibility. I guess it’s our job to stop it happening.”

She returned to work. “All because of Pushkin.” Tucker held his breath. “Why did they fire on us?”

Life was never that convenient. “The Klingons say you fired first.”

“Captain Dexter wouldn’t do that.”

Was that defensiveness in her voice? “Your phase cannons were deployed. Maybe they thought you were gonna fire.”

“It was just a test.”

Definitely defensive and Tucker felt his heart rate increase. “Strange time to be testing your weapons.”

“That’s what Commander Bester said, but the captain …”

“Go on.”

Suddenly she whipped around. “Why are you asking all these questions?”

Tucker managed what he hoped was an innocent expression. “Just interested. If we go to war over this …”

“Stop it!” Rommel was furious although maybe tears weren’t far away either. “Captain Dexter said you’d do this, try and discredit us. I didn’t believe him – until now,” and she turned and crawled away down the tube as fast as possible. For a moment, Tucker considered following then thought better of it. She was too upset to listen to reason and he still had to fix the faults he had introduced, to say nothing of the modifications still required.

The extra-vehicular activity to dislodge the jammed phase cannons went smoothly, although to his shame Tucker found that he was soaked with perspiration when they came to strip off their environmental suits. He hadn’t realised he’d been quite that apprehensive about the jaunt; some of T’Pol’s logical objections must have taken root. Reed just grinned mockingly at him. “You’re out of shape, commander. I thought I hadn’t seen you in the gym lately.”

“Been busy,” and keeping up with T’Pol in bed took a lot of energy. “You found anything?” The answer was quick shake of the head and Tucker sighed. “We can’t spin this out any longer. Let’s get up to the bridge.”

The successful firing of Pushkin’s phase cannons cheered Reed up considerably. “Well, there you are, Captain Dexter,” the armoury officer reported after the trial, “offensive capability back on-line. Commander Tucker was correct in that you don’t have a full field of fire but better than nothing.”

Dexter nodded slowly, looking from one of Enterprise’s officers to the other and Tucker felt the hairs rising on the back of his neck. “We’ll be getting back to Enterprise, captain. Let’s go, Malcolm.”

“”No.” The flat denial startled both men but not as much as the phase pistol that appeared in Dexter’s hand, covering them. “Over there.” Shocked, they backed into the space indicated while Dexter passed the weapon to another of his crew. “Keep them covered, Rudi.” Then he approached the tactical station and Tucker reacted instinctively.

“No! You can’t …”

“Rudi!”

The beam from the phase pistol dropped the engineer and Reed sunk down under the weight of his friend’s body, too shocked to wonder if it was a corpse he was trying to cushion. “Captain Dexter, what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Taking action to protect my planet.” The bridge lights dimmed for a moment and Dexter smiled in satisfaction. “Report.”

“Enterprise has dropped out of the warp, sir,” the woman at the helm reported. “Port nacelle is venting plasma.”

“Good. Helm, drop to impulse and plot a course to allow me to target Enterprise’s communications array.”

“Aye, sir.”

“This is madness.” Reed was still kneeling at Tucker’s side, not tempted to get shot himself by doing anything more threatening than talk. He looked around at the others, fellow members of Starfleet who could not be allowing their captain to fire on her sister ship. “Are you going to let him do this?”

There was no response and Dexter smiled thinly even as he locked weapons on the defenceless Enterprise. “I’m sorry, lieutenant, but they know Archer’s sold us out to the Vulcans. Fortunately Pushkin’s still loyal to Earth.” He hit the fire button and the phase cannons pumped their payload into Enterprise. “Report.”

“Communications are down, sir.”

“Helm, set a course for the nearest Klingon colony world, warp 3. Engage.”

“You’re going to start a war!” Reed was incredulous even given their previous suspicions. “You’re going to start a full scale bloody war!”

“Rudi, shut the whinging pom up!” and Reed too was dropped by a phase pistol shot.

Archer and T’Pol had been reviewing reports when Enterprise was hit. Fortunately both were seated or the shock as the ship performed an emergency exit from warp would have catapulted them both to the deck, as it did to many less fortunate members of the crew. The captain didn’t waste time swearing, just headed for the ready room doors, T’Pol on his heels. “What’s going on?”

“It’s Pushkin, sir.” Mayweather sounded understandably confused. “She’d just completed test firing her phase cannons – then she targeted our port nacelle.”

“Damage?”

T’Pol was at the engineering console in Tucker’s absence. “Warp drive is off line and we are venting plasma.”

“Get a team started on sealing the leak. Where’s Pushkin?”

“Returning to our position, sir,” Mayweather responded and Archer’s lips thinned.

“Ensign Sato, hail them.”

“No response, sir.” She too sounded uncertain.

“Charge the hull plating.”

The ensign at tactical obeyed but reported, “Hull plating at 55% only, captain.”

“T’Pol?”

“There is secondary damage to some of the emitters.”

“So improvise.”

“That is Commander Tucker’s department,” but she began re-routing power.

“Pushkin’s moving into range, captain,” Mayweather reported. “Firing.”

Enterprise rocked and there was a burst of static from the comm. station that made Sato jump. “That was a direct hit to our communications array, sir. External comm.s are unavailable.”

“Pushkin’s withdrawing, sir. Going to warp.”

“Track her, Mayweather.”

“Aye, sir.” There was a pause. “Course … 147 mark 213. That’s … the Kreos system, captain. The Klingons have a colony on the fourth planet.”

“How large?”

“Last report … over twenty thousand inhabitants.”

Archer leant back in his chair, mouth set in a grim line. “Sub-commander, I want that warp drive fixed - and I want it soon.”

Reed woke and sat up in the same instant, probably not a good idea as his traumatised muscles protested vehemently. “What idiot invented the stun setting?”

“You’d rather be dead?”

“Not when you put it that way.” Reed shifted painfully so that he could lean against a wall. “Is this the brig?”

“I guess.”

“I never saw one from the inside before. Can’t say I care for the décor.” He finally focussed on Tucker who was sitting cross-legged on the floor opposite. “What are you doing?”

“Meditating.”

“Meditating? You?”

“Why not? Beats climbing walls. Did Dexter destroy Enterprise?”

Belatedly Reed remembered that the other man had been unconscious by then. “No! Disabled the warp drive and comm.s, then set a course for a Klingon colony.”

Tucker sighed, first with relief at their ship’s survival then in regret at the destination. “Crazy son-of-a-bitch is dead set on starting that war.”

“I can’t believe his crew obeyed him.”

“I can.” The engineer’s eyes had been on his folded hands but now he raised them to stare at Reed and the Englishman was surprised at how calm the volatile man appeared. “What would you do, Malcolm, if Cap’n Archer gave you what seemed like a real weird order?” There was no immediate answer and Tucker smiled thinly. “Yeah, you’d do what I’d do – follow it.”

“But firing on another Starfleet vessel …”

“Dexter’s got them convinced we sold out.”

“We have to stop him!”

“How? This is a well designed, Starfleet engineered brig. You’re not meant to get out.”

“You’ve not got any micro detonators on you, I suppose?”

“You’re the armoury officer.”

“So we’re just going to sit here while Dexter catapults us into war?”

“Cap’n Archer’ll come after us.”

“Enterprise was venting plasma! How long will that take to fix?”

“Dunno.” Tucker raised his hands to scrub at his face. “I dunno, Malcolm. But if you believe in anything … maybe this is a good time to start praying.”

Archer was again in his ready room, this time reviewing Dexter’s service record to see if there was any information to be gleaned about his combat weaknesses, when he was hailed from Engineering. “Go ahead, sub-commander.”

“Warp drive has been restored, captain. However, I have concerns over its durability.”

“We’ll worry about that when it happens. What about comm.s?”

“The entire array must be replaced. Repairs cannot continue while we are at warp.”

“Then leave it and get up here. I want as much information as possible about what’s ahead of us. Archer out.” He pushed the frustratingly unrevealing reports to one side and headed for the bridge. “Ensign Mayweather, set a course after Pushkin and engage at warp 4.5.” He let the young man complete the task then asked, “How long for us to come up with them?”

“Four hours twelve minutes, captain, assuming they don’t alter their initial velocity.”

“A six hour start,” Archer muttered, mostly to himself and Mayweather looked around.

“We’ll be there in time, won’t we, sir? Pushkin will still be two hours from the Klingon colony when we catch them.”

“But into an area of space where they can expect to encounter Klingon ships. One shot could be all it takes.”

Reed glared resentfully across the small cell to where Tucker was sitting peacefully – or just possibly dozing. An attempt to teach Reed to meditate had ended acrimoniously, leaving the Englishman to grow increasingly tense. A sudden change in the feel of the ship penetrated his sulk and he aimed a kick at Tucker. “Commander!”

“Hmm?” Then Tucker’s eyes shot open. “We’ve dropped out of warp.”

“Just now.”

“How long have we been in here?”

“It must be at least five hours.” The faintest of vibrations through the floor and the armoury officer and engineer regarded each other unhappily, differences forgotten. “Phase cannons deployed.”

There was a subtle change to the lighting. “Hull plating’s charged.”

“Damn it!” Reed’s frustration exploded into anger. “Why didn’t he just kill us and get it over with?”

“Probably because he wants us to fix whatever gets broken.”

“Oh, right, we’re well known for …”

He broke off as the door unlatched and both men scrambled to their feet, tensed for action, until Rommel’s scared face appeared. “Commander Tucker.” She was clearly badly shaken and he drew her into the cell, a comforting hand on her arm as Reed went to check the area outside. “Captain Dexter … he’s sighted a Klingon ship.”

“And he’s preparing to destroy it!” Reed snapped. “Commander, it’s clear. Let’s go.”

Tucker kept his eyes on the young woman. “Dexter wants to start a war. Do you believe that now?”

Reluctantly she nodded. “It’s a freighter, not armed. Ashok … Crewman Patel … he objected and the captain shot him. I was there.”

“We have to stop him. D’you know how far we are from the freighter?”

“Maybe seven or eight minutes. Captain Dexter wanted them to see us coming, that’s what he said.”

“To make sure they have time to report who attacked them.” Reed was growing increasingly impatient. “Commander, come on!”

“What’s your plan, Malcolm?”

“Take the bridge. There are stun grenades in the armoury.”

“You’ve got five minutes. Take Sarah with you. Stay in touch.” They both still had their communicators.

“Where are you going?”

“Engineering. I’ll try to cut power to the weapons – and if we can’t stop Dexter any other way, I’ll blow the warp core. Are you going?”

Briefly, Reed started to protest an action that would kill them all then training and hard headed common sense took over. “Yes, sir.”

As the hours ticked by and Enterprise progressively closed the gap with Pushkin, Archer began to hope that they would catch up with the rogue ship in time; and if Dexter hoped that he could hold Archer to ransom over the lives of two of his crew, he was very much mistaken. Archer would regret the loss of Tucker and Reed for the rest of his life and grieve for them as sincerely as anyone, but he wouldn’t hesitate to destroy Pushkin if that was what it took to stop Dexter precipitating them all into a disastrous war. Then T’Pol reported calmly, “Pushkin is dropping out of warp.” She raised her head from the scanner. “In the vicinity of another vessel.”

“Klingon?”

“It would appear so.”

“What’s our time to intercept, Travis?”

“Fifteen minutes, sir.”

“Pushkin will be within firing range of the Klingon vessel within twelve minutes,” T’Pol informed them all and Archer swore silently.

“Increase our speed, ensign. I want you to come out of warp between those two ships.”

“Captain Archer,” the lieutenant manning the engineering station protested, “the warp engine is already running hot. If we …”

“It’s a risk I’m prepared to take, lieutenant. Hoshi, do we have short range communications yet?”

“Sort of, sir, but only very short range. We’re not in hailing distance yet.”

“As soon as we are, patch me through to Pushkin. Ensign,” he turned to Reed’s replacement at tactical, “charge the hull plating and bring weapons on line.” They could only wait and Archer took advantage to move over to the science station. “T’Pol, can you tell if Trip’s alive?”

“Sensors are unable to discriminate one individual at this range.”

“That’s not what I meant. You two are bonded in some way. Is he alive?”

She stared back, expression unreadable. “I do not know.”

The captain drew a quick breath and admitted to himself that the question had probably been out of line. Just because T’Pol wasn’t showing any sign of worry was no reason to try to alleviate his own fears.

They were two minutes away and the woman at engineering was becoming increasingly frantic in her pleas for Archer to slow down when T’Pol remarked, “Pushkin’s weapons have been powered down.”

At the same moment, Sato said, “They’re in hailing range. They’re responding.”

Immediately an image of Pushkin’s bridge appeared on the view screen, dominated by a furious Dexter. “Archer!” he roared. “Damn you and your treacherous crew. I should have killed them. Killed you all.”

“Captain Dexter.” Archer was on his feet, trying to pitch his voice to cut through the other man’s hysteria. “Back off from that freighter.”

“But we have to destroy them, Jon.” In a stomach-wrenching change he had gone from raging to dead calm. “All of them. War’s the only answer.”

“War’s never the answer. Move Pushkin away.”

“We’re in position, sir,” Mayweather reported sotto vox and Dexter must have received a similar report for his mood changed again.

“Don’t stand in my way, Jon, or I’ll destroy you too.” The screen went dark and Sato shook her head.

“They’ve cut the channel, captain.”

“Try hailing Commander Tucker. It sounds as if he and Reed might be on the loose over there.”

Things were starting to go wrong for Tucker. He had made it to auxiliary control with an ease that surprised him until he remembered that Pushkin was operating with a skeleton crew, and been able to gain control of a number of key systems. But now someone with a higher security clearance was cutting him out and there appeared to be an assault team determined to break in. “Tucker to Reed.”

“Go ahead.”

“Tell me you’ve taken the bridge.”

“Sorry, sir. They’ve erected a force field across the access shaft.”

“Well, you invented the damn thing! Get rid of it.”

“I’m trying, sir.”

“Try harder! I’m running out of ideas for not killing us.” His communicator bleeped to indicate an alternate call and he jumped, switching channels eagerly. “Enterprise?”

“Trip,” as usual Archer sounded confident and unconsciously Tucker relaxed just a little, “what’s your status?”

“I’m in auxiliary control. Malcolm’s trying to get to the bridge but we’re running out of options.” There was the sound of an explosion against the door and Tucker ducked instinctively, seeing the buckled metal when he straightened.

“Trip?”

“I’m OK but they’re nearly in. They still think we’re the bad guys.”

“Can you de-polarise the hull plating?”

“No. Dexter’s shut me out.” He glanced at the one path he had managed to keep open; Dexter didn’t think he’d use it. “I can activate the self-destruct.” There was no immediate reply and Tucker winced as he noted the manoeuvring thrusters power up. “Cap’n, he’s gonna ram you. A direct impact on a warp nacelle and she’ll blow.” He could hear Archer giving crisp orders to Mayweather at the helm and more to tactical and felt Pushkin shudder as she was hit by her sister ship’s phase cannons. “Cap’n?”

“Not yet, Trip. We’ve still got other options.”

Another explosion from the direction of the damaged door sent Tucker down behind the console again and this time he stayed down as projectile weapons’ fire arced over his head; the Klingons had removed all Pushkin’s store of advanced weaponry. “Hey! Don’t use those things in here! You’ll damage something.” The protest was instinctive and he certainly hadn’t expected a response, yet he got one and a very tentative one at that.

“Commander Tucker?”

“Yeah.” He resisted the urge to ask who the hell else they had expected and cautiously stood up; T’Pol would later accuse him of being far too trusting. “Harry?” It was one of Pushkin’s engineers heading up the security detail, a man who had worked shoulder to shoulder with him for days. “Would you consider pointing that weapon elsewhere?”

Contritely the man jerked the gun up, as did the two behind him. “Sorry, sir.”

“Right.” Tucker’s mercurial temperament bounced back to optimism. “Let’s get to Engineering and stop this before we all get killed.” He led the way at a run, hailing Enterprise as they went. “Cap’n, some of Pushkin’s crew have come to their senses. I reckon if I can get into Engineering I can cut main power.”

“Try it.” Archer’s voice was strained. “We’re taking damage here.”

Archer hadn’t been exaggerating. Enterprise and Pushkin were too evenly matched for comfort and Dexter didn’t care what he did to his own ship, nor about the risks he took with his crew’s lives, as long as he could destroy Enterprise. Then his next target would be the Klingon freighter which had retreated to a safe distance but was not running away. Enterprise had lost warp power soon after the battle began when the over-stressed warp engine had shut down and now her hull plating was failing and her weapons no longer doing much to slow Pushkin down. All Travis’ skill couldn’t keep Enterprise from being crippled before much longer. Grimly Archer was starting to acknowledge that destruction of Pushkin from within might be his only option when Tucker’s news about the change of heart of some of Pushkin’s crew had made him delay the order. Then barely five minutes later Pushkin’s under body caught Enterprise’s upper decks and the impact and a series of explosions flung them all to the deck as the lights went out. Archer dragged himself up as the emergency lights flickered reluctantly on and looked around his wrecked bridge, hardly registering the pain from a broken wrist. T’Pol was crawling back to her station, green blood trickling down the side of her face, but Mayweather was sprawled motionless on the deck in front of the helm and no one was stirring by tactical. Furious, Archer stumbled over to take the helm himself but it was dead. “What’s our status?”

“We have emergency power only.” T’Pol sounded shakily unlike herself. “Hull plating and weapons are off-line. Hull breaches on decks 2 through 5. Emergency bulkheads have closed.”

“Comm.s?”

“Possibly.”

A quick look showed Archer that the Vulcan woman was clinging tightly to her console, holding herself up with difficulty. He took a moment to guide her into a chair then turned to the comm. station where Sato was back in place although looking very shaken. He activated the channel himself. “Trip?”

“Cap’n. You OK over there?”

“No. Trip, it’s your call now. Do what you have too.”

“Yes, sir.” Archer thought he heard the other man draw a breath to add something but all he did was sign off. The captain did the only thing left to him and began to check on the status of his injured crew.

Archer’s call caught Tucker only a few metres from the doors to Engineering and tied his guts into knots. His ship, his captain and his lover were all in trouble and if the only way to save them meant dying himself he could do that, but he really didn’t want to. “OK,” he halted by the door and grabbed a couple of micro-detonators from his fellow engineer. “Harry, open that door on my mark. You two, as soon as it opens, take out the overhead power conduits – and try not to hit me. Go!”

The doors opened and Tucker dived in, rolling to one side as those behind him began to blast the power conduits. Hopefully they wouldn’t do a great deal of damage but should keep everyone’s attention away from he was doing. There was always a chance that the rest of the engineering team would respond to reason and/or authority but he didn’t have the time to find out. The detonators locked onto the dilithium chamber and he set the minimum delay and ducked for cover, yelling for anyone who might be listening to do the same.

The resultant explosion caused more damage than the Klingon incursion and sent acrid smoke swirling through the compartment but it certainly took out main power. Coughing, Tucker pulled out his communicator. “Malcolm? Is that force field down yet?”

“Yes. What’s happening?”

“Just get the bastard. He’s still got some power. He could re-route to charge weapons.”

“Acknowledged. Reed out.”

Tucker sat back against the wall and tried to catch his breath. This was a really bad day and even if they survived it would take weeks to fix both ships. He was fed up with fixing the mess caused by other people.

Reed’s satisfaction when the force field went down shocked even him. He shouldn’t be feeling such pleasure at the fact he could now go and kick hell out of the people who had imprisoned him, but on the other hand, those same people had clearly hurt Enterprise or Trip wouldn’t be so irate and that was not acceptable to Malcolm. He could justify being up for this assault and so he threw the first of the stun grenades himself and was the first onto the bridge; there was no way he was going to give Dexter the opportunity to shoot at anyone under his command, even if she did fancy Tucker.

Reed could probably have been less hyped up and still succeeded. The stun grenades had the desired effect and when he charged onto the bridge only the man at tactical still had enough of his wits to shoot back and that with very poor aim. The armoury officer dropped him, pleased to note that it was the same man who had shot himself and Tucker, then secured the rest with Rommel’s help, leaving Dexter to last. The captain stirred as the restraints went on and Reed indulged in some uncharacteristic gloating. “The game’s over, captain, and you lost.” Still dazed, Dexter only glowered back and closed his eyes.

Any satisfaction Reed felt dissolved when he turned to abort whatever course Pushkin was on and caught sight of Enterprise on the main view screen. Even a visual inspection indicated that the ship was badly damaged. He halted Pushkin relative to Enterprise then hailed his own ship.

“Malcolm,” Archer sounded relieved, “what’s your status?”

“I’ve secured the bridge, captain, and Commander Tucker’s in Engineering. I don’t believe there’ll be any more trouble from Pushkin’s crew.”

“See that there isn’t. Malcolm, I want you to stay on Pushkin and assess whether or not she can be repaired again. I’m pulling Trip back to do the same for Enterprise. He’s to bring Dexter with him.”

“Yes, sir.” Reed hesitated, grimacing at his need to know. “Sir? Did we do enough?”

“I don’t know, Malcolm. That’ll be up to the Klingons. I’ll …”

“Captain!” Reed had been keeping an automatic watch on the sensor output. “There’s another ship dropping out of warp.”

“I see it.” Enterprise’s view screen was still operational and Archer could see the ominous shape of a Klingon warship gliding towards them.

“Pushkin still has weapons, sir, if Mr Tucker can restore power to them.”

“Not this time, lieutenant. Neither one of us is any condition to fight. We’ll see what talking can do. Enterprise out.”

On Enterprise’s bridge, Archer turned to Sato. “Hail them.” It was a relief when an image formed in front of him. He had feared that the Klingons might simply blast the two Starfleet vessels without pause. “I’m Captain Jonathan Archer of the Earth ship Enterprise.”

“Archer.” It sounded as if the name was known. “My name is Huron of the house of Morg, captain of the battle cruiser Grelik. You violate our territory and threaten our ships. That is an act of war.”

“I had a reason for being here and it didn’t involve attacking your shipping. I’m afraid, Captain Grelik, that one of our captain’s has been acting without orders. I followed him here to stop him.”

“Dexter.” That time there was a sneer in the Klingon’s voice. “The one who fires without warning like the dishonourable coward he is. Why would you stop him?”

“Because we now know that it was the Pushkin who fired on your ship. That’s as unacceptable to us as it is to you.”

“Why shouldn’t I destroy you both?”

“You could.” Archer gestured at the damaged bridge behind him. “My ship’s crippled. Pushkin’s not much better. But it wouldn’t be an honourable fight.”

“You have no honour!”

“Speak to the freighter captain. Ask him what went on here.”

The Klingon growled but Archer had struck the right note. “I will investigate – and then execute you. I will have no one say there is no justice in the Klingon empire. Until then, Archer, you and your crew are my prisoners. My warriors will board your ship. Resistance will be punished. Give your orders accordingly. Huron out.”

Archer didn’t like it one bit, but there was nothing else he could do. They just couldn’t make a fight of it, but being at the mercy of Klingon justice was not a happy prospect.

Enterprise’s crew were herded into the cargo bay where at least Archer could keep an eye on them all and Phlox could perform first aid on those injured in Pushkin’s attack. Fortunately there had been no further casualties; the Klingons had done some pushing but nothing worse. It was not long before the crowded room became even more congested as the remnant of Pushkin’s crew was thrust in, rather more roughly. Archer was relieved to see Tucker and Reed with them and the pair made their way over to where their captain was sitting with his other officers as soon as they spotted them, Rommel tagging along behind.

“Trip, Malcolm,” Archer greeted them calmly, “you both OK?”

They nodded, although Tucker’s eyes were on T’Pol who was sitting beside her captain, legs crossed, back stubbornly straight despite the ugly gash beside one eye. “What about our people?”

“Three dead.” Archer’s flat tone gave away little of the rage he felt at that. “A couple more badly hurt. Apart from that, just bumps and bruises. Where’s Dexter?”

It was Reed who answered, since Tucker appeared to be locked in a silent battle of wills with T’Pol over whether she would allow him any sign of personal concern – or just possibly whether her pounding headache had weakened her sufficiently that she would give into relief at finding him still alive and hug him tightly. “They kept him on Pushkin.” Reed crouched down in the cramped space. “What’s going on, sir?”

Archer filled them in on their flimsy hope of survival, trying to find some humour in the situation as Tucker and T’Pol reached a compromise that involved sitting as close together as possible. The captain couldn’t be sure, but he was fairly convinced that it also involved some discreet hand-holding.

A couple of hours dragged by in almost complete silence then Tucker, who had been staring moodily at nothing for most of the period, said abruptly, “What d’you think made Dexter snap, cap’n?”

Archer sighed, shaking his head. “I’ve been asking myself the same question and I don’t have an answer. If there was any previous sign of instability, he’d not have been out here.”

“You want my opinion?”

Tucker’s captain managed a tired grin. “I think I’m going to get it anyway.”

“Dexter made a mistake. Maybe he panicked. The rest was just an attempt to save his own butt.” The engineer’s voice hardened. “He was prepared to start a war rather than admit he made a mistake.” T’Pol, who had finally settled with her head on Tucker’s shoulder after an order from Phlox to rest, stirred and he raised a hand to stroke the back of her neck in apology for the burst of anger that had disturbed her.

“You could be right.”

“I don’t like killing.” Tucker was still absently caressing the woman leaning against him. “Soval’s the only one I ever really wanted to kill. Well, maybe T’Pol too when that pollen got to me. But if you stood Dexter in front of me now and put a phase pistol in my hand, I’d pull the trigger and not lose a minute’s sleep over it.”

Archer couldn’t think of an answer to that one.

The doors to the cargo bay opened and two armed Klingons appeared, barking a question. Sato winced. “They want you and the sub-commander, captain.”

Archer rose to his feet. “Tell them I’ll go with them but T’Pol stays here.”

The response was clearly negative. “They won’t hear of it, sir. They said to hurry up or they’ll start shooting.”

Frowning Archer looked down to find T’Pol awake and looking back at him, a little more focussed then she had been earlier. “Then I guess we’d better go, sub-commander.”

Tucker helped the Vulcan woman to her feet and kept a possessive arm around her waist when she swayed although this time his eyes were on Archer’s, concern clear – and not just for his lover this time. “Cap’n …”

Archer squeezed his friend’s arm, offering both comfort and confidence. “Get them safe back to Earth, commander.” He still hoped that the Klingons would accept his head if need be and let his crew go free. “Call in the Vulcans to help if you need to. Good luck.” He gave Tucker a brief, affectionate shake. “Don’t forget to feed Porthos. T’Pol?”

She cast one quick look at Tucker then reached up to press two fingers to his mouth and stepped away, accepting Archer’s steadying hand under her arm as they began to pick their way towards the doors. Tucker watched them go, teeth gritted as he struggled not to show too much of the grief and apprehension he felt in front of the remaining crew. Jon had left him in command and if it was the last order he ever received then he would do his damnedest to live up to his captain’s faith in him.

Enterprise’s bridge was full of Klingons, Captain Huron occupying the command chair. He didn’t look up from the ornamented, double bladed knife he was playing with although he clearly knew that Archer and T’Pol had arrived. “Will your government believe what Dexter did, Archer?”

“Backed by the evidence we have, yes.”

“My government does not believe that.” He swung around. “It thinks you have no honour, no justice, so I am authorised to exact justice here. Klingon justice.”

“Which means?”

The other captain barked an order in Klingon and the man at Sato’s station hit a control, changing the view screen to show Pushkin’s bridge. Directly in front of them, Dexter was tied to his command chair, expression becoming even more frantic as he saw who was watching him. “I am Huron of the House of Morg. Hear the judgement of the Klingon Empire. We find Dexter a coward, a liar, a murderer, without honour. For his crimes against Klingon citizens the penalty is death. A coward’s death, not in battle but in shame.” He paused. “You witness this, Vulcan? We know Vulcans do not lie. You will report my words.”

“Very well.” T’Pol could have been agreeing to have salad for lunch and Archer was struggling to think of a rational protest. He tried but it was almost for form’s sake as he watched the struggling figure of Dexter, clearly shouting although there was no sound.

“Captain Huron, I must object. Captain Dexter has the right to a trial. I assure you that if you allow him to return to Earth …”

The Klingon made a slashing gesture with one hand, most effective when one was holding a large knife. “He has been tried. You think we are barbarians to execute even cowards without trial?” He looked straight at Archer who saw with surprise that there was no satisfaction in the Klingon’s expression. “Justice will be done today.” Huron turned back to the view screen and again gave an order in Klingon.

This time it must have been routed to his own ship for the shots that rocked Pushkin did not come from Enterprise. They saw Dexter struggle even more violently as his ship began to fail around him then there was a massive explosion and the view screen cut back to show space and Pushkin’s final disintegration.

Huron waited until it was over then pushed himself up. “That was justice, Captain Archer.” He moved towards the exit, his own people following. “You have twelve hours to make repairs then you will vacate Klingon space with all haste. If I find you here after that, I will destroy you.” He paused at the door for one final observation. “War will come between our people. I will see you in battle, Archer.”

Enterprise just managed to limp out of Klingon space within the timeframe allocated then as soon as long range communications were back on-line Archer swallowed his pride and called for help. His ship had taken a beating and Tucker had reluctantly been forced to admit that he couldn’t get her even part way functional again without access to docking facilities. They just had to wait for the Vulcan cruiser that had responded to their distress call to come and give them a tow. It was humiliating but it was better than being dead and it gave Enterprise’s weary crew a chance to rest after having again been forced into a series of double and triple shifts to jury-rig a damaged ship.

When Archer finally convinced himself that there was nothing further to be done but wait and took himself to the mess hall in search of sustenance there were still a number of occupied tables, filled with small groups talking quietly. The captain joined the smallest and quietest group where Tucker and T’Pol were sitting beside each other, sharing a large slice of pecan pie – chef believed in providing comfort food – although T’Pol’s hard stare suggested to Archer that it was probably wise not to mention that he had seen her allowing Tucker to feed her. “Shouldn’t you two be in bed?”

“It’s a plan,” Tucker agreed, “but when Travis told me that chef had made pecan pie …” He broke off with a shrug and ate some more with evident enjoyment.

“Did you speak with Admiral Forrest, captain?” T’Pol enquired and Archer nodded.

“He didn’t say much.” He shook his head. “For which I can’t say I blame him. Starfleet will want to review the evidence.”

“Are we gonna apologise to the Klingons?” Tucker asked through another mouthful and earned himself a disapproving look from T’Pol.

“I hope so but even if we do it might not be enough. Klingons hold grudges.”

“So it could still be war?”

“Let’s say it’s a definite maybe.” Archer shrugged apologetically at his friend for not having better news. “Our orders are still to return to Earth.” He poked unenthusiastically at his own meal. “I still can’t credit what Dexter did. There’s a responsibility that goes with command. Dexter abused that.”

“He was one man, Jon. He doesn’t represent all Starfleet.”

“But one man in a position of power. Trip, what would you do if I made a mistake like that?”

“You wouldn’t.”

“I’m human. We make mistakes. What would you do?”

“Kick shit out of you for letting me down.”

“As a friend?”

“Sure.”

“And as an officer?”

There was a longer pause this time and Tucker finally grimaced. “I told Malcolm I’d obey you. I think I still would.”

“That,” T’Pol announced dryly, “is why the Vulcan High Command felt it necessary to insist on there being a Vulcan observer aboard Enterprise.” She met Archer’s questioning look calmly. “Rest assured, Captain Archer, that in such a situation I would not allow loyalty to override common sense.”

The captain grinned, looking down at his plate then up to his first officer again. “I’m glad to hear that, T’Pol.”

Tucker yawned and offered the final piece of pie to T’Pol who glared at him, practically snatching the fork to deal with the offering without assistance. “I’m gonna get some rest before that Vulcan ship turns up. ‘Night, cap’n.” He held out a hand to T’Pol and Archer watched another silent contest which Tucker apparently won as the woman reluctantly placed her own in his. It was probably fortunate that she didn’t see the impudent wink Tucker sent Archer as they headed for the door.

Archer turned his attention to his meal with a shake of his head, at once amused and saddened. Developing the sort of inter-species relationship that Tucker and T’Pol had been able to sustain for some time now despite the cultural differences between them had to be more constructive than trying to destroy each other, but he found it hard to believe that a human and a Klingon could ever come to such an accommodation.

end

*************

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A whole mess of folks have made comments

A wonderfully told tale! I love how you worked the beginnings of Klingon-Human hostilities into this . . . And you managed to write someone I dislike as much as Soval - which I didn't think was possible.

The Trip-T'Pol interactions were sweet, not overdone, and came at just the right moments. I also really enjoyed reading Malcolm's take on the relationship and his reactions to seeing the two of them behave more intimately. LOL!

As always, I'm looking forward to your next story with a great deal of anticipation! Thanks for a great story!

Excellent storytelling and characterisation!! I throughly enjoyed reading this and look forward to seeing more of your work-I found T'Pol and Trip very in character,with the push and pull between their personalities very believable.
Thank you!

Great story having a renegade starfleet captain trying to start trouble with starfleet.I really liked how Malcolm was involved in the Story .I really enjoyed the Trip and T'Pol's relationship continuing.I liked how yiu st up the intrigue the sabotuers.And the human Klingon conflict.hope you'll continue with this series of stories I really have enjoyed reading them,

Trip and T'Pol are so cute in this story! This is well-crafted although maybe a little more of Capt Dexter's background, why he did what he did would have been good, a little more interaction with the Pushkin's crew. Capt Dexter is a total nut bar though! Malcolm was good in this too. He's very difficult to write without just using cliches but you've done a grand job!

I really loved this and found myself gritting my teeth at Dexter. I wanted to know more about his past and motivations. I also wondered if any more of the Pushkin's crew had died with Dexter or whether they were all now on Enterprise. Loved the progression of Trip and T'Pol's romance and I was in stitches with the earlier observations of Malcom's irritation that all the women seemed to fancy Trip and not him. It would have been great fun if when he was in his action mode he had attracted more female attention. I look forward with relish to your next story in this most entertaining and intriguing series. Thank you very much for hours of enjoyment, Ali D :~)

Great series, great story. I loved all the characterisations of the Enterprise crew, especially our two lovers, but Malcolm was a riot, too!
Thanks for sharing this with us, and I'm holding my breath for the next part...

Wow. Excellent story. Excellent series of stories. Friggin' cool.

I really loved Malcolm's reaction to Trip and T'Pol in her cabin.

And the final conversation about following orders.

Nicely done.

Another excellent story!! I love the interaction between our favoirte couple. As always, great adventure for the Enterprise. This story also had back ground on T'Pol (re: Capt. Dexter) which was an added bonus.

I'm definately looking forward to more fan fiction from you, and as always, thanks for posting the entire story at once.

I'm so sorry to see that you have finished with this series. I have enjoyed it so much - well written, well paced, lots of imagination, and lots of fun (for me not the characters!). I hope you are thinking about a new series, either taking off from where this left off, or even starting at the beginning of Trip and T'pol's response. Thanks!

i enjoyed this so much! very well done. i loved your choice of words alot! "Get up, commander. And kindly control your anatomy." omigod, i laughed til i cried. :-)

Great job, as usual! The whole series rocks, but I particularly enjoyed this story because of the great character interactions. You have a wonderful way of injecting small but very realistic character moments into the sci-fi content, like the scene where T'Pol helps herself to Tucker's food without asking. I also loved how Tucker got scared the second he realized she had brought him coffee. :-)

It's obvious you have a very deep understanding of the characters as you see them and your writing conveys this understanding with such subtlety, that it makes it all the more powerful and fascinating to read.

Thanks!

I loved the scene with Malcolm and Trip and T'Pol in her quarters; very well done. All in all, a great chapter.

I'm really likin' this series!! Considering what we saw a few weeks ago in TATV, when I saw this quote below, I had to marvel at Bermaga's total lack of understanding of their characters!!

"His ship, his captain and his lover were all in trouble and if the only way to save them meant dying himself he could do that, but he really didn’t want to."

No kiddin'!!

I'm so impressed that you manage to balance the relationship stuff with actual plot. Good story with a nice sense of urgency and threat. I'm really enjoying your series.

Love, love, love this series. An excellent antidote to the trauma caused by TATV. Please continue writing despite the end of the show!

I have a question about Pushkin. You said this was after Season One, and the only sister ship available to Starfleet was Columbia, which was still in Spacedock. Was that an oversight? I love your stories, though. You keep the characters generally true to themselves, and I can "hear" their accents and vocal inflections as I read. Well done!