EP 8 "EROWOON: PART II" - ACT I
EROWOON STATION
Docking Level 3 started presentably enough.
Large bays contained a wide variety of
stylised, middle-range vessels and equally well dressed people busying in and
out of airlocks.
“If time is of the essence, why didn’t we take the travel
car?” Reb griped.
Leonard huffed, he was fed up of this argument.
“I’m not paying all that money just for the
privalege of saving my legs a bit of effort.
It isn’t that far, we’ll be there in no time.”
Leonard followed Reb’s lead, passing the consecutively
numbered bays. Reb didn’t reply – his
mood had fallen since he’d heard the K’Tani were again closing on them.
What the heck was so special about the ship
after all, he wondered?
As the two men stepped over bulkhead 753, the corridor
narrowed significantly and the lighting dimmed.
Each bay entrace now seemed a lot closer together and the general
décor a good deal more run down.
“Two two oh, you say?” Leonard tried to work out how much
further they would have to walk.
Reb continued in silence.
Presently they arrived. Reb
pressed the call key and fearfully glanced around the corridor.
Several murky types supervised the loading
of long heavy cylinders from a hover-trolly by station workers opposite.
Leonard wished he had brought a phaser with him at
least. Who only knew what Reb was
leading him into. The door shunted
open, but there was no one in sight.
“Hello?” Reb called, nervously.
He glanced back at the aliens opposite, but none paid him or
Leonard any attention. The Starfleet
engineer exchanged a look of concern with Reb who merely shrugged and
entered. The German officer hesitated –
this was crazy and against all protocol – but he had no choice but to back Reb
up.
Inside the door a short passage ended in a low archway,
leading the pair into a bay 20 metres square and about 30 metres high.
A rig carrying a multitude of general repair
equipment was suspended from the ceiling above Bel’s ship.
“Wow,” Reb commented.
Leonard nodded in silent agreement at the sleek white vessel floodlit
below the rig.
It seemed too small, too dainty for space travel, but given
the relatively short distance to Bel’s facility, Reb decided it was clearly
more than adequate transportation for her needs.
The gently contoured ship hovered above the deck by a metre or
so. She had a long, sleek, tapering
nose that swept back into curved wings and ended in a couple of powerful
looking, integrated warp nacelles – or this sector’s equivalent.
The fuselage was just wide enough for two
people to be seated at the helm and for compact storage and accommodation
behind.
Bel herself was standing to the rear of the vessel, hands
deep inside one of the impulse engines.
An open tool kit was at her feet.
She had shed her jacket, so both men saw her arms were streaked with
grease – recent and ground in. As she
tossed a hand tool clattering into the box beside her feet the bay doors closed
behind the two men.
“Welcome,” Bel grinned and held out a hand in greeting.
The men stepped forward into the bay.
Instantly a blue beam passed across and over
them from above. An alarm sounded from
Bel’s tool kit and a restraining shield suddenly surrounded them.
Bel quickly retrieved a weapon from her toolbox
along with the small sensor device, still beeping its warning, and approached,
scanning them more fully.
“Hey! What’s this
all about?” Reb demanded, unable to move his limbs.
Bel strode over and past them, shooting Reb especially an
aggrieved look. She sealed the door
then shot the lock, fusing the controls, ignoring Reb as he burned himself
loudly on the force shield. “Hey!
Bel!
What’s going on?”
“You were tagged,” she said in a condesceding tone.
“Fortunately for you I guessed as much.
Just stay still, we haven’t much time.”
She was busy stabbing her sensor device and
the forcefield changed density and colour to an intense green.
“This might hurt a little,” she said.
Before either man could react, the forcefield shrank and
passed through them, causing both to double over in agony.
Reb fell to his knees from the pain, though
it subsided quickly. Bel grabbed his
arm and hoisted him to his feet.
“Come on,” she pulled him across the deck toward the far
wall, picking up her jacket and tool set as she did.
There, she opened a crawlway tube and deactivated the security
seal just inside.
“What’s this all about?” Reb pleaded.
“Indeed, madam,” Leonard massaged his legs, still sitting on
the deck. “You seem to know a lot more
than you’re letting on.”
Bel clattered her way over to Leonard, agile if noisy on her
high heels. She offered him her hand,
which he carefully took and allowed her small but sturdy frame to help pull him
to standing. “For a handsome guy,
you’re pretty stupid,” she said.
Leonard raised an eyebrow in surprise.
“Now come on.” She crouched to
crawl through.
“But what about your ship?” Reb asked.
“I wish!” she scoffed, and disappeared inside.
* * *
Having crawled and crouch-walked for some ten minutes, the
three presently descended several levels via a rusting, slightly precarious
mainentance funnel and emerged onto another docking level.
Here, there were throngs of people in the
anti-corridors, along with much noise and smell.
No-one seemed to take any notice of their conspicuous
arrival. Leonard and Reb followed Bel
through the crowds, shouldering their way toward a horizontal cylinder shaped
corridor marked ‘Private!’ that was blocked by a shimmering forcefield.
Bel pointed a small pencil-thin object to
the side of the corridor entrance and the forceshield de-activated.
“Here we are then,” Bel chirped and led the men through,
re-initiating the shield behind them.
Leading down the darkening passage, Bel used the same code key to open
the third door on the left. A long,
very narrow corridor led down a flight of gently sloping steps to a set of
double doors. Reb felt well and truly
lost now. He wondered, if something
went wrong and he had to get back to the ship, would he make it before the
K’Tani arrived? His heartbeat increased
apace.
Beyond the bulkhead doors, yet another docking bay awaited.
This was substantially larger than the last
they’d been in. Indeed, there was room
for two other vessels alongside the main hulk of a starship parked in the
centre. The ship, essentially a number
of large, different sized cubes locked together, was encased by a dense metal
rigging of some kind, the whole affair sitting on four squat landing pad
cubes. The yellow and black paint of
the grid structure was chipped and skuffed, but otherwise the ship was a gleaming
midnight blue and peppered with oddments of alien technology beneath.
It looked mightily intriguing to Leonard –
and to Reb, the engineer noticed. The
would-be helmsman studied every surface, every piece of equipment to assess its
worth.
Movement caught their attention.
From behind the landing pads, six huge men half-dressed in
traditional docker gear emerged and milled around the steep gangway coming from
the underside of the vessel.
“Bel, where have you been?!” the oldest of the group said
emploringly.
“Peach, I want you to meet Mr Rebbik and..ah..” she gestured
to the dumbfounded Fantasy crewmen.
“Er, Leonard, Lieutenant Commander Leonard, of the …
Starship Fantasy,” the German said, not quite believing the massive, hairy hulk
greeting him was called ‘Peach’.
“They’re our new clients,” she said.
“Er, actually we haven’t made an agreement yet,” Leonard
corrected and launched into reading from his padd a number of negotiating notes
Jackson had supplied him with. “Now, my
Commodore has allowed me a budget of-“
“Yes, yes, yes – by now you know what this station would
charge you. Rest assured my bill will
be much lower than you’d find elsewhere,” Bel said.
“But I’d hoped to discuss terms, set an agreed price,”
Leonard frowned. “I don’t even know
what facilities your dry-dock has. Would
you at least let me see some blueprints or schematics?”
Bel glared up at him and spoke through bared pearly white
teeth. “Trust me, Lieutenant Commander,
we have everything necessary for a full Premium Class Refit and shake-down,
even for a ship of your size. You won’t
find any better in this sector.”
“Then can I at least set a pricing ceiling that-“ Leonard
began.
Bel’s head was already shaking rigidly from side to
side. “No can do, partner.
Not until I get a good look at your ship and
see what’s involved.”
“That’s understandable,” Reb nodded in agreement.
Leonard shot him a look.
“But…“ Leonard felt he was being coralled into a decision to
go with Bel rather than checking out any other vendor.
He looked at Reb, who pulled a face that
denied any assistance in this decision making.
Time was of the essence, Leonard knew, and they would be very unlikely
to find another dry docker before the K’Tani arrived.
The big man stepped between them roughly.
“What do you know about them?” Peach eyed Reb’s
faint lobes suspiciously, then gave Leonard the once over.
“This one looks like he’s wearing some kind
of uniform.”
“What I do know is they have the money to pay for a major
overhaul,” Bel tempted her crewman with the concept of a decent amount of work
for a while.
“And where are they from?
He’s made it clear he doesn’t know about local economy, and I don’t
recognise that one’s race,” Peach folded his arms and took a defensive stance,
his penetrating eyes flitting between each male.
“Er..” Bel toyed with her belt.
“Where did you say were from again?”
Peach and the others sighed with fatigue at what they
considered to be their mistress’s too trusting nature.
“The other side of the Vekarian wormhole, that’s now gone,
thanks to the K’Tani-“ Reb was interrupted by Leonard’s firm grip on his wrist.
“So do we have a deal or not?” Leonard asked impatiently –
but more out of nerves.
“That depends,” Peach looked around at his co-workers, for
moral support. An unspoken stand-off
appeared to be taking place.
Leonard suspected there was some kind of ongoing tension
between Bel and her crew. She appeared
to want to hold back, but they would not give in it seemed.
Bel tapped her feet in frustration.
Still the men continued to wait for an
answer.
“Okay!” Bel finally threw her hands up in angry
frustration. “They’re in trouble –
possibly! It appears that – maybe -
they’re being pursued,” Bel said.
“Fell Councillor?” a thin, pinkish hued man asked nervously.
“Bounty hunter?” a squat man with no neck grumbled.
“K’Tani,” was all Bel said, and hung her head.
Peach’s face fell, and immediately they all began shouting
stern protests while nodding in agreement with each other.
It took Bel a few moments to calm them.
“Look, I know what I’ve said in the past,” she nervously lit
a cigarette, blatantly ignoring the protocols of safe docking.
“About helping people in trouble, getting
involved in conflicts that aren’t my business.
But frankly we need the work.
You know that as much as I do.
And by all accounts, boy, do they need some work doing.”
“I ssay if the cash is right, then sso is the cusstomer,” a
thin, wretched looking creature suddenly appeared from behind the men to join
in the debate.
“You would, vile Cuss,” Peach spat.
“That’s all you ever care about.”
The creature hissed at the big man.
Bel indicated the new arrival to Reb and Leonard with a look
of amused contempt. “My accountant,
just ignore him.”
“Among many other thingss,” the creature corrected her and
slithered back into the shadows, offended.
“Listen, boys,” Bel pretended to ignore her odd but faithful
employee and adjusted her tone a little.
“Something in my heart tells me that these people are special-“
“Oh, here we go,” the second largest oaf along with the
others began to protest again. “Another
sob story. Save it, Bel.
We’ve heard it all before.”
“No, no, I mean it,” Bel shouted above the din, quietening
them somewhat. “They’ve got this big
ship, and a whole bunch of people and little orphaned kiddies-“
“Whoah, whoah, whoah!” Peach held out his giant hand.
“Stop with the tale of woe.
Trouble is one thing, Bel, but the K’Tani?”
The shortnecked man spoke again.
“The whole reason we trade out here is because of the K’Tani,
Bel.” This note struck a cord, Reb
noticed. Bel seemed almost tearful.
“Come to think of it,” Peach was deep in thought.
“If these people are from the other side of
the wormhole, then they’re now refugees, aren’t they?!”
“A wormhole that’s no longer there,” Reb reminded everyone
again. “Which means we’re kind of
trapped here on a ship currently in desperate need of a repair facility such as
yours?”
“But why would the K’Tani be interested in pursuing a bunch
of refugees beyond the Qovakian border?” Peach was trying to guess the
answer. “They must be after
something. Or someone.”
“The truth is, we’re not sure of that either, sir,” Leonard
stepped forward and stated honestly.
“It could have something to do with our ship.
Although originally from our corner of the Galaxy, the vessel
somehow came to the Outer Zone and fell into the hands of the K’Tani.
It’s been coated in a strange substance that
renders it effectively cloaked-”
“You should see it, guys,” Bel cut in and leant towards them
with more than just an interested glint in her eye.
And it seemed to be more convincing to Leonard than her previous
sentimental reasons. “I’ve never seen
the like. It’s really worth us getting
a closer look.” She tossed a discretely
deposited scanning device she’d used to take images of the Fantasy over to the
thinnest of the men, taller too with a shock of frizzy black and orange
hair. His clothes were covered with
small pockets, tools were thrust into these and larger items were hooked onto
an ample utility belt. The men all
looked over his shoulder at the scanner’s readings with interest.
There was a pause – unexpectedly, Reb thought.
Why would the cloaking substance make any
difference to these men if they were so fearful of any trouble coming their
way? Particularly from the K’Tani?
He wondered if the substance was valuable,
whether Bel was planning on studying it, perhaps trying to replicate it for her
own profit? Was it really worth more
than being trounced by the K’Tani?
“They were tagged,” Bel shrugged, disclosing the fuller
story, “which means they’re being observed on the station.”
“Then we could already be in danger,” the big haired man
said.
“Yeah, who did that to us, anyway?” Reb probed.
“I guess we’re already committed, then,” Peach nodded
solemnly to Bel, ignoring Reb. “But it
would be in everyone’s interest if we keep our contact to a minimum from now
on.”
“Agreed,” said Bel and turned to Reb sympathetically.
“I mean, I know you’re paying customers and
all. And we’d really like your
business. But we’d feel a lot safer
dealing with you back on our ship than here.”
“Well, ah, that’s where things get complicated,” Leonard
said. “You see, we were actually hoping
for your help. It’s just, my Captain
and a fellow shipmate have been taken hostage by the crew of another ship
docked on this station.”
“Hostage?” Bel frowned, taken aback.
“Who by?”
“They’re called Romulans,” Leonard didn’t want to go into
too much detail. “They’re also from our
side of the wormhole. Suffice it to
say, their intentions are not honourable, and we need to get our people out as
quickly as possible. K’Tani ships will
arrive here in just over two hours’ time.”
“And you don’t want to get station security involved,” Bel
guessed. Leonard nodded.
“Wise move.”
“Look, I don’t like any of this,” Peach stepped forward and
gripped Bel’s arms. “But you’re the
Boss. You know we’ll back you up.
When have we ever let you down before.”
The other men nodded in macho agreement.
Bel looked visibly moved.
“Thanks, guys,” she said. They
turned and went back aboard the ship.
“So,” Leonard asked sheepishly.
“Can you help us?”
Bel dropped her head and clasped her hands together, sighing
deeply. After a moment’s pause, she
looked up into Reb’s eyes – with such compassion, to Reb it felt like talking
to someone who’d been close to him for years rather than the brash femme fatal
he’d just met in the bar.
“Now I want you to understand me very carefully,” she said,
speaking slowly and quietly. “These are
dangerous times for everyone. There
aren’t many people in …The Outer Zone, as you call it, who are unaffected by
the K’Tani, whether now or as a result of their previous reign,” again there
was the almost tear, Reb noted.
“Did something-“ Reb began to ask but Bel merely talked over
him.
“Peach is right.
It’s a big risk to take on, but as you’ve heard, my men are prepared to
take that risk. I’d love to help, but
in short, we’re out of here. Right
now. Without delay.
Here,” she handed a dumbfounded Reb a small
pocket-sized padd-like device, its tiny display screen showing a set of 3
dimensional grid references and a countdown, brightly and quietly whirring
away.
“What’s this?” Reb asked.
“These are the coordinates where my dry dock will be for the
next two days,” Bel said. “Don’t take
the direct approach. And don’t bring
any unwanted guests. I’ll be watching
from a long way off. If you do, you
won’t see me for spacedust. Remember,
two days, and if I don’t see you there before the counter reaches zero, I’ll
consider our deal null and void.”
She turned to depart, leaving Reb agog with astonishment.
“But wait!” Leonard called desperately.
“Our Captain…”
“Is your problem,” she gave a short smile and wave and
disappeared inside her ship. For a
moment, Reb thought she seemed too small and dainty a creature to be commanding
such a huge ship and so many roughnecks.
The hatch closed with an ominous thud-click-hiss.
Reb half expected the ship to take off and depart right
there and then, but it just sat there on the deck.
Eventually, Reb turned to Leonard who was still looking towards
the ship with an imploring expression on his face.
“Come on,” Reb nudged the engineer.
“No point in wasting time here.”
* * *
ROMULAN VESSEL
Murak worried that he may have been seen talking to the
station urchin. He had managed to put
on a convincing charade of compliance with his fellow Romulans thus far, and
even managed to not betray important information about the Command Yacht and
the people upon it, appearing to despise them for their ‘humanity’
instead. He had not been lying, merely
failing to mention the entirety of his journey and his feelings on the matter,
so the scanners the Tal Shiar officers had used on him had not detected
anything untoward.
It wasn’t the first time he’d knowingly – and successfully -
deceived his colleagues. Although he
did not share their feelings, he had known for some time that his parents were
sympathisers with the reunification cause still in its infancy on his home
planet. On shore leave shortly before
his departure to the Outer Zone, his mother had even confided in him that she
had met with Ambassador Spock on several occasions.
This outraged Murak, who felt they had no respect for his
position in the Romulan star fleet and the danger they were putting him in.
It led to a huge family row and his storming
out of the house two days earlier than arranged.
He’d since calmed and become more understanding of their own
feelings, yet it nagged at him knowing that he would now probably have to wait
many months, if not years, to make his apologies.
He thought perhaps that by helping the Captain and Tactical
Officer of the Fantasy to escape, he’d feel a little less burdened.
Certainly witnessing the callous behaviour
of his kin, he had become convinced that it was the right thing to do, even if
it was treasonous.
There were only 17 survivors of a crew of 43 – he had
pitched in immediately, helping to keep the engines from dying too soon and so
winning the confidence of the very small crew.
The ship’s predicament was terminal, there was no doubt about it, but it
seemed its impending demise only sought to drive Chahleth and the other
Romulans forward in their plan to capture the Fantasy’s Command Yacht.
It had only been several hours since he had snuck outside of
the ship with a number of Romulans to bring a number of vital engineering
components aboard. In the busy trading
area in a passage behind a sleazy bar, he had managed to slip away briefly from
his colleagues and make the illegal exchange.
Murak had given the scruffy alien boy the equivalent of more than a week’s
wage as a cargo handler in the form of coralite crystal which he’d stolen from
his ship’s stores. This, along with the
two communicators he had retrieved from Chahleth’s office and the promise of
more money to the boy if he made the delivery to one of the Fantasy crew.
Murak had only hoped that the child wouldn’t
pocket the money and run, and more importantly, that they would understand the
message and act upon it.
Feeling more daring with each risk he took, Murak had then
urged his immediate superior, Rokesh, a stern science officer just a few years
his senior, to reassign him to repair a ruptured baffle plate.
Murak’s reason was that he felt if left to
deteriorate further, the seepage would soon give the station authorities cause
for concern. He showed her false
readings that indicated low levels of bertold rays leaking out into space, and
could permeate the ship’s hull and harm them in a matter of hours if it went
unchecked.
Murak was surprised when she agreed, given the likelihood of
total engine failure in several days and their expectations of being on the
Yacht well before then. His alterior
motive, of course, was that it was only three corridors away from the Captain
and the Ensign’s cell. More than
anything he wanted to assure their escape – even if it resulted in his own
death. They had shown him such kindness
and open acceptance since the K’Tani invasion, and he felt his greatest efforts
was the least they deserved after their mistreatment.
As Murak resisted the temptation to check on them, he
continued with the deception, actually repairing the baffle plate which had
merely buckled rather than breached.
For once he was pleased that his task would last several finger numbing
hours as it would keep him away from prying eyes and allow him to be ready to
act as soon as the opportunity arose.
Murak wondered how the Fantasy crew would liberate their
shipmates, if indeed they had got the message.
Furthermore, he wondered whether if Jackson would allow a rescue mission
given her obvious over-concern for the safety of the survivors.
As he focused on his work, he heard the distant shouting of
the Ensign, and felt a sick, sinking feeling in his belly.
Souveson was convinced he was a traitor,
perhaps also the Captain and maybe the rest of the crew once they found
out? No, he told himself, he trusted
the Christian. Then it dawned on him
with a terrifying feeling - for the first time he realised that by committing such
a grave act of treason against his people he would be putting not only him self,
but also his family in grave danger. A
moment of doubt washed across him. Only
the thought that the Romulans were doubtful to get any message back to Romulus
any time soon reassured him. No, he
thought, he must make the rescue attempt succeed, no matter what.
* * *
ACT 2