EMV Part IV. Chapter 3
ENTERPRISE - THE MAIDEN VOYAGE
BY SOLEDAD
For disclaimer, rating, etc. see the Introduction
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
EMV IV - EXILES - PART 3
Author’s note: Brownie points to those who realize where the device came from. Yes, it is very much canon; in fact, it belongs to the oldest parts of Trek canon ever!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
They just started their fourth month in the Class-D exile when - on one of his daily exploration tours - Reed came upon a relatively small, circular chamber. It had control screens all around the walls (all of which seemed dead at the moment) and a high-tech chair in the middle, appearing to be the right size for a human to sit in it comfortably.
And right above the chair, suspended from the ceiling on some sort of telescopic arm, hung the strangest device he had ever seen. Which was saying a lot, as he had seen more experimental technology than the average Starfleet officer.
At first sight it looked like a large, transparent helmet with many metallic appliances that gave it the appearance of a bizarre cybernetic hedgehog. He called Hoshi to interpret the markings on the armrest of the chair for him, which she could do… to a certain extent.
“I think this is some kind of computer interface,” she said. “Apparently, these feeder circuits connect directly to be brain of anyone who places their head under this helmet.”
“Is it automatically activated then?” He asked.
She shrugged. “We won’t know until we’ve given it a try.”
Unsurprisingly, he didn’t like that idea one little bit. “That could be dangerous. What if the interface is configured to be only adaptable to the species that built it? It could cause brain damage if connected to an incompatible brain.”
“That could happen,” Hoshi allowed. “But let’s face it; we won’t be able to reactivate this outpost on our own. This language - if it is indeed a language and not a highly sophisticated computer program - is so difficult that I’d need decades to knack it. We don’t have decades, Malcolm! Duncan Walsh certainly does not, and who knows when the automated systems are gonna break down without proper maintenance. They’re already incapable of providing the right temperature by default!”
That she’d call Reed by his given name - something that she’d hardly ever done before - clearly showed how serious she was. Besides, she was also right, and however little he liked the fact, he couldn’t deny it. They didn’t really have any other choice than to take the risk.
“All right,” he said,” but let me do it.”
She actually laughed! “Not a chance, Lieutenant. I am the language expert here, and that includes computer languages.”
“Which is why we can’t risk you having brain damage,” he argued.
She gave him an exasperated look. “But we can risk you being damaged, without a real chance to succeed? Don’t be ridiculous! Besides, my cranial implant will protect me… to a certain extent.”
He blinked in surprise. “What cranial implant?”
She looked at him, equally surprised. “You haven’t read my file? I’ve got a data storage device implanted in my brain; all exolinguists have. It helps us analyze the syntax of previously unknown languages and files away the full vocabulary of the known ones. You didn’t think I’d be able to speak forty-some languages using only my organic brain, did you?”
“I thought you were simply gifted.”
“I am gifted; extraordinarily so. The implant would not work for any random person. One has to have a unique affinity for languages. The principle is the same as with the universal translator: I still have to learn any new language I come across. The implant just enables me to learn them much faster; and to have the full vocabulary at my disposal, all the time.”
“So, does this mean that you’re basically a universal translator on legs?” He asked on a slightly sarcastic note.
“No,” she replied, refusing to be stung. “I am better. The universal translator doesn’t have instinctive understanding. I do.”
Reed nodded. That actually made a lot of sense. “I’m surprised that you were allowed to keep the device in prison,” he said slowly.
She shrugged. “The implant is not removable. Doing so would kill me. They didn’t want me dead. They wanted me alive and slowly turning mad in that windowless cell. Otherwise they’d have simply let me die after you'd shot me. It was a close enough call.”
That cut off the argument quite successfully, and Hoshi sat down in the chair. She was afraid, yes, very much so, but she also knew this was their only chance to survive here… or to eventually escape. If Jack had found a way to rescue them he’d already have done so. They were on their own, and she was the only one with a rat’s chance to connect with this… thing and live to tell the tale.
It was that simple.
As soon as she took the seat, an indicator on the armrest started blinking. Not having any better idea, she cautiously touched it; in the next moment the helmet-like interface slowly began to descend from the ceiling and only stopped when her head was fully covered by it.
Random lights began blinking all over the surface of the helmet - and that was when the pain hit with a force she had never experienced before. Sure, she had interfaced with computers a few times while her implant was being tested and fine-tuned, and it hadn’t been a pleasant experience, but this… this was magnitudes worse.
It felt as if white-hot needles had been rammed into her head at random intervals while she tried to navigate the sheer unmanageable influx of information to find what she needed. But she had to go on, had to at least map the huge database, to see where to return for the necessary details… if she managed to return.
She focused on environmental controls, healing and maintenance, filing away the information into her implant as fast as she could. Unbelievably, the pain was still increasing, and her face was wet… was she crying?
And then suddenly it was over. The interface went dark and was being pulled back up to the ceiling. She wiped her face and her hand came back red.
“What happened?” She asked, her voice croaking.
“Your nose started bleeding,” Reed answered. He was right beside her, stiff with anxiety. “I was afraid you’d get a stroke. I couldn’t think of anything else than hitting the control you activated the interface with. Are you OK?”
“I was better,” she admitted. “It was… extremely painful. Clearly, humans aren’t compatible with this system.”
“You should rest.”
As appealing as the idea was, she shook her head. “I can’t; not yet. The knowledge provided by the interface won’t last. I need to transfer the information to a PADD before it expires.”
The frown line between his brows looked as if it’d been dug in with an ice pick. “You mean you took such a grave risk for nothing?”
“I believe the original operators only interfaced with the control system when they had a particular problem to solve,” she explained. “When that was done, the information was deleted, so that it wouldn’t overload their brains.”
“So, how long do you have to transcribe the data?”
“I don’t know; a couple of hours perhaps, if we’re really lucky. Possibly less." She passed a hand wearily across her aching forehead. "God, I’d murder for a cup of coffee right now!”
“I’m afraid I cannot provide any,” Reed looked apologetic, as though it was his fault somehow. “But I can bring you an analgesic and a power bar from the ‘pod.”
“That would be grand, thank you,” She wiped the rest of the blood from her face and started working at once. She'd clean up properly later. Time was an issue here, and she didn’t know how much of it she had left.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
In the end the memories lasted almost three hours before they’d begin to fade gradually. Hoshi managed to access a great many systems and mapped the pathways with the help of her PADD, but it was clear that they had barely scratched the surface.
“This was a good start, but not enough, not by far,” she said. “I’ll have to go back, eventually; but not just yet,” she added, seeing Reed about to protest. “I’ll need time to recover; and besides, we need to see if what I’ve learned will work.”
She started with recalibrating the environmental systems. It took her a few hours, but in the end she managed to raise the temperature to 20 degrees, which she didn’t count as tropical level but was acceptable as the human norm. The system also managed to provide hot water and properly warm meals now, which was a real luxury after a quarter year of bitter cold water and tepid food. They still continued sleeping together, though, warmth not being just a matter of physical comfort.
After this, Reed insisted that Hoshi should rest for at least a day, and she didn’t really resist. She still had a lingering headache - nothing compared with the pain caused by the interface but unpleasant nonetheless - so resting sounded like a good idea. He, too, took a break from his exploration trips, and the two of them simply lazed around for a day, luxuriating in the warmth, enjoying proper food, real, hot showers… and each other’s company without risking frostbites, should the thermal blankets slip off.
On the third day Hoshi started working on the medical equipment. That proved much harder to bring back online than the environmental systems. She wrestled with the redundant technology for several days, employing Reed’s help (after all, he was a passable technician), and a week after her encounter with the interface they finally succeeded. The machinery in the sick room awakened fully and went to work; and another day later Crewman Walsh woke up from his coma.
He was weak like a kitten, of course, after having lain on his back motionlessly for nearly five months and been fed through a tube by the alien machines. But But though he had some pressure sores that needed treatment, his mind was fairly clear, and there was hope that with rigorous exercises to build his muscles back up he’d make a full recovery. Reed offered his help with the exercises, since he didn’t really have much else to do; and besides, keeping the crew fit was part of his job.
“I hope that when he’s back on his feet he’ll be able to help me with all this machinery,” Hoshi said. “He’s supposed to be a very good engineer; Charlie has hand-picked him, after all.”
“You mean Commander Tucker?” Reed clarified.
She nodded, smiling to find him still so very strict about ranks and titles. “It is so strange to think of him as a superior officer,” she smiled. “We all worked together at the Warp 5 Complex in the beginning: him, Jack and me. Charlie was like the big brother I never had. Even after I moved to Brazil to teach alien languages, we stayed in touch. Until… well, you know.”
Of course he knew. No-one on board Enterprise knew half as well as he did. The knowledge still pained him.
“I’m so glad Crewman Walsh is gonna make it,” Hoshi continued. “Not just because he’s got a wife and three kids back on Mars. I’m glad Charlie won’t have to write his family the letter. That would hit him hard. He always considered the people working with him as some kind of extended family. Hell, he was even devastated by Cooper’s fate, and she was a newbie!”
“Not to mention a menace,” the Lieutenant added darkly.
“That, too,” Hoshi agreed. “But Charlie still felt responsible for her. Fortunately, Jack offered to inform her parents himself.”
“What was it like to work with the Captain and the Commander, back then when they weren’t the Captain and the Commander yet?” Reed asked, suddenly curious. He knew the official reports, of course, but having an insider’s view was something different.
“Adventurous,” Hoshi laughed quietly. “They were thick as thieves, always up to something; and they were more than willing to take other people with them. I’ll never forget that diving holiday we made to the Great Barrier Reef.”
Reed shuddered at the mere thought of a diving holiday. Not that he hadn’t been forced to participate in several such ‘holidays’ by his father, but he couldn’t imagine people actually enjoying such activities.
There was something else he wanted to know, though.
“Was Captain Archer always so… flirtatious?”
She laughed again. “Oh God, yes! In fact, he was a lot worse when his hands weren’t bound by the non-fraternization rule. Casual sex was for him a way to bond with people; like a handshake or a pat on the back for others. And he wasn’t choosy, either; male of female, alien or plant, animal or mineral… if they were gorgeous enough, he’d screw them, as Charlie liked to put it.”
“Including you?” Reed realized the question was beyond personal, but he was curious; and Hoshi would certainly meet the gorgeous enough criterion. He knew that first-hand.
She shrugged. “We did have a light-hearted romp, right before I’d been going to leave for Brazil. He’s quite insistent when on the prowl, and to be honest, I was flattered by his interest. It never changed anything in our friendship, though. Had Charlie been into men, it wouldn’t have changed their friendship, either.”
“It must have been… awkward, becoming his direct subordinate aboard Enterprise then,” he said slowly.
“Not really.” Her voice had suddenly gone flat. “That was in a different life; a life that ended in prison. He rescued me from there, but I’m no longer the same person I used to be. That Hoshi Sato is dead.”
You killed her, the unspoken addition hung between them, ending the conversation.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Crewman Walsh took another month to struggle back to his feet. At first he was shocked and confused by all the things that had happened while he’d been inured, but when he understood that getting away from this planet - and seeing his wife and children ever again - depended on them getting a distress signal through the interference, he went to work immediately.
And that helped a lot. He might have been just enlisted personnel, but - as Charlie Tucker had perceived - he was a damn good engineer, with an instinctive understanding for even previously unknown technology. (Which was the reason why he’d been enlisted in the first place.) While Hoshi was making frustratingly slow progress with the language of the station builders, Walsh joined Reed on his exploratory trips. Of the three of them he had the best chance to figure out what all that machinery was for.
And in the end, even though it was parsecs beyond Earth technology, he did figure it out.
“Those three mushroom-shaped outbuildings are basically grav-generators; extremely powerful ones,” he explained somewhen during the eighth month of their exile. “Those grappler-like extensions burrow deeply into the rock and mine liquid eysilium, which this entire complex uses as fuel, to provide artificial gravity… among other things. I believe the complex also serves to keep up the multiple EM-fields around the planet.”
“But what possible means might those EM-fields serve?” Reed wondered. “Aside from keeping any visitors out, I mean.”
“They could also serve to keep something - or someone - in,” Walsh pointed out.
The Englishman thought about that for a moment, not much liking the sound of it. “Are you telling me that somewhere on this rock something dangerous might be trapped?” Then he turned to Hoshi. “Have you found any records indicating that?”
She shook her head. “All I’ve found so far are technical instructions how to keep the complex operating. Its builders seem to have been extremely concerned about a possible breakdown, but I haven’t found the reason for it yet.”
“That is unfortunate.” His comment was extremely understated, as always. “We won’t be able to get off this rock, with or without help, as long as the EM interference is there. Can we find a way to shut the EM-fields down?”
Walsh shrugged. “I haven’t got a clue, sir, but in theory there should be a way, since it isn’t a natural phenomenon.”
“Yes, but can we risk to do so?” Hoshi asked. “The builders of this place clearly put up these fields to keep a grave danger under control. If we manage to shut them down - and this is a big if - we might let that danger loose. Can we risk uncounted lives just for the vague chance of getting away from here?”
“Now you sound like a Vulcan,” Reed commented sourly. “The needs of the many and all that rubbish.”
“I don’t find that principle rubbish,” Hoshi replied coldly; then she looked at Walsh in apology. “I know you wish to see your family again, Crewman, but can we really do this? If we find a way to do it, that is.”
Walsh looked from one officer to the other in tormented indecision. On the one hand, he knew she was right, of course. On the other hand he desperately wanted to return to his family if there was a chance.
Fortunately for him, the decision was taken off his hand by the sudden squawking of Hoshi’s communicator.
“Archer to away team. Do you read me?”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Reconfiguring the multispatial probe by remote control took longer than expected, even with T’Pol’s help. But in the end Vulcan knowledge and precision combined with human ingenuity paid off, and Charlie Tucker proudly presented the results to his commanding officer.
“You can give it a try, Cap’n. Let ‘em know that help's on the way.”
Jack felt a hard lump in his throat. If this didn’t work, they’d have no means to save the away team. He still might not trust Reed one hundred percent, but the man was a great asset to his senior staff, and Crewman Walsh had a family back home. And Hoshi… losing Hoshi would be like losing a close family member.
It felt like so much time had passed while they were working up here. With that damned temporal distortion in operation, how much more would have passed down there on that planetoid? If the away team had had nothing more to work with and sustain them than what was on the shuttlepod (even if they’d managed to land it in one piece and survived), they’d have died long ago, believing Enterprise had abandoned them there.
He forced himself not to think about the worse case scenario. There was still hope. He cleared his throat and made the call, trying to persuade himself - and failing - that his voice was not trembling.
“Archer to away team. Do you read me?”
At first there was just static, but then came a cry; they all recognized Hoshi’s voice, although it was an octave higher with excitement than usual.
“Jack, is that really you? We thought…”
“You thought we had abandoned you,” he finished for her. “We’d never do that. However, there’s a temporal difference between our two positions, caused by a gravimetric shear. In fact, for us it has been a mere four and a half days since you got lost. According to T’Pol, it must have been two hundred and twenty-six days for you. Send us a quick data burst of your situation and we’re gonna work on both ends to get you out of there.”
“If we can,” Charlie muttered pessimistically; then he looked at T’Pol. “When can we count on an answer?”
“It depends on how fast they can provide the data,” the Vulcan answered. “Once they actually receive the captain’s message, it will be up to them.”
“Let’s hope the probe won’t burn up all its fuel before that happens.” The engineer was prowling around like a caged lion. “I’m getting a really bad feeling about this.”
He expected a scathing remark about letting his emotions cloud his professional judgement (or, at the very least, a disapproving Vulcan eyebrow™), but it never came. Apparently, somewhere along the way T’Pol had actually learned to trust human instincts… to a certain degree anyway.
So, now they were waiting.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
“Seven months?” Hoshi repeated in shocked disbelief after they'd received the message from Enterprise. “We’ve been here for seven months, and for them it was little more than half a week? It’s not fair!”
“Temporal phenomena rarely are,” Crewman Walsh commented philosophically. “At least I was lucky enough to be unconscious half the time. What are we supposed to do now, sir?”
Reed thought about it for a moment, and then said they’d prepare the data burst the Captain asked for. “And send it to Enterprise for analysis. Perhaps T’Pol and the cow lady can come up with a solution.”
“They will need days for that; which means months for us,” Hoshi warned. “What are we going to do in the meantime?”
He shrugged. “The same we’ve been doing so far. The more we learn about this place, the more data we can send to Enterprise and the better our chances to get off this rock.”
“That would take too long. We’ll all die of old age before that happens.”
“Do you have a better idea?” Walsh asked.
“Yes. I’ll interface with the system again.”
Once again the suggestion was not well received by the officer in charge, whose glare was enough to scorch her. “Out of question! Doing so once was dangerous enough. Do you want to end up in a vegetative state?”
Hoshi rolled her eyes. “Of course I don’t want it. But let’s face it, Lieutenant; we don’t really have a chance. We need more information about this system, and I am best suited to get us that information.”
“I could do it,” Walsh offered. “I’m an engineer; I might understand better what I’m seeing.”
“No,” Hoshi said. “You’d have no protection; neither of you would. And you must think of Annie and the boys; they’ll need you for a long time yet. I have nothing to lose; all I have is my past, and that won’t be such a big loss.”
It would have been difficult to argue with that, since her future after her indentured service was still uncertain at best, and so the two men backed off, Reed very reluctantly. As time had really become an issue, now that they knew how much faster it was flowing in this sinkhole than in the rest of the universe, Hoshi returned to the control room immediately and put on the interface helmet, mentally asking for information concerning the EM-fields and how they were being maintained.
The second time the transition seemed easier. It still hurt like hell - like hot knives slicing her brain relentlessly - but finding what she needed went much faster and more smoothly. She briefly wondered whether - given enough time - the system would learn to adapt to her completely or she’d indeed end up vegetable due to frequent use; then she put away the thought and focused on the task at her hands.
When an eternity later (or rather after twenty minutes, in fact) she disconnected, her nose was bleeding again and the headache was debilitating. But she needed to save all the data she had gathered because she knew the knowledge would be gone in about three hours. Fortunately, Reed and Walsh knew by now how to go her to hand, and before the hard-won knowledge would fade, they could put together the data burst and sent it to Enterprise.
She was out like a light for the rest of the day.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
“Captain,” Crewman Baird turned around with his seat,” we’re receiving a data burst from the away team.”
“Finally!” Jack released a breath he hadn’t been aware he was holding. “Send it to the main viewer of the Situation Room and summon all senior officers there. Lieutenant Foster,” he looked at Reed’s second-in-command, “you have the bridge. Ensign Soccorro, take over Tactical.”
When ten minutes later the remaining senior officers gathered in the situation room, T’Pol was already analyzing the data sent by the stranded away team. Gerasen Gerasal was with her, and the two of them were conversing in rapid-fire Vulcan.
“Care to let us into the secret?” Jack asked with deceptive mildness.
Gerasen Gerasal turned to him apologetically. “I’m sorry, Captain. We didn’t intend to exclude you; or Commander Tucker. It’s just that I can discuss scientific and technical things much better in Vulcan. I’ve been speaking it at least a century longer than English.”
That made sense, of course, and Jack felt slightly ashamed. Gerasen Gerasal had never been anything than forthcoming, after all.
“What have you found out?” He asked.
The Viseeth looked at T’Pol. “You are the scientist. I’ll let you explain.”
“According to the data sent us by the away team, the EM-fields are being generated and upheld by three powerful gravitation generators connected by an automated computer system and fuelled by liquid eysilium that they extract directly from the planetoid’s mantle,” T’Pol began with scientific accuracy… only to be interrupted by Charlie.
“Wait a minute! Ain’t eysilium the stuff we tried to sample on that ice comet when we ran into the Ti’Mur?”
T’Pol nodded. “That is correct, Commander. It appears that the builders of the complex down on the planetoid have found a way to liquefy eysilium and use it as an energy source. As the outer layer of the planetoid’s surface contains large deposits of eysilium, the generators can keep running for an estimated six point seven four thousand years.”
“Our people can’t wait that long,” Jack said dryly. “Is there a way to shut down the generators and the EM-fields?”
“Every system can be shut down; one only has to find the right method,” T’Pol replied. “However, according to Ensign Sato, the builders clearly found it imperative that the EM-fields remain stable. There are warnings all over the system against tampering wit them.”
“Told ya,” Charlie said, addressing Jack. “This must'a been a defence measure against the fish monks to cross over.”
“Theoretically, that is possible,” T’Pol allowed. However, “we cannot extract the away team as long as the EM-fields are up and running. My suggestion would be to find a way to shut down the generators long enough for the team to leave but reset them at the moment Shuttlepod One has reached safe distance.”
“Aren’t ya forgettin’ somethin’?” Charlie asked. “That’s a subspace sinkhole out there. Nothin’ can escape it.”
“Not if it is a natural phenomenon,” T’Pol said. “Which, in this case it is not. There is a 92.6 percent probability that the gravimetric shear is also being created and upheld by the generators down there.”
“For what purpose, though?” Mayweather asked.
“To keep everyone or everythin’ trapped there that might cross over, despite the EM-fields,” Charlie realized.
T’Pol looked grave. “That is the most likely reason,"
“But how does that help us; or our people?” Jack asked.
“Oh, it does help us a lot!” Charlie Began warming up to the topic. “If they manage to shut down the generators, they shouldn't have any problems liftin’ off and leavin’ that rock behind.”
“If they manage to do so,” Mayweather emphasized. “Captain, if this complex is built on the same technology as the repair station was, it will be extremely redundant… and insanely complicated. How are they supposed to find the off switch?”
“The system allowed Hoshi to interface with it,” Jack pointed out.
“Which isn’t necessarily good news,” the helmsman countered. “She might end up as I did.”
“Unlikely, if she’s already interfaced with the computer successfully,” Gerasen Gerasal said. “If both the station and the complex down there were built by refugees from Sigma Draconis IV, which seems to be the best working theory right now, then they weren’t meant to take over organic brains by force. The Ancients, as they were called by the other inhabitants of the Sigma Draconis system, used technology that merged machine and organic operators. The operators were volunteers and highly respected by society.”
“Why would anyone volunteer for that?” Mayweather asked, bewildered.
“The Ancient operators worked in shifts,” Gerasen Gerasal explained. “Also, their brains were attuned to the computers, and thus not only did they not suffer any damage, the connection also extended their natural life span by centuries. Sources mention entire families that lived in symbiosis with their technology for generations. Of course, there was very little empiric data left after the ice age destroyed all civilization on Sigma Draconis IV and the Ancients fled to the stars, but the technology was supposed to cooperate with the volunteers.”
“Yes, but a human brain works differently than an Ancient one,” Doctor Phlox said. “Ensign Sato still might suffer brain damage, just because they aren’t compatible.”
“That is certainly a risk,” Gerasen Gerasal admitted. “Let’s hope that the Subcommander and her fellow scientists will find a solution without the need for Ensign Sato to connect to the system again.”
“… and that they’re gonna find it, soon,” Charlie added. “Don’t forget how much faster time’s goin’ for the away team. They’ll come back old an’ grey if we dawdle too long.”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
“Do you think they’ll find a way to get us off this rock?” Hoshi asked doubtfully.
She and Reed were still analyzing the data from her last excursion into the computer database, while Crewman Walsh was studying the generators, as far as the system allowed him.
“If they do, this is going to be a tad awkward,” he answered slowly. “Returning to Enterprise, I mean.”
She glanced at him from the corner of her eye. “Any regrets?”
Reed shook his head. “None. We did what we had to do to remain alive and sane. Besides, this has been my longest relationship, ever. How could I regret stability? It’s such a rare gift in these times.”
She didn’t know if she should laugh at this backhanded compliment or be insulted. She chose the first. “You must have quite the track record.”
“You have no idea!” Reed pulled a face as if he’d tasted something unpleasant. “Not by choice, though. I simply had to chicken out every time before it could have become something serious because of who - what - I was. It would have been dangerous for my prospective partner.”
“Because you talk in your sleep?” She asked matter-of-factly.
“I still do?” He was mildly shocked by that news. “Good Lord, and I had to go through special training to break me out of the habit!”
“Perhaps, given the outlook of our situation, you felt you could let go of things,” she said thoughtfully.
“Perhaps,” he agreed, frowning down at the PADD in his hands. “To be honest, I never felt so free in my entire life like in the recent months. I could be… just me, without any strings attacked. Not the son of Commodore Reed, not the Covert Ops agent of Starfleet Intelligence; not even the armoury officer of Enterprise… just me,” he fell silent, and then he added, after a lengthy pause. “I know it sounds weird, but this hasn’t just been the longest relationship I’ve ever had, it was also the most… comfortable one.”
“Because you didn’t have to pretend being in love when you weren’t,” she supplied. “After all, we don’t even like each other all that much. This has been a mutually satisfying arrangement, nothing else.”
“Oh, I do like you well enough,” he protested. “I just… I can’t forget that had I missed back then, you wouldn’t even be here now. And I can’t decide what makes me feel more guilty: the fact that I nearly killed you or the fact that you’re stranded here because I insisted on this investigation.”
“Be glad your aim was accurate, then,” she returned dryly, “and stop wallowing in guilt. That was then, in another life. This is now; and I wanted to come, to prove that I’m a competent, useful officer, not a frightened rabbit. The rest of it… well, it’s gained a life of its own, and I don’t regret it, either. We needed to hold to each other; but once we get back under Starfleet rules, it will have to end, and you know that.”
A pause. “Actually, as we aren’t in the same chain of command…”
“… it would still be unseemly and heavily frowned upon,” she interrupted. “My career can’t be ruined any more, but you could get in hot water over this. Not with Jack; he sees such things in a pretty relaxed way, but the brass do not. And your handlers at Starfleet Intelligence wouldn’t like the fact that you got involved with your target.”
She was right, of course. And she didn’t even know half of it. No-one on board knew about Section 31 and Harris, and in this case ignorance was life-saving. Keeping all this from Soccorro would be hard enough, and he couldn’t even tell where Soccorro’s true loyalties lay. No, it won’t be easy once they got back… if they could get back indeed.
Besides, what right did he have to expect her to forget what he’d done? What he’d been?
“The time we spend here remains ours, though,” he said. Maybe that was for the best, was all he was really fit for. Fuck and forget.
“And I intend to put it to good use,” she replied.
Then she took his face in both hands and kissed him, slowly and deeply, as if she wanted to suck the very life out of him - for the first time ever. All the time they had been intimate, she had refused to face him during sex; and they never kissed. Not a single time. But now their time of strange closeness was going to an end; it was the right moment to start creating memories for the long, lonely days to come.
~TBC~
BY SOLEDAD
For disclaimer, rating, etc. see the Introduction
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
EMV IV - EXILES - PART 3
Author’s note: Brownie points to those who realize where the device came from. Yes, it is very much canon; in fact, it belongs to the oldest parts of Trek canon ever!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
They just started their fourth month in the Class-D exile when - on one of his daily exploration tours - Reed came upon a relatively small, circular chamber. It had control screens all around the walls (all of which seemed dead at the moment) and a high-tech chair in the middle, appearing to be the right size for a human to sit in it comfortably.
And right above the chair, suspended from the ceiling on some sort of telescopic arm, hung the strangest device he had ever seen. Which was saying a lot, as he had seen more experimental technology than the average Starfleet officer.
At first sight it looked like a large, transparent helmet with many metallic appliances that gave it the appearance of a bizarre cybernetic hedgehog. He called Hoshi to interpret the markings on the armrest of the chair for him, which she could do… to a certain extent.
“I think this is some kind of computer interface,” she said. “Apparently, these feeder circuits connect directly to be brain of anyone who places their head under this helmet.”
“Is it automatically activated then?” He asked.
She shrugged. “We won’t know until we’ve given it a try.”
Unsurprisingly, he didn’t like that idea one little bit. “That could be dangerous. What if the interface is configured to be only adaptable to the species that built it? It could cause brain damage if connected to an incompatible brain.”
“That could happen,” Hoshi allowed. “But let’s face it; we won’t be able to reactivate this outpost on our own. This language - if it is indeed a language and not a highly sophisticated computer program - is so difficult that I’d need decades to knack it. We don’t have decades, Malcolm! Duncan Walsh certainly does not, and who knows when the automated systems are gonna break down without proper maintenance. They’re already incapable of providing the right temperature by default!”
That she’d call Reed by his given name - something that she’d hardly ever done before - clearly showed how serious she was. Besides, she was also right, and however little he liked the fact, he couldn’t deny it. They didn’t really have any other choice than to take the risk.
“All right,” he said,” but let me do it.”
She actually laughed! “Not a chance, Lieutenant. I am the language expert here, and that includes computer languages.”
“Which is why we can’t risk you having brain damage,” he argued.
She gave him an exasperated look. “But we can risk you being damaged, without a real chance to succeed? Don’t be ridiculous! Besides, my cranial implant will protect me… to a certain extent.”
He blinked in surprise. “What cranial implant?”
She looked at him, equally surprised. “You haven’t read my file? I’ve got a data storage device implanted in my brain; all exolinguists have. It helps us analyze the syntax of previously unknown languages and files away the full vocabulary of the known ones. You didn’t think I’d be able to speak forty-some languages using only my organic brain, did you?”
“I thought you were simply gifted.”
“I am gifted; extraordinarily so. The implant would not work for any random person. One has to have a unique affinity for languages. The principle is the same as with the universal translator: I still have to learn any new language I come across. The implant just enables me to learn them much faster; and to have the full vocabulary at my disposal, all the time.”
“So, does this mean that you’re basically a universal translator on legs?” He asked on a slightly sarcastic note.
“No,” she replied, refusing to be stung. “I am better. The universal translator doesn’t have instinctive understanding. I do.”
Reed nodded. That actually made a lot of sense. “I’m surprised that you were allowed to keep the device in prison,” he said slowly.
She shrugged. “The implant is not removable. Doing so would kill me. They didn’t want me dead. They wanted me alive and slowly turning mad in that windowless cell. Otherwise they’d have simply let me die after you'd shot me. It was a close enough call.”
That cut off the argument quite successfully, and Hoshi sat down in the chair. She was afraid, yes, very much so, but she also knew this was their only chance to survive here… or to eventually escape. If Jack had found a way to rescue them he’d already have done so. They were on their own, and she was the only one with a rat’s chance to connect with this… thing and live to tell the tale.
It was that simple.
As soon as she took the seat, an indicator on the armrest started blinking. Not having any better idea, she cautiously touched it; in the next moment the helmet-like interface slowly began to descend from the ceiling and only stopped when her head was fully covered by it.
Random lights began blinking all over the surface of the helmet - and that was when the pain hit with a force she had never experienced before. Sure, she had interfaced with computers a few times while her implant was being tested and fine-tuned, and it hadn’t been a pleasant experience, but this… this was magnitudes worse.
It felt as if white-hot needles had been rammed into her head at random intervals while she tried to navigate the sheer unmanageable influx of information to find what she needed. But she had to go on, had to at least map the huge database, to see where to return for the necessary details… if she managed to return.
She focused on environmental controls, healing and maintenance, filing away the information into her implant as fast as she could. Unbelievably, the pain was still increasing, and her face was wet… was she crying?
And then suddenly it was over. The interface went dark and was being pulled back up to the ceiling. She wiped her face and her hand came back red.
“What happened?” She asked, her voice croaking.
“Your nose started bleeding,” Reed answered. He was right beside her, stiff with anxiety. “I was afraid you’d get a stroke. I couldn’t think of anything else than hitting the control you activated the interface with. Are you OK?”
“I was better,” she admitted. “It was… extremely painful. Clearly, humans aren’t compatible with this system.”
“You should rest.”
As appealing as the idea was, she shook her head. “I can’t; not yet. The knowledge provided by the interface won’t last. I need to transfer the information to a PADD before it expires.”
The frown line between his brows looked as if it’d been dug in with an ice pick. “You mean you took such a grave risk for nothing?”
“I believe the original operators only interfaced with the control system when they had a particular problem to solve,” she explained. “When that was done, the information was deleted, so that it wouldn’t overload their brains.”
“So, how long do you have to transcribe the data?”
“I don’t know; a couple of hours perhaps, if we’re really lucky. Possibly less." She passed a hand wearily across her aching forehead. "God, I’d murder for a cup of coffee right now!”
“I’m afraid I cannot provide any,” Reed looked apologetic, as though it was his fault somehow. “But I can bring you an analgesic and a power bar from the ‘pod.”
“That would be grand, thank you,” She wiped the rest of the blood from her face and started working at once. She'd clean up properly later. Time was an issue here, and she didn’t know how much of it she had left.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
In the end the memories lasted almost three hours before they’d begin to fade gradually. Hoshi managed to access a great many systems and mapped the pathways with the help of her PADD, but it was clear that they had barely scratched the surface.
“This was a good start, but not enough, not by far,” she said. “I’ll have to go back, eventually; but not just yet,” she added, seeing Reed about to protest. “I’ll need time to recover; and besides, we need to see if what I’ve learned will work.”
She started with recalibrating the environmental systems. It took her a few hours, but in the end she managed to raise the temperature to 20 degrees, which she didn’t count as tropical level but was acceptable as the human norm. The system also managed to provide hot water and properly warm meals now, which was a real luxury after a quarter year of bitter cold water and tepid food. They still continued sleeping together, though, warmth not being just a matter of physical comfort.
After this, Reed insisted that Hoshi should rest for at least a day, and she didn’t really resist. She still had a lingering headache - nothing compared with the pain caused by the interface but unpleasant nonetheless - so resting sounded like a good idea. He, too, took a break from his exploration trips, and the two of them simply lazed around for a day, luxuriating in the warmth, enjoying proper food, real, hot showers… and each other’s company without risking frostbites, should the thermal blankets slip off.
On the third day Hoshi started working on the medical equipment. That proved much harder to bring back online than the environmental systems. She wrestled with the redundant technology for several days, employing Reed’s help (after all, he was a passable technician), and a week after her encounter with the interface they finally succeeded. The machinery in the sick room awakened fully and went to work; and another day later Crewman Walsh woke up from his coma.
He was weak like a kitten, of course, after having lain on his back motionlessly for nearly five months and been fed through a tube by the alien machines. But But though he had some pressure sores that needed treatment, his mind was fairly clear, and there was hope that with rigorous exercises to build his muscles back up he’d make a full recovery. Reed offered his help with the exercises, since he didn’t really have much else to do; and besides, keeping the crew fit was part of his job.
“I hope that when he’s back on his feet he’ll be able to help me with all this machinery,” Hoshi said. “He’s supposed to be a very good engineer; Charlie has hand-picked him, after all.”
“You mean Commander Tucker?” Reed clarified.
She nodded, smiling to find him still so very strict about ranks and titles. “It is so strange to think of him as a superior officer,” she smiled. “We all worked together at the Warp 5 Complex in the beginning: him, Jack and me. Charlie was like the big brother I never had. Even after I moved to Brazil to teach alien languages, we stayed in touch. Until… well, you know.”
Of course he knew. No-one on board Enterprise knew half as well as he did. The knowledge still pained him.
“I’m so glad Crewman Walsh is gonna make it,” Hoshi continued. “Not just because he’s got a wife and three kids back on Mars. I’m glad Charlie won’t have to write his family the letter. That would hit him hard. He always considered the people working with him as some kind of extended family. Hell, he was even devastated by Cooper’s fate, and she was a newbie!”
“Not to mention a menace,” the Lieutenant added darkly.
“That, too,” Hoshi agreed. “But Charlie still felt responsible for her. Fortunately, Jack offered to inform her parents himself.”
“What was it like to work with the Captain and the Commander, back then when they weren’t the Captain and the Commander yet?” Reed asked, suddenly curious. He knew the official reports, of course, but having an insider’s view was something different.
“Adventurous,” Hoshi laughed quietly. “They were thick as thieves, always up to something; and they were more than willing to take other people with them. I’ll never forget that diving holiday we made to the Great Barrier Reef.”
Reed shuddered at the mere thought of a diving holiday. Not that he hadn’t been forced to participate in several such ‘holidays’ by his father, but he couldn’t imagine people actually enjoying such activities.
There was something else he wanted to know, though.
“Was Captain Archer always so… flirtatious?”
She laughed again. “Oh God, yes! In fact, he was a lot worse when his hands weren’t bound by the non-fraternization rule. Casual sex was for him a way to bond with people; like a handshake or a pat on the back for others. And he wasn’t choosy, either; male of female, alien or plant, animal or mineral… if they were gorgeous enough, he’d screw them, as Charlie liked to put it.”
“Including you?” Reed realized the question was beyond personal, but he was curious; and Hoshi would certainly meet the gorgeous enough criterion. He knew that first-hand.
She shrugged. “We did have a light-hearted romp, right before I’d been going to leave for Brazil. He’s quite insistent when on the prowl, and to be honest, I was flattered by his interest. It never changed anything in our friendship, though. Had Charlie been into men, it wouldn’t have changed their friendship, either.”
“It must have been… awkward, becoming his direct subordinate aboard Enterprise then,” he said slowly.
“Not really.” Her voice had suddenly gone flat. “That was in a different life; a life that ended in prison. He rescued me from there, but I’m no longer the same person I used to be. That Hoshi Sato is dead.”
You killed her, the unspoken addition hung between them, ending the conversation.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Crewman Walsh took another month to struggle back to his feet. At first he was shocked and confused by all the things that had happened while he’d been inured, but when he understood that getting away from this planet - and seeing his wife and children ever again - depended on them getting a distress signal through the interference, he went to work immediately.
And that helped a lot. He might have been just enlisted personnel, but - as Charlie Tucker had perceived - he was a damn good engineer, with an instinctive understanding for even previously unknown technology. (Which was the reason why he’d been enlisted in the first place.) While Hoshi was making frustratingly slow progress with the language of the station builders, Walsh joined Reed on his exploratory trips. Of the three of them he had the best chance to figure out what all that machinery was for.
And in the end, even though it was parsecs beyond Earth technology, he did figure it out.
“Those three mushroom-shaped outbuildings are basically grav-generators; extremely powerful ones,” he explained somewhen during the eighth month of their exile. “Those grappler-like extensions burrow deeply into the rock and mine liquid eysilium, which this entire complex uses as fuel, to provide artificial gravity… among other things. I believe the complex also serves to keep up the multiple EM-fields around the planet.”
“But what possible means might those EM-fields serve?” Reed wondered. “Aside from keeping any visitors out, I mean.”
“They could also serve to keep something - or someone - in,” Walsh pointed out.
The Englishman thought about that for a moment, not much liking the sound of it. “Are you telling me that somewhere on this rock something dangerous might be trapped?” Then he turned to Hoshi. “Have you found any records indicating that?”
She shook her head. “All I’ve found so far are technical instructions how to keep the complex operating. Its builders seem to have been extremely concerned about a possible breakdown, but I haven’t found the reason for it yet.”
“That is unfortunate.” His comment was extremely understated, as always. “We won’t be able to get off this rock, with or without help, as long as the EM interference is there. Can we find a way to shut the EM-fields down?”
Walsh shrugged. “I haven’t got a clue, sir, but in theory there should be a way, since it isn’t a natural phenomenon.”
“Yes, but can we risk to do so?” Hoshi asked. “The builders of this place clearly put up these fields to keep a grave danger under control. If we manage to shut them down - and this is a big if - we might let that danger loose. Can we risk uncounted lives just for the vague chance of getting away from here?”
“Now you sound like a Vulcan,” Reed commented sourly. “The needs of the many and all that rubbish.”
“I don’t find that principle rubbish,” Hoshi replied coldly; then she looked at Walsh in apology. “I know you wish to see your family again, Crewman, but can we really do this? If we find a way to do it, that is.”
Walsh looked from one officer to the other in tormented indecision. On the one hand, he knew she was right, of course. On the other hand he desperately wanted to return to his family if there was a chance.
Fortunately for him, the decision was taken off his hand by the sudden squawking of Hoshi’s communicator.
“Archer to away team. Do you read me?”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Reconfiguring the multispatial probe by remote control took longer than expected, even with T’Pol’s help. But in the end Vulcan knowledge and precision combined with human ingenuity paid off, and Charlie Tucker proudly presented the results to his commanding officer.
“You can give it a try, Cap’n. Let ‘em know that help's on the way.”
Jack felt a hard lump in his throat. If this didn’t work, they’d have no means to save the away team. He still might not trust Reed one hundred percent, but the man was a great asset to his senior staff, and Crewman Walsh had a family back home. And Hoshi… losing Hoshi would be like losing a close family member.
It felt like so much time had passed while they were working up here. With that damned temporal distortion in operation, how much more would have passed down there on that planetoid? If the away team had had nothing more to work with and sustain them than what was on the shuttlepod (even if they’d managed to land it in one piece and survived), they’d have died long ago, believing Enterprise had abandoned them there.
He forced himself not to think about the worse case scenario. There was still hope. He cleared his throat and made the call, trying to persuade himself - and failing - that his voice was not trembling.
“Archer to away team. Do you read me?”
At first there was just static, but then came a cry; they all recognized Hoshi’s voice, although it was an octave higher with excitement than usual.
“Jack, is that really you? We thought…”
“You thought we had abandoned you,” he finished for her. “We’d never do that. However, there’s a temporal difference between our two positions, caused by a gravimetric shear. In fact, for us it has been a mere four and a half days since you got lost. According to T’Pol, it must have been two hundred and twenty-six days for you. Send us a quick data burst of your situation and we’re gonna work on both ends to get you out of there.”
“If we can,” Charlie muttered pessimistically; then he looked at T’Pol. “When can we count on an answer?”
“It depends on how fast they can provide the data,” the Vulcan answered. “Once they actually receive the captain’s message, it will be up to them.”
“Let’s hope the probe won’t burn up all its fuel before that happens.” The engineer was prowling around like a caged lion. “I’m getting a really bad feeling about this.”
He expected a scathing remark about letting his emotions cloud his professional judgement (or, at the very least, a disapproving Vulcan eyebrow™), but it never came. Apparently, somewhere along the way T’Pol had actually learned to trust human instincts… to a certain degree anyway.
So, now they were waiting.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
“Seven months?” Hoshi repeated in shocked disbelief after they'd received the message from Enterprise. “We’ve been here for seven months, and for them it was little more than half a week? It’s not fair!”
“Temporal phenomena rarely are,” Crewman Walsh commented philosophically. “At least I was lucky enough to be unconscious half the time. What are we supposed to do now, sir?”
Reed thought about it for a moment, and then said they’d prepare the data burst the Captain asked for. “And send it to Enterprise for analysis. Perhaps T’Pol and the cow lady can come up with a solution.”
“They will need days for that; which means months for us,” Hoshi warned. “What are we going to do in the meantime?”
He shrugged. “The same we’ve been doing so far. The more we learn about this place, the more data we can send to Enterprise and the better our chances to get off this rock.”
“That would take too long. We’ll all die of old age before that happens.”
“Do you have a better idea?” Walsh asked.
“Yes. I’ll interface with the system again.”
Once again the suggestion was not well received by the officer in charge, whose glare was enough to scorch her. “Out of question! Doing so once was dangerous enough. Do you want to end up in a vegetative state?”
Hoshi rolled her eyes. “Of course I don’t want it. But let’s face it, Lieutenant; we don’t really have a chance. We need more information about this system, and I am best suited to get us that information.”
“I could do it,” Walsh offered. “I’m an engineer; I might understand better what I’m seeing.”
“No,” Hoshi said. “You’d have no protection; neither of you would. And you must think of Annie and the boys; they’ll need you for a long time yet. I have nothing to lose; all I have is my past, and that won’t be such a big loss.”
It would have been difficult to argue with that, since her future after her indentured service was still uncertain at best, and so the two men backed off, Reed very reluctantly. As time had really become an issue, now that they knew how much faster it was flowing in this sinkhole than in the rest of the universe, Hoshi returned to the control room immediately and put on the interface helmet, mentally asking for information concerning the EM-fields and how they were being maintained.
The second time the transition seemed easier. It still hurt like hell - like hot knives slicing her brain relentlessly - but finding what she needed went much faster and more smoothly. She briefly wondered whether - given enough time - the system would learn to adapt to her completely or she’d indeed end up vegetable due to frequent use; then she put away the thought and focused on the task at her hands.
When an eternity later (or rather after twenty minutes, in fact) she disconnected, her nose was bleeding again and the headache was debilitating. But she needed to save all the data she had gathered because she knew the knowledge would be gone in about three hours. Fortunately, Reed and Walsh knew by now how to go her to hand, and before the hard-won knowledge would fade, they could put together the data burst and sent it to Enterprise.
She was out like a light for the rest of the day.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
“Captain,” Crewman Baird turned around with his seat,” we’re receiving a data burst from the away team.”
“Finally!” Jack released a breath he hadn’t been aware he was holding. “Send it to the main viewer of the Situation Room and summon all senior officers there. Lieutenant Foster,” he looked at Reed’s second-in-command, “you have the bridge. Ensign Soccorro, take over Tactical.”
When ten minutes later the remaining senior officers gathered in the situation room, T’Pol was already analyzing the data sent by the stranded away team. Gerasen Gerasal was with her, and the two of them were conversing in rapid-fire Vulcan.
“Care to let us into the secret?” Jack asked with deceptive mildness.
Gerasen Gerasal turned to him apologetically. “I’m sorry, Captain. We didn’t intend to exclude you; or Commander Tucker. It’s just that I can discuss scientific and technical things much better in Vulcan. I’ve been speaking it at least a century longer than English.”
That made sense, of course, and Jack felt slightly ashamed. Gerasen Gerasal had never been anything than forthcoming, after all.
“What have you found out?” He asked.
The Viseeth looked at T’Pol. “You are the scientist. I’ll let you explain.”
“According to the data sent us by the away team, the EM-fields are being generated and upheld by three powerful gravitation generators connected by an automated computer system and fuelled by liquid eysilium that they extract directly from the planetoid’s mantle,” T’Pol began with scientific accuracy… only to be interrupted by Charlie.
“Wait a minute! Ain’t eysilium the stuff we tried to sample on that ice comet when we ran into the Ti’Mur?”
T’Pol nodded. “That is correct, Commander. It appears that the builders of the complex down on the planetoid have found a way to liquefy eysilium and use it as an energy source. As the outer layer of the planetoid’s surface contains large deposits of eysilium, the generators can keep running for an estimated six point seven four thousand years.”
“Our people can’t wait that long,” Jack said dryly. “Is there a way to shut down the generators and the EM-fields?”
“Every system can be shut down; one only has to find the right method,” T’Pol replied. “However, according to Ensign Sato, the builders clearly found it imperative that the EM-fields remain stable. There are warnings all over the system against tampering wit them.”
“Told ya,” Charlie said, addressing Jack. “This must'a been a defence measure against the fish monks to cross over.”
“Theoretically, that is possible,” T’Pol allowed. However, “we cannot extract the away team as long as the EM-fields are up and running. My suggestion would be to find a way to shut down the generators long enough for the team to leave but reset them at the moment Shuttlepod One has reached safe distance.”
“Aren’t ya forgettin’ somethin’?” Charlie asked. “That’s a subspace sinkhole out there. Nothin’ can escape it.”
“Not if it is a natural phenomenon,” T’Pol said. “Which, in this case it is not. There is a 92.6 percent probability that the gravimetric shear is also being created and upheld by the generators down there.”
“For what purpose, though?” Mayweather asked.
“To keep everyone or everythin’ trapped there that might cross over, despite the EM-fields,” Charlie realized.
T’Pol looked grave. “That is the most likely reason,"
“But how does that help us; or our people?” Jack asked.
“Oh, it does help us a lot!” Charlie Began warming up to the topic. “If they manage to shut down the generators, they shouldn't have any problems liftin’ off and leavin’ that rock behind.”
“If they manage to do so,” Mayweather emphasized. “Captain, if this complex is built on the same technology as the repair station was, it will be extremely redundant… and insanely complicated. How are they supposed to find the off switch?”
“The system allowed Hoshi to interface with it,” Jack pointed out.
“Which isn’t necessarily good news,” the helmsman countered. “She might end up as I did.”
“Unlikely, if she’s already interfaced with the computer successfully,” Gerasen Gerasal said. “If both the station and the complex down there were built by refugees from Sigma Draconis IV, which seems to be the best working theory right now, then they weren’t meant to take over organic brains by force. The Ancients, as they were called by the other inhabitants of the Sigma Draconis system, used technology that merged machine and organic operators. The operators were volunteers and highly respected by society.”
“Why would anyone volunteer for that?” Mayweather asked, bewildered.
“The Ancient operators worked in shifts,” Gerasen Gerasal explained. “Also, their brains were attuned to the computers, and thus not only did they not suffer any damage, the connection also extended their natural life span by centuries. Sources mention entire families that lived in symbiosis with their technology for generations. Of course, there was very little empiric data left after the ice age destroyed all civilization on Sigma Draconis IV and the Ancients fled to the stars, but the technology was supposed to cooperate with the volunteers.”
“Yes, but a human brain works differently than an Ancient one,” Doctor Phlox said. “Ensign Sato still might suffer brain damage, just because they aren’t compatible.”
“That is certainly a risk,” Gerasen Gerasal admitted. “Let’s hope that the Subcommander and her fellow scientists will find a solution without the need for Ensign Sato to connect to the system again.”
“… and that they’re gonna find it, soon,” Charlie added. “Don’t forget how much faster time’s goin’ for the away team. They’ll come back old an’ grey if we dawdle too long.”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
“Do you think they’ll find a way to get us off this rock?” Hoshi asked doubtfully.
She and Reed were still analyzing the data from her last excursion into the computer database, while Crewman Walsh was studying the generators, as far as the system allowed him.
“If they do, this is going to be a tad awkward,” he answered slowly. “Returning to Enterprise, I mean.”
She glanced at him from the corner of her eye. “Any regrets?”
Reed shook his head. “None. We did what we had to do to remain alive and sane. Besides, this has been my longest relationship, ever. How could I regret stability? It’s such a rare gift in these times.”
She didn’t know if she should laugh at this backhanded compliment or be insulted. She chose the first. “You must have quite the track record.”
“You have no idea!” Reed pulled a face as if he’d tasted something unpleasant. “Not by choice, though. I simply had to chicken out every time before it could have become something serious because of who - what - I was. It would have been dangerous for my prospective partner.”
“Because you talk in your sleep?” She asked matter-of-factly.
“I still do?” He was mildly shocked by that news. “Good Lord, and I had to go through special training to break me out of the habit!”
“Perhaps, given the outlook of our situation, you felt you could let go of things,” she said thoughtfully.
“Perhaps,” he agreed, frowning down at the PADD in his hands. “To be honest, I never felt so free in my entire life like in the recent months. I could be… just me, without any strings attacked. Not the son of Commodore Reed, not the Covert Ops agent of Starfleet Intelligence; not even the armoury officer of Enterprise… just me,” he fell silent, and then he added, after a lengthy pause. “I know it sounds weird, but this hasn’t just been the longest relationship I’ve ever had, it was also the most… comfortable one.”
“Because you didn’t have to pretend being in love when you weren’t,” she supplied. “After all, we don’t even like each other all that much. This has been a mutually satisfying arrangement, nothing else.”
“Oh, I do like you well enough,” he protested. “I just… I can’t forget that had I missed back then, you wouldn’t even be here now. And I can’t decide what makes me feel more guilty: the fact that I nearly killed you or the fact that you’re stranded here because I insisted on this investigation.”
“Be glad your aim was accurate, then,” she returned dryly, “and stop wallowing in guilt. That was then, in another life. This is now; and I wanted to come, to prove that I’m a competent, useful officer, not a frightened rabbit. The rest of it… well, it’s gained a life of its own, and I don’t regret it, either. We needed to hold to each other; but once we get back under Starfleet rules, it will have to end, and you know that.”
A pause. “Actually, as we aren’t in the same chain of command…”
“… it would still be unseemly and heavily frowned upon,” she interrupted. “My career can’t be ruined any more, but you could get in hot water over this. Not with Jack; he sees such things in a pretty relaxed way, but the brass do not. And your handlers at Starfleet Intelligence wouldn’t like the fact that you got involved with your target.”
She was right, of course. And she didn’t even know half of it. No-one on board knew about Section 31 and Harris, and in this case ignorance was life-saving. Keeping all this from Soccorro would be hard enough, and he couldn’t even tell where Soccorro’s true loyalties lay. No, it won’t be easy once they got back… if they could get back indeed.
Besides, what right did he have to expect her to forget what he’d done? What he’d been?
“The time we spend here remains ours, though,” he said. Maybe that was for the best, was all he was really fit for. Fuck and forget.
“And I intend to put it to good use,” she replied.
Then she took his face in both hands and kissed him, slowly and deeply, as if she wanted to suck the very life out of him - for the first time ever. All the time they had been intimate, she had refused to face him during sex; and they never kissed. Not a single time. But now their time of strange closeness was going to an end; it was the right moment to start creating memories for the long, lonely days to come.
~TBC~