by Peter David
Sulu looked at him with a contemptuous glare. The smug look of confidence in Sulu's face was in no way an act. He had every certainty that he was in total control of the situation.
Taine shook his head sadly. "Very well. Have it your way, then. Rogers," and he snapped his fingers briskly.
Rogers nodded once in understanding and stepped out of the room.
"What will it be?" said Sulu defiantly. "Electric current? Mental scans? Mind probes?"
"Please, L.C. Have you no respect for your surroundings? For the ambience? No," said Taine, "we want to have respect for traditions here."
Sulu felt the source of warmth before he actually saw it. Rogers walked in briskly, using thick mitts to carry a glowing brazier. Rogers paused and tilted the brazier slightly for Sulu to see that it contained coals, gleaming a dull red.
"If I'd known we were having barbecue, I'd have brought a steak to toss on the grill," Sulu said wryly.
"Your wit is most appreciated, L.C. Sulu, if not your timing," replied Taine. He passed his hand over the coals and nodded once approvingly at the heat. "Another several minutes, I think, to make sure that they are as hot as possible. Do you have your tools, Rogers?"
Rogers nodded and walked toward the case Sulu had noticed earlier. He flipped the latches, opened it, and began to extract rods. The rods had points of different widths, and Rogers examined each of them as if he were trying to choose the appropriate golf club for a difficult shot.
"Rogers is particularly expert at these sorts of things," said Taine.
Sulu stifled a laugh. He wanted to play along as much as possible, but this was really pushing it. Ambience? These guys were going to use primitive torture techniques because they were concerned about ambience? How ridiculous could one get?
"So … tell me your plan," said Sulu.
Taine looked at him askance. "I beg your pardon? Are you under the impression that we are here to answer your questions?"
"Oh, but that's usually how these things work, isn't it," Sulu said confidently. "I, the hero, am tied up and helpless. You, the smug and stupid villains, believing that I'm finished, proceed to tell me your entire insidious plan."
The three captors looked at each other, then back at Sulu. Rogers laughed out loud at that point, and Thor glowered. Taine, for his part, merely stared at Sulu with undisguised pity.
"You've seen too many old movies," Taine said sadly. "You really are a fool. Ah well. No concern of mine, really."
Sulu paused a moment, the wheels turning. "Ohhh, I see. You're going to walk out of here, secure that Rogers will extract information from me … and then, with the odds more even, I'll manage to break free from this chair and overwhelm him."
"No," said Taine, leaning back against a wall, his arms folded across his chest. "We're not going anywhere. We have people watching the exits from the city. Ling Sui can't get away. Nor can you, although your situation is a bit more dire than hers at the moment."
"Then in that case," said Sulu, "there's only one answer left in this little dance: a daring last-minute rescue."
Thor was beginning to look rather impatient. Rogers had his rods heating to a blazing red against the coals. Taine seemed genuinely confused.
"Lieutenant Commander," he said, "you seem to be under the impression that this is a game. That it's an artifice of some sort. Is that truly your belief?"
"He's just trying to make us think he's an idiot," Rogers commented dismissively.
"Well, he's succeeding admirably. L.C. Sulu … you are genuinely in trouble here. There will be no last-minute rescue. There will be no extended discourse from us, giving you the key pieces of information you require. We are going to do you bodily harm until you tell us what we want to know, or we will kill you … or both. Any other outcome is purely in your imagination."
Sulu smiled grimly. He had to give them credit: They were damned effective. Particularly Taine, the Asian. He was going all out to give the proceedings an air of genuine menace. If Sulu hadn't been so certain of his true status, he might actually have begun to get worried.
"Quieting down," noted Taine. "Going for stoicism? Inscrutability, perhaps? Well, we'll attend to that. Rogers?"
"Ready," said Rogers, standing over the heated brazier. With his thick gloves, he removed one of the rods. Sulu noted with mild interest that the tip was glowing red. Smoke was pouring from it.
"At your convenience, Rogers," said Taine, gesturing toward the bound Starfleet officer.
Rogers approached slowly, savoring the moment. Sulu watched confidently, waiting for the last-minute rescue. Knowing that salvation would be imminent. Any second now there would be the whine of phaser blasts, or the crashing in through the skylight.
(Rogers drew closer.)
Something to stave off doom because, in situations like this, the hero never really got maimed. Was never really put through some grueling, hideous …
(The broiling point of the rod was closer still. . . .)
… ordeal, such as having heated metal stroked across the skin, searing it, blackening it, causing it to peel back and away while the hero screamed for mercy …
(He could feel the heat, the intensity, and he saw the total lack of pity in Rogers' eyes.)
And just for a moment, Sulu's confidence slipped.
He started to pull, yanking at his bonds, but they were too tight. All he managed to do was cut off circulation to his hands.
His abrupt signs of struggle brought Rogers to a momentary halt, before he chuckled and started to advance.
"Feeling a bit nervous?" asked Taine silkily. "Suddenly realizing you're overdue for a rescue?"
That was, indeed, precisely what Sulu was realizing. He pulled more furiously at his bonds, but they simply drew tighter as the rod drew closer.
"Now," said Taine, "tell us what you know."
The air seemed to shimmer from the heat directly in Sulu's eyes.
Taine repeated, caressing each word, "Tell us … what … you know."
Sulu licked his lips briefly and then said, "Heading is a mathematical expression describing a direction with relationship to the center of the galaxy. A heading is composed of two numbers, measuring an azimuth value and an elevation value in degrees. A heading of zero zero zero, mark zero, describes a direction toward the geometric center of the galaxy."
Rogers and Taine exchanged confused glances.
Sulu didn't slow down. "In terms of navigation on a planet's surface, this is analogous to describing a direction in degrees from north, in which case a course of five degrees—"
"What are you doing?"
"—would be slightly to the right of a direction directly toward the planet's north pole. A heading differs from a bearing in that it has no relationship to the current attitude or orientation of the spacecraft."
There was a pause, and Taine and Rogers thought Sulu was finished.
He was just catching his breath.
"Now bearing, by contrast, describes a direction in space with relationship to a space vehicle. A bearing measures the angular difference between the current forward direction of the spacecra—"
"Shut up!" Thor roared from across the room. It was the first thing he'd said since Sulu had had the misfortune to encounter him. Sulu had begun to assume he was mute.
"What is the purpose of this, L.C.?" asked a befuddled Taine.
"You said I should tell you what I know," said Sulu. "Would you like me to move on to fencing techniques? Fun facts about botany? Old Earth firearms, perhaps."
Taine regarded him for a long moment.
"Oh, to hell with this," he said finally. He turned to Rogers. "Kill him. Slow, fast, I don't care. Just kill him."
Chapter Seven
ROGERS NODDED, perfectly happy about the instruction. He turned toward Sulu, swung back the rod, and brought it around in a baseball-bat-type arc.
Sulu managed to push off, sending the chair tilting backward, and he slammed to the ground as the heated rod swished over his head, bar
ely missing him.
"Don't dance with him," said Taine in genuine irritation.
Rogers grimaced with annoyance as he strode forward. Sulu was still helpless, tied to the chair, and Rogers gripped the rod with both hands and prepared to bring it slamming down squarely into Sulu's chest.
And it was at that precise moment that the skylight smashed inward.
Sulu's captors looked upward in confusion just in time to see a small, round device plunge from overhead. It struck the ground and exploded, and in that instant everything went completely black.
Sulu had no idea what was going on. Actually, that wasn't true strictly speaking. His faith in his situation had been confirmed. It was, in fact, a last-minute rescue. They'd really had him going there for a minute, but now he knew beyond doubt that this was all an elaborate hoax staged by Chekov.
What he didn't know was who was staging the rescue, or how it was being done.
He heard yelling from the trio of captors, but they were as blind as he. He heard people slamming into each other, the sounds of tripping or falling bodies.
And then there were hands pulling at his bonds. A quick, sharp tug and then they came free. "Who's there?" he whispered.
"Be quiet and you'll live," hissed back a female voice. He recognized it instantly. It was Ling Sui.
There was a tugging at the ropes binding his right leg. By the time he had pulled it loose she'd already cut through the one on his left. She pulled at his arm and said, "Come on!"
"She's in here!" came an angry voice, clearly belonging to Taine. "Find her!"
"Here!" came her fierce whisper to Sulu, and she was shoving something onto his face. Instantly the room glowed with a dim red light and he was able to see.
Clearly she had made use of a blackout bomb, plunging the room into total blackout by disrupting all the visible wavelengths in the room. But the special goggles enabled the wearers to discern their surroundings.
He saw the three men staggering about in the darkness. Rogers was waving one of the heated rods, and the metal brushed against Thor's right arm. Thor spun with a yelp of indignation and swept his arm around, tagging Rogers squarely on the head. Rogers went down, the metal rod clattering to the floor.
"Let's go," grunted Ling. She wrapped fingers around his forearm. It was like having one's arm in a vise; her grip was that strong. Then abruptly Sulu was yanked into the air. He felt a surge of power that seemed to be coming from the vicinity of her feet. And then the next thing he knew they were up and through the skylight.
They landed on the roof and Sulu looked around quickly, trying to get his bearings. Although he and Chekov had been in the city for several days, they hadn't even begun to cover all the sections. It was, after all, situated on twenty-three square miles of land. Other roofs spread out around them like a vast field of black tar, buildings clustered closely together.
Ling Sui was, naturally, dressed entirely in black. Actually, not entirely. She was wearing a thin green choker with a small locket on it. Her brow was covered with a thin line of sweat, but otherwise she looked unhurried and unperturbed. There was, however, an intensity about her. A sense that she was completely and utterly in charge of the situation. She yanked off her goggles, and stretched out a hand for Sulu's. He handed them over and she shoved them into a small knapsack attached to her belt.
"Where are we?" he asked.
"Thieves Quarter," she replied.
"Of course." He looked down at her feet. "Nice antigrav boots."
"The power cells are low. Come on."
Even though the boots could be somewhat clumsy when the antigrav field wasn't in use, they didn't seem to slow her down as she ran across the flat roof. Either that, Sulu realized, or else she was even more fleet of foot when she wasn't wearing them.
Sulu ran quickly after her, no slouch in the speed department himself. She afforded him a quick, approving glance and then together they leaped over the gap separating the rooftop they were on from the next.
Sulu paused to catch his breath, but Ling didn't slow. "Come on," she urged once more. He started to follow her …
… and a disruptor blast sliced just above his head. The smell of burnt ions hung in the air as Sulu and Ling went flat on their bellies. From street level they heard the angered shouts of voices which Sulu knew instantly belonged to their pursuers.
"Stay low!" she said and started to run. Sulu followed her, thinking to himself, So much for ambience.
The air crackled again, this time mere inches to Sulu's right. They were managing to close on the targets. Sulu and Ling got to a roof edge and barely ducked back in time as a disruptor blast ripped up from the street. Sulu didn't even have time to see who was wielding the weapon; it was all he could do to get out of the way.
Ling turned to him. "You have to trust me," she said tightly.
"You can't be serious."
"Deadly serious."
"Well, when you put it that way," he said, trying to sound casual.
She pulled him to her. "Hold on as tightly as you can," she said.
He did so. Her body was small and compact, but remarkably muscled for what was there. He tried not to smile as he gripped her. "When do we start the deadly part?" he asked.
There was a door that opened onto the roof behind them. It burst open and Taine was standing there. He yanked out a disruptor and screeched in inarticulate rage.
"Now," she replied, and kicked the antigrav boots into overdrive. The boots roared to life and drove them forward, arcing over the rooftops like a pair of missiles. Taine fired and missed. From the street below, more blasts ripped upward, but none of them managed to nail the fast-moving forms of Sulu and Ling.
The rooftops hurled past them at dizzying speed. It was an odd sensation for Sulu. Compared to moving at warp speed, this was a crawl. And yet he felt as if he'd never traveled quite as fast in his life. The outraged invective pouring from the mouths of their pursuers was left far behind.
Then something shuddered beneath them. Sulu had only a moment to realize that it was the gravity boots beginning to give out.
"Warned you" was all Ling said as their momentum carried them forward a short distance before they arced downward, the street coming toward them at dizzying speed.
This is going to hurt, thought Sulu as he saw they were angling straight toward a building.
His helmsman instincts kicked in, and he threw his weight to one side, hauling Ling with him. They banked sharply to the left, missing the building by centimeters. They hurtled down an alleyway, almost hitting the building on the opposing side. Sulu kicked out like a diver, striking the wall squarely with his feet and propelling them back in the other direction and then down.
They crashed into laundry.
It was hanging suspended between the two buildings, large blankets and comforters flapping in the breeze. How convenient crossed Sulu's mind before the dangling laundry encompassed them. It momentarily blinded them, but it also helped save them from serious harm as they hit the ground and skidded the length of the alley. They slowed to a halt inches away from the alley's dead end. For a moment neither of them said anything as they just lay there, recovering their breath.
"Just for the record," he finally managed to get out, "I'm Hikaru Sulu."
From somewhere within the folds of the blanket, she replied, "Ling Sui. Charmed."
He pulled the blanket off their heads and looked into her face. He was surprised—and yet, not entirely so—to see that there was laughter in her eyes.
"You realize," he said, "that we're simply going to have to get married."
She tilted her head slightly, regarding him with bemusement. "How do you figure that?"
"Because it would be worth it just so we could tell our children how we met."
She laughed incredulously. "You are really quite a unique individual. You seem to take all of this," and she gestured vaguely, "this … strangeness … very much in stride."
It helps that I've seen through the decepti
on, he thought, but he simply said, "In my line of work … one is not easily rattled."
"Indeed. Let's discuss lines of work … someplace where we won't be shot at."
They got to their feet, dusted themselves off, but at the same time never quite took their eyes off each other. She continued to stare at him as if not quite believing that he was there.
Sulu, for his part, was amazed. Obviously this was not something that Chekov had simply thrown together. This woman and the others … they were pros. Pros up and down the line. It would have been so easy for him to be sucked into the exquisite unreality of it all.
Fortunately enough, he was far too smart for that.
Chapter Eight
CHEKOV WAS BEGINNING to get worried.
It was now getting on evening, and Sulu had been a noshow. Perhaps there had been some sort of screwup. Some sort of miscommunication that had resulted in Sulu waiting for him at another restaurant. Chekov wished that they had their Enterprise communicators with them. Then it would simply be a matter of flipping his open and asking Sulu where the devil he was.
But they didn't have their communicators, so clearly that wasn't an option.
He stepped out onto the veranda and drummed apprehensively on the railing. He saw tourists going about their business, the various inhabitants into their usual routines. For the first time the artificiality of it all crept through to him. None of it mattered. None of it was real. What was real was the fact that his friend was absent, and he had absolutely no idea why.
Well, enough was enough. It was time to contact the authorities. Chekov had been reluctant to, for fear of looking like a total fool if he sounded an alert and it only turned out that Sulu was out somewhere having a good time. But he saw no choice at this point.
At that moment, the comm screen inset into the wall (one of the few allowances made in the room for modern conveniences) bleeped at him. Chekov quickly went to it and toggled the On Line switch.