by Shards
Griffin's hands balled into fists. "You promised me-"
The Vulcan shook her head. "I did nothing of the sort. I merely presented you with an option."
The freighter captain growled and went to his station, pulling a pistol from a compartment in the console. "You'll pay for this!"
An indicator glyph flashed on the viewscreen, and Kendrew yelped. "Transporters! We're being boarded!"
"I would suggest you drop that weapon," said the Vulcan. "It might be considered provocative." She had barely finished speaking when the air was cut by a humming buzz, and a dozen columns of ruby-gold light coalesced around the command deck.
Men and women in blood-red tunics gained solidity and form, and Griffin's breath caught in his throat as he saw the dagger-and-planet insignia on their chests. Griffin felt as if every detail of the intruders was impressed upon him; he recognized the sashes around their waists, the slender and lethal blades sheathed at their hips. The hallmarks of Imperial Earth's chosen. But if anything, these invaders wore an air of menace that went beyond any kind of uniform. He saw a tattooed Andorian female, tribal patterning visible down her bare arms and across her midriff, silver rings in her brow and lips; cradling a plasma shotgun lazily in his grip, an ebony-skinned man so large and muscled across the chest that the tunic upon him seemed ready to burst; a wispy, pale Edoan carrying blades in each of his three hands; and standing behind the command chair...
Griffin found a granite-hard gaze boring into him. Lit from behind by the blinking alarm strobes, the man was tall and imposing, his face defined by the flicker of flame from a thin cigar between his teeth. He wore the uniform of an Imperial officer, but only as an afterthought. His stature was framed by a long gray coat that hung to his ankles. Both hands lay casually on the top of a cross-belt holster, the black forms of phaser pistols beneath them.
The man cocked his head and smiled, exhaling a little smoke. He nodded at Griffin's pistol. "Do you know what happens to men who point guns at me?"
Griffin immediately tossed the weapon at Kendrew, who caught it without thinking. Something silver flashed out of the Andorian's hand, and the navigator made a choking noise before he slumped to the floor, a dagger protruding from his neck.
"Yes." The officer nodded. He drew on the cigar and then gestured at the ship around them. "You tried to get past us without halting for inspection."
Griffin sneered and nodded, remaining defiant.
The man leaned in toward him. "Do you know who I am?"
He didn't; all these Fleet types looked the same to him, either pretty boys or brigands dressed up like toy soldiers.
The Vulcan woman answered the question. "Captain Zhao Sheng," she began, as if she were reading from a report, "also known as the Yellow Hand, the Untouchable, decorated six times by the Admiralty and once by the Empress Sato herself. Master of the I.S.S. Endeavour under the authority of Starbase 47."
Zhao shot the woman a hard look at the last statement. He studied Griffin again. "All true. And so, why did you think that this..." He paused, feeling for the right term. "This scow was a match for my ship?" His voice dropped. "I am almost insulted."
The Andorian woman had recovered her knife, and with a nod from her commander, she spoke up. "This vessel has not paid tribute for its passage through the Taurus Reach. The penalty for such an infraction is severe." She cleaned Kendrew's blood off the blade, using the dead man's shirt.
"The penalty for such an infraction," repeated the Vulcan, "is at the discretion of the officer in command, according to Imperial diktat. Punishment may be anything from a percentage of confiscation of cargo to summary execution."
Griffin glared at her. "Will you be quiet, woman?"
Zhao nodded, amused. "She's quite right." He glanced at the Edoan and the large human. "Tupo, Mkembe? Supervise the boarding parties in the cargo bays. Take half of what you find."
"Half?" Griffin choked on the word. "You're worse than pirates!"
"What about resistance?" Tupo made lazy cuts in the air with his swords.
Zhao looked away. "Deal with it."
As they left, the Andorian indicated Griffin and the rest of the bridge crew. "Sir?" She pointed with her dagger, making it plain exactly what question she was asking.
Griffin saw his chance and broke in. "Your apes won't be able to open my cargo pods! They're ray-shielded, impregnable. Even cracking the locks would take centuries!"
"Oh?" Zhao said conversationally. He considered that for a moment, then snapped his fingers at the Andorian. "Ensign sh'Zenne? Communicator, please." He took the woman's device and activated it, then slipped the unit into Griffin's pocket.
Leaving his other men to guard the command pod and holding the hatch open so the crew could watch what he was doing, Zhao gave Griffin a shove in the small of the back and propelled him over to the airlock. Sh'Zenne opened the inner door and put the freighter captain through, sealing him in.
Griffin tried to maintain his defiance. "What are you going to do, huh? Drain out the air? Suffocate me?"
Zhao shook his head and produced his own communicator, turning away to speak a quiet command into it.
"You can't space me!" Griffin yelled, his voice muffled through the thick armor glass. "I'm the only one who knows the unlock codes!"
"Really?" said Zhao. He nodded to the Andorian, who slapped her palm over the emergency venting control.
There was a sudden screech of air, and the outer door opened. Griffin was blown out into the void and tumbled away into the dark. Sh'Zenne closed the hatch behind him and repressurized the chamber.
Zhao made a point of looking each one of Griffin's bridge crew in the eyes; then he whispered into the communicator again.
A transporter buzzed, and Griffin rematerialized on the deck at Zhao's feet. He was covered in rimes of ice, shivering and coughing. Lines of blood from his nostrils and ears streaked his face. Sh'Zenne picked up the trembling man and put him back into the airlock.
"Go...t'hell..." Griffin managed.
"Again," said Zhao, and the exercise was repeated. The airlock opened, and Griffin shot away. Agonizing seconds passed before the man was beamed back, his body racked with pain from the freezing kiss of space.
Sh'Zenne opened the lock for a third time, and Griffin wailed. Zhao gestured for her to stop. "Yes?" he asked. "Is there something you want to share with me? The codes?" Griffin mumbled something incoherent, and Zhao kicked him toward the threshold of the airlock.
With black, frostbitten fingers, Griffin clawed at the deck, trying to hold himself back. "No. No." He wheezed. "Tell you."
"Better," said Zhao, and nodded to sh'Zenne, who bent down to recover her frost-covered communicator. "Pass on the key codes to Lieutenant Tupo."
"An expedient if ruthless form of interrogation." The Vulcan woman who had spoken earlier stood before the captain. He found himself appreciating the line and shape of her, long waves of black hair falling down over her shoulders, and a cool, serene face.
"You disapprove?"
She shook her head slightly. "On the contrary. Your method shows forethought and control. Other Imperial officers would have gunned down the entire crew as a matter of course. You appear to apply object lessons more sparingly."
He was sure he detected the smallest measure of sarcasm in the words. Zhao crossed to her and pressed a phaser against her throat. "Do not make the mistake of assuming that leniency on my part represents weakness, Vulcan. As you noted, I have the power of life and death over every person on this ship."
She remained irritatingly unruffled. "And who, I wonder, has that power over you, Captain Zhao?"
Her eyes-for a moment, he found himself searching them, and in the woman's gaze, he glimpsed something...fascinating. He smiled thinly and shrugged the moment off, moving away. "I am a servant of the Empire." Zhao said the words by rote, ignoring the ashen taste they left in his mouth.
"As am I," she replied. "In that capacity, I offer myself to your service."
Z
hao turned back to face her. "Is that so?" He holstered the gun and reached out to stroke her cheek. The flesh was warm, as if touched by the sun. She was, it had to be said, quite alluring. "Why would you do that?"
"Because I know who you are, Zhao Sheng. I know you treat your men and women well." She nodded at the Andorian. "I know what a man like you requires." He smiled at that, and she eyed him. "And I know that I will perish if I remain aboard the Eighth Happiness. Once you leave, Griffin's crew will kill me. They blame me for this turn of events."
"Are they right to do so, Miss...?" he asked, considering her with new eyes. "You will forgive me, but I don't know your name."
"Yes, they are," she replied, "and my name is T'Prynn."
"The tribute is secure in bay two," said Klisiewicz. Zhao's first officer delivered his report, as always, standing ramrod straight and staring at a point somewhere beyond the far bulkhead of the captain's private chambers. "We have resumed our patrol pattern as ordered, sir."
Zhao nodded, assembling the items he needed from storage cupboards in one of the alcoves. "Anything else, Stephen?"
The other man hesitated for a moment. The captain knew the small tell; Klisiewicz was a rarity among the Endeavour's crew, an Imperial officer who fully embraced the letter and law of the Empire's military doctrines. He typified the mentality of "by the book," and while sometimes that generated friction with the more rebellious and relaxed attitudes of Zhao's other officers, the man played an important role aboard the ship. He was the voice of reason, the echo of what the Fleet once was; and in darker moments, the captain might have been willing to admit that Klisiewicz was a mirror for the officer that he had once been.
"It came to my attention that a number of junior ratings had expressed seditious opinions over your handling of this action," he explained after a moment. "I've initiated a disciplinary session in the agony booth for them."
"What did they say?"
"It was suggested that you showed weakness in allowing the freighter to continue on its way."
He chuckled dryly. "What good would another obliterated starship be to the running of the Empire?"
"Indeed, sir," agreed the officer. "The questioning of your commands. That sort of insubordination is intolerable."
Zhao glanced up and smiled thinly. "You would have preferred to execute the men, wouldn't you?"
Klisiewicz gave a curt nod. "I would, as an example to others. But your standing orders disallow it."
The captain patted the bulkhead. "This is a ship full of rogues and brigands, Lieutenant Commander. Do you know how I have kept them in line?"
"Fleet diktat demands the use of discipline and the rigid application of punishments."
Zhao nodded. "And I don't shy away from those things when I need to. But my crew follow me because I keep them alive. Because I am good at what I do." He took a swig from a bottle of Saurian brandy liberated from the Eighth Happiness. "Because I give them the spoils. I'm not a commander who kills his way through his crews, who climbs to the top on a pile of corpses-" He halted, catching the tone of bitterness bleeding into his voice. I'm not a man like Reyes. He left the words unspoken, but Klisiewicz could sense his meaning.
The junior officer nodded and went on. "The woman you took as your prize has been processed," he noted. "There was a minor fracas when Dr. Leone made an attempt to conduct an examination."
"Oh?" Zhao worked the heating element in front of him.
"Yes, sir. The woman broke his arm."
"Good. That will teach him to keep his hands to himself."
Klisiewicz produced a small data card from a pocket. "She had this on her. It's encrypted. She refused to unlock it for anyone but you."
The captain took the card from him and turned it over in his hands. "Curious. Where is she now?"
"Outside, sir."
He nodded. "You're dismissed, then. Send her in as you leave."
"Captain." Klisiewicz hesitated again. "I'm not comfortable leaving you alone with her."
"Your concern is appreciated, Stephen. But I'd rather have you on the bridge. And besides, if she murders me, you'll be promoted to the center seat."
The lieutenant did as he was told and left, allowing T'Prynn to enter. The light desert nomad robes she had been wearing aboard the freighter were gone, and in their place she was garbed in a simple crew jumpsuit. Zhao smiled slightly; even in so drab an outfit, the Vulcan appeared attractive. He made a mental note to find her something more appealing to wear from the spoils in the hold.
He continued at his task, working half concealed in the alcove. "Take a seat, if you wish." When she didn't, he continued, "You assaulted one of my officers."
She nodded. "Will I be punished in return?"
"That depends. Why did you do it?"
"Your surgeon-commandant informed me that all females aboard the ship are required to service him sexually. When I declined, he offered me recreational narcotics and then attempted to assault me. I injured him."
Zhao shrugged. "He's an excellent doctor. A poor judge of character, though." He tossed the data card, and T'Prynn caught it easily. "What's that?"
The Vulcan held it between her thumb and forefinger. "I would define this as an opportunity, Captain." She placed it on the table.
"Indeed?" His work complete, Zhao deactivated the heating elements in the console before him and moved the bowls from it to a tray. He carried the steaming containers from the cooking area. Zhao set out chopsticks and some sticky rice in front of T'Prynn. "Eat," he offered. "You must be hungry."
"You cook your own food?" The Vulcan raised an eyebrow.
"Of course," Zhao replied. "I've had run-ins with poison more times than I care to recount. It's not difficult to reprogram a fabricator to add toxins to a meal. This way, I know what I'm getting." He took a few bites, then paused. "Something wrong? You don't like my rice?"
T'Prynn heard the warning in his tone and sat, taking up the proffered bowl. They ate in silence for a while, each quietly taking the measure of the other. Zhao was mildly surprised when the Vulcan spoke first.
"I assume this chamber is secure?"
"Of course." He helped himself to more vegetables.
"I have been looking for your ship for two solar weeks." She put the rice bowl aside. "My passage on the Eighth Happiness was my second attempt to draw Endeavour's attention."
"If you wished to speak to me, why not send a subspace message?"
"It was important that this meeting be clandestine. I convinced Captain Griffin that he would be able to cross your patrol zone without detection, when in fact I had altered his ship's warp signature so that you would find it easier to detect."
Zhao took another swallow of brandy. "Go on."
"I have been placed under deep cover in order to penetrate the Taurus Reach and contact you directly." She put a slender finger on the data card. "As I said, to present you with an opportunity." T'Prynn pushed the card toward him. "The files contained here will authenticate everything I am about to tell you."
He made little stabs in the air with his chopsticks. "I'm not open to business offers," he replied. "Whoever you're working for, Klingons or Romulans, I've no interest in them. I have..." His voice trailed off. "I have obligations in the Taurus Reach."
T'Prynn continued, "This offer is made on behalf of Admiral Spock of Starfleet. I am his operative."