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"The
Captain Trap"
Tarrah lurked in the shadows of the corridor, dodging from crevice to crevice as she followed the couple through the halls of Starbase 12. David Spencer and Sonya Williams had finished their dinner with Witten and were strolling towards the quieter sections of the base talking animatedly about their lives. Finally they had disappeared into Sonya's quarters. The frustration was driving Tarrah crazy. She had to stop this, the Captain belonged with Marie Larron, she couldn't let this old flame come back out of nowhere and steal him back. She had to do something. She crept up to the door and listened, she couldn't hear anything, but her imagination congurred up several scenarios, images and positions for the two of them to have gotten into. Looking around, Tarrah quickly found a nearby computer access panel. Going over to it, she pried off the front of it and began tracing the fire control circuits. Using her fingernails to alter some of the finer components, she quickly adjusted the monitors to her liking and the light representing Sonya William's quarters turned red. Tarrah smiled for only a moment before she felt a hand grip her shoulder. She turned to see the face of a Starfleet security officer looking down at her with a phaser pointed directly at the back of her head. "Please remove your fingers from the console." His voice was gruff and firm. "We've been following you for a while now and you'll find that we don't take kindly to Orion saboteurs on this station." Tarrah stood up slowly with her hands above her head. Just about then, Spencer and Williams dashed out of her quarters, completely covered with the foamy, gelatinous goo that had been blasted throughout her quarters to suppress the fire that Tarrah had programmed the computer to believe was there. "Tarrah?" Spencer exclaimed as he saw her with the security guard. Upon seeing him, she shot across the hall and threw her arms around him. "Davy!" She cried as she planted a huge kiss on him. David instinctively responded for only a moment before pushing the Cadet off and driving her tongue out of his mouth. "Tarrah!" He snapped. "Davy." She cooed. "Davy?" Sonya asked. "Tarrah!" He tried to shake her off. "Davy." She clung to his arm. "Davy?" Sonya began to look impatient. "Davy? I mean, Sir? What's going on?" the Security guard holstered his phaser, but still stood ready. "That's what I'd like to know. This is Cadet Tarrah." David introduced the clinging Orion. "She's a member of my crew." "I'm his yeoman." Tarrah informed the other two. "That doesn't mean that we're involved." David tried to pry her grip from his arm. "I didn't say there was." Sonya folded her arms. "They usually say that if they have a guilty conscious." The security guard offered. Spencer shot him a dirty look. Sonya didn't look amused. "Tarrah, what are you doing here?" David was trying to back away from her, but she simply dragged along in the slippery goo that was dripping from him. "I missed you, David" Tarrah whined as she wrapped herself tighter around him. "You know how lonely your bed gets when you're not there." "Tarrah, what are you talking about!" David yelled. "I have the same problem with my wife." The security guard offered. Sonya's eyes narrowed. "Sonya, no! It's not really like that! This isn't the first time that she's... I mean... Tarrah is just..." Spencer finally pulled himself away from her. He staggered for a second on the slippery deck before catching himself. "Tarrah was just leaving!" "But David, what about all those times together? What about... Paris?" Tarrah cried. David froze for a second at the word Paris, but then he pulled out his communicator and flipped it open. "Spencer to Republic, beam me up and hold all the rest of my communications!" He snapped to communicator shut and slapped it into Tarrah's hand quickly. Before she knew what was going on, she was caught in the transporter beam heading back to the ship. "But
what about the baby!!!" She cried as she dissolved.
"Repercussions"
Captain Spencer had stormed back to the Republic and summoned Cadet Tarrah to his quarters before he had arrived there. He had already started stripping off his gooey tunic when she arrived. Tarrah was terrified. She knew she had done what she had to do, but how was she going to explain it to David. He was probably going to send to a different ship, or have her completely expelled from Starfleet. Once again she felt completely helpless, in some ways even more than when she had been a slave. Spencer answered the door chime angrily and Tarrah stepped into his quarters reluctantly. Her head was bowed as she entered, but she pulled herself to full attention once she was in front of his desk. "Sir." Her voice quivered. Spencer just stared at her for several moments, while he was more than ready to launch into her; he had no idea how to even begin to respond to the incredible breach of behavior. His silence had an even more terrifying effect on Tarrah. She stood frozen as she tried to anticipate his attack. "Cadet," he finally stated. His voice was level but forceful. "Would you mind telling me exactly what the hell you were thinking." "I don't know, Sir." Tarrah fought the urge to cry. "'I don't know'!" Spencer's voice rose in anger, "Do you have any idea how inappropriate your action was? On how many levels? Do you know what I had to go through to convince station security that you weren't a terrorist? And you tell me that you don't know why you did it! Why did I keep you out of the brig?" "I don't know, Sir." Tarrah whimpered, but she knew it was the wrong thing to say and quickly continued. "I'll never let it happen again, sir." "How can I believe that when you don't even know why you did it in the first place?" Spencer was beginning to yell. Tarrah's breathing was becoming rapid as she suppressed her sobs. Spencer stared at her, but she refused to meet his eyes. She stared straight ahead. Suddenly, David understood. She had a crush on him. Over the years she had made her attention clear, but he had been blind to it. How could he have been so stupid? It made so much sense. "Ms. Williams and I were just talking about old times." David said softly. "She was telling me about her husband and two kids." Tarrah's eyes widened even more as she realized the futility of her actions. She had ruined everything for no reason. "It's none of my business, Sir." She stammered. "You're damn right it's none of your business!" David snapped. He stared back at her; the idea of a relationship with her was... Well... He still saw her as a young girl, but the truth was that she was a fully mature woman; an incredibly attractive mature woman. He knew the psychological theory behind a young girl, rescued from slavery falling in love with her rescuer. She probably saw him as her prince charming and was waiting to live happily ever after with him. It was actually kind of romantic. He had rescued her almost 10 years ago. Throughout the rest of her schooling and her Academy training, she had remained in touch with him and he had followed her training. Looking back he could see now that she had been infatuated with him all along. It was obvious. It had also never waned. She had remained loyal to him all along, despite his obliviousness to her interest in him. She would never lie to him about being married... He shook his head and looked at her again. Orion woman were notoriously beautiful and Tarrah was no exception. Her long green hair flowed over her back; its soft curls accentuated the curves of her body. Her full breasts and sensuous hips even made the tight fitting cadet coveralls look great. The smooth, exposed flesh of her face was flushed slightly from her suppressed crying. He stepped over to her; a single tear had started to roll down her cheek. He reached up to brush away the tear. He cupped her chin and lifted her face to look into his eyes. He looked back, finally letting himself get lost in her eyes, now glistening with the tears they refused to give up. "I'm sorry." He brushed the hair away from her face. "No real damage was done. We'll just forget about it this time." "Thank you, Sir." Tarrah threw her arms around him and hugged him tightly. David returned the hug comfortingly. He had never noticed before how nice her hair smelt. "What do you say we have some dinner, Tarrah?" he whispered into her ear. Tarrah pulled herself back from his embrace to look in his eyes again. She had seen that look before, but never from David. Suddenly terrified all over again, she struggled out of his arms. "NO!" She cried. Even though he immediately released her, she still beat against his chest several times rather than back completely away. "How dare you!" she screamed at him. "Just because I'm your yeoman, it doesn't mean I'm going to sleep with you!" "What? Of course not! No! I didn't..." David just stood there confused and stammering. Tarrah stood there shaking and crying freely now. Her own urges were fighting so strongly against each other. But she knew what the right thing to do was. "I could never..." she cried. "You're like by big brother!" she turned and dashed out of his quarters. Spencer
simply stood there, staring in stunned silence at the door she had just
raced out. There had to be other Captains in Starfleet who didn't
have this kind of trouble with women...
"AWOL"
As everyone else on board the ship had taken this wonderful opportunity for a little shore leave aboard the space station, Dr. Finnley placed the sick bay in the capable hands of Lieutenant V'kar, and headed over. "Doctor, remember to ask their sick bay for the medical supplies we will require to replace those that were expended in the battle. I've prepared this PADD listing what is required," V'kar said. "Don't worry, Lieutenant. My first stop was going to be with their Doctor Tainer. Thanks for the PADD. I'll check back in a few hours, let you know when to expect the supplies," the doctor smiled at his second. * * * * * "Thank you very much doctor Tainer. These supplies will be put to good use. I'm glad you could help out with some of the deficiencies in our sick bay. There's always one or two things that get overlooked in outfitting a new ship," Baxter smiled. "And I'll be sure to look into this list of items when I get back to the Republic. I'm sure we might be able to help you out with a few of them," he stuck his hand out to the elderly doctor, who clasped it amiably. "You're very welcome, Baxter. We're happy to help." Baxter shook his hand then departed from the station's sick bay. He decided to take a stroll down the station's promenade before looking for somewhere to grab a bite to eat. He stopped by a few shops and examined some of the interesting items they had out for display. At one stall, he noticed a display of jewelry. Most of the pieces were low quality, gimmicky stuff, but he did eye a very nice pair of emerald ear rings. "Ahhhhhhh.... Does sir see something he likes? Perhaps his trained eye has noticed these elegant earrings?" a flabby blue skinned alien with a variety of skin folds around his face shuffled up behind the counter. "Yes, actually. Those earrings do look very nice. Do you certify their authenticity?" "Most certainly sir! They are a 18 karrot gold setting housing those beautifully tear cut emeralds. The emeralds are both 1.2 karrots." "How much are you asking?" "For you? A distinguished gentleman with such excellent taste? 240 credits!" "That's a little outrageous don't you think? I'll offer you 80 credits." "80?! You wound me sir! How will I feed my 12 children? I can't accept less than 200!" "Make it 150 and you've got a deal. You can send them to the Republic attention Baxter Finnley, with the certificate of authenticity." "Very well sir. You are a shrewd customer! I hope we can do business again!" The alien offered his hand and Baxter shook it. Baxter took one more look at the earrings as the shopkeeper began packaging them up. "Tarrah is going to love those..." * * * * * The doctor continued his stroll and made a couple more interesting purchases, then headed towards the lounge for some food. On the way there, he passed Captain Spencer, Commander Witten and an unknown female officer heading in the opposite direction. The captain made introductions, the doctor smiled and shook hands, then continued on to the lounge. He took a seat at a window table and waited to be served. He ordered a pasta dish and a Venutian Sunrise, a rather impressive and colourful drink served in a foot long tapered glass. He ate his meal in silent thought about all the interesting new challenges which were occupying his time now that he'd taken charge of his own Sick Bay. He finished his meal and was most of the way through his drink when he began feeling a little light headed. "Guess this drink is hitting me a little harder than I expected," he thought to himself. A stranger walked up and sat down across from him. "Doctor Finnley! I haven't seen you in a long time! How've you been?" The doctor struggled to form a coherent thought. "Who... Who're... I... I..." "Wow, Doctor, I know you like those things," he pointed to the glass, "but I think you've had one too many! Here, Doctor, I'll help you get home." The stranger put his head under the doctor's arm and lifted him out of his chair. "Whoa, easy does it Doctor." Baxter tried to fight with the man, but he couldn't get his muscles to respond properly. The thought "Neural Inhibitor" floated through his mind as the man shuffled him quietly out of the lounge and down a side corridor. The man activated a piece of equipment and Baxter felt a the familiar tingle of a transporter taking effect. The station faded in a reddish glow from his view and was slowly replaced by a dank, dark transporter room built in harsh angles from some form of greenish metal. The doctor's head lolled to one side and he found himself looking into the face of someone waiting just beyond the transporter PADD. "Qapla',
Doctor Finnley. It's a pleasure to meet you. We're going to
have some very interesting things for you to look at when that drug wears
off."
"All
Together Now"
Captain Spencer exited the turbolift and took a quick glance around the bridge. None of the normal crew was there only a skeleton crew of replacements filled a few of the key positions. The command staff was probably still enjoying their shore leave. Spencer actually found it somewhat comforting to be among crewmembers that didn't know him as well. Spencer strolled around the upper deck, glancing at the various readouts. The junior officers fidgeted slightly at his entrance, but sat at their stations focused on their consoles, despite their lack of activity. Several of the consoles had been replaced and the monitors were showing much healthier readings than they did when they had first arrived. The Captain finished his circle next to the port side engineering console. A young human stood in front of the station, Ensign Tobbin. "Ensign Tobbin," Spencer addressed the young man hoping that he had remembered his name correctly. "Are the ship repairs complete?" "Aye, sir." Tobbin replied crisply. "And the quartermaster reports that the last of our supplies are being loaded now." "I figured Lt. Witten wouldn't be taking his shore leave until the ship was back to his standards." Spencer smiled. "Yes sir." Ensign Tobbin replied nervously. He wasn't quite sure where the boundary was in humoring his Captain, so he remained stiffly at attention. Spencer sighed at crossed to his command chair. While the junior crew kept him from facing certain inner turmoil, they also lacked the repartee that he had developed with his regular officers. In dealing with the Arwa, the crew of the Republic had started to learn how to work together and was beginning to develop their own style. They had begun to know what to expect from each other. He looked at the empty navigation station. Firming up his jaw he turned to the communications station. "Ensign, begin the recall of all crew members. We need to get back to work." Once he got the acknowledgement, he turned his attention back to the console on the arm of his chair. Once again he confirmed that all of the repairs where in order and that the ship was ready to go. Next he logged their ability to depart and had it forwarded to the Admiralty. He was just checking his reports for the latest news of the sector when the communications officer interrupted him. "Excuse me, sir." "What is it, Ensign?" Spencer turned to communications. "Have you confirmed everyone's return?" "Uh, yes, sir. At least, kind of, sir." It was obvious that the young man was nervous. "'Kind of'?" Spencer got up and crossed to the young officer. "It's Doctor Finnley, sir. He's not responding to his communicator." "Oh really," Spencer smiled comfortingly. "The rascal must have gotten involved with..." Spencer looked down at the young man at communications and realized once again that there were limits to how much he could joke around with someone that didn't know how serious to take him. "He must have gotten involved with some medical research. Ask the comm. officer over there to make a station wide announcement. If he's not going to answer his communicator, he deserves to be embarrassed." He watched as the order was transferred, then waited patiently for a response. He paced slightly in an effort to avoid looking over the young man's shoulder. After what seemed like an eternity, he turned back to communications. "Anything?" he asked. "Nothing, sir." Now Spencer began to get nervous, it wasn't like any Doctor, especially Doctor Finnley to ignore a summons. "Has everyone else responded?" he asked. "Yes, sir. I've confirmed that all personnel have either returned or are in the process of returning." "Very
well, keep trying to contact the Doctor and let me know immediately if
you hear anything."
"Not
Really a Choice"
Baxter awoke suddenly from his nightmare, glad to have finally returned from the images his mind had conjured of the Klingon ship. Unfortunately, the hard surface beneath his back and the squalid lighting conditions of his cell quickly informed him that it hadn't been his imagination. Baxter began to sit up and realized that the after effects of the neuro-toxin they'd slipped into his drink hadn't quite worn off yet. "Gods, I feel like I've been on a week long bender... but without any actual partying to show for it." Slowly, Baxter swung his legs onto the floor and brought himself into a sitting position, with one hand to his head. His vision was a little blurry, but he could make out that he was inside a very small room, sitting on a metallic bed of sorts. He could also feel the faint thrum of warp engines resonating through the floor. As he sat there trying to clear his head, the door in front of him swooshed open, allowing a glare of reddish light from the corridor to assault his senses. "You're awake. Good," said the Klingon who had greeted him in the transporter room a short while ago. "Doctor Telvek says this should help clear the drug out of your system." As the Klingon reached for Baxter's arm he recoiled from the hypo-spray being extended towards him. The Klingon growled and snatched Baxter's elbow and forced the hypo-spray against his arm. "Come now, doctor, you're no use to anyone if you can't think straight." The contents of the hypo coursed through Baxter's body taking almost immediate effect; Baxter felt much improved. "There now. I am Kvor, commander of this vessel. I've brought you here to do some work for me." Baxter looked up in surprise. "What kind of work could you possibly believe I'd be willing to do for you after you've abducted me from a Federation Starbase?" Kvor smiled. "You participated in a research project roughly 3 years ago with Starfleet R&D, and we are interested in the results." Baxter looked slightly taken aback. *How the hell does he have access to classified information?*he thought. "I might have," Baxter dissembled aloud, "I have been involved in a large number of research projects in recent history. I can't say I'm aware of which one you are speaking of in particular." "Now now, doctor, don't try being coy with me. You were directly involved with the Genesis project. Is that not correct?" "Whether I was or not is classified information, as well as anything which I might know about the project." "Doctor, we can do this the easy way or the hard way. And although I would get a great deal of satisfaction from breaking you, we don't really have the time for it. So why not make it easier on yourself and comply? We know that you conducted research into Neochromatogenesis for the project, in fact we have all of your research notes. Here, come with me." Kvor forcibly lifted the doctor to his feet and began guiding him out into the corridor. "I know what must be going through your head right now, doctor: Starfleet will never stand for this. They'll find out I was abducted and will be coming to rescue me any time now. Well, let me disabuse you of that notion. Right about now, the station security forces are discovering the charred remains of what they will assume used to be you. A plasma conduit rupture, I believe. And even if they did suspect something, do you honestly believe they'll have a chance of tracking down a cloaked Klingon vessel traveling at warp? You're better off cooperating with us. Perhaps when you're work is done we'll drop you off on some desolate moon to live out your days." Kvor marched Baxter through a series of corridors and into a laboratory area, where a severe looking Klingon female was waiting. "Doctor Telvek, I present to you your new research partner, Doctor Finnley." Baxter looked around the lab and was surprised to see a variety of very sophisticated looking equipment. Kvor led Baxter over to a terminal and punched in a code. Baxter noticed the terminal was configured to Federation standard. A series of diagrams and text began scrolling across the screen in front of Baxter's eyes. "This is all classified information. How did you obtain all of this? These are all my notes on Neochromatogenesis." "Doctor, if I could arrange to bring you here, don't you think I could arrange for the rest? Of course, it cost a significant amount, but it was a small price compared to what you are going to help build." Kvor leaned over and punched in another series of commands. "Here's what the good Doctor Telvek has put together so far." The diagrams and text changed. The doctor's eyes widened as he read what was scrolling across the screen. "You want me to participate in creating Bio-mimetic gel? It's only ever been theorized, and even the theories have been frowned upon. This would be the most potent biological weapon in the quadrant. What makes you think even for an instant I'd participate in the construction of something that could only result in suffering for thousands?" Kvor
smiled. "Because, doctor," he pointed to the back wall of the laboratory
which was constructed entirely of mirrors. Kvor brought a communicator
up to his mouth. "Qar'DuSh! TeK!" The mirrors became transparent, and behind
them Baxter saw what appeared to be a large holding cell filled with more
children than Baxter could count from a variety of species. Two Klingons
walked into the holding cell and grabbed a little girl, holding their disruptors
to her head. "For every time you don't do what you are told, one of these
children will die."
"The
Message"
Spencer read the report one more time. It still read that it had been a 'plasma conduit rupture.' He forced himself to put the Padd down, and then he walked away from it. It was almost too much to bear. He had lost crewmembers before, it was part of command, and it was part of the dangerous career choice of Starfleet. But, damn it, people weren't suppose to die strolling down the corridor of a secure starbase while on shore leave! The station personnel reported that there was barely enough of Doctor Baxter Finnley left to even know that he was caught in the blast. Wiped out, as if he had never existed. But he had existed. He had been a member of this crew, and Captain Spencer felt his lost just as surely as he would if he had sent the Doctor on a certain death mission. He was responsible for the safety of his crew, even on shore leave; even when the unforeseeable happens. He crossed out of his office and stared at his empty quarters. These were the times when the loneliness of command became painfully obvious. He could really use one of Witten's wry comments, or Tarrah's ever-optimistic smiles, or Marie's comforting embrace" But none of that was to be. Instead he had the weight of Doctor Finnley's death dropped on his lap. The lose of his Chief Medical Officer. Steeling himself to the responsibility, Captain Spencer returned to his office. Standing behind the desk, he keyed the comm. "The
following personnel are to report to the Captain's Quarters immediately.
Lieutenant Commander D'Veccio, Ensign Hawkings, Able's Man Seafort and
Doctor Fin..." he caught himself, swallowed and reactivated the com.
"And Lieutenant V'Kar." He released the switch and began to pull
himself together so he could pass on the news to the rest of his crew.
"Piece
Offerings"
Knowing that the Captain was on the Bridge, Tarrah leisurely scrolled through the forms in his command database. It had been relatively easy to find his signature on file so she could copy and paste it to several documents. That way she had been able to hurry through her work for the day and move on to more important matters. She still had to do something about David and Marie. It was obvious that the poor man was infatuated with Tarrah, but that couldn't be helped. She had to do whatever it took to get them back together. She had promised it to herself to try. Obviously they were both stubborn, so they both would think that the other needed to make the first move. So that's what would happen; each would get a peace offering from the other. Rummaging through the database, she quickly found the appropriate form and signature. Tarrah's tongue slipped out of the corner of her mouth as she focused on filling out the form. "For meritorious service above and beyond the call of duty, blah blah blah..." she recorded the information and sent it off. Sitting back, she smiled. Marie should be getting her promotion to Lieutenant jg by tomorrow. Now for David: she looked around his office and quarters. What would a man like him want? Of course! Tarrah slapped her own forehead as her early life training came back to her. As an Orion slave she had been thoroughly trained in what men want. She should know better than anyone. How stupid of her to have forgotten. She thought about it for a couple more minutes before she knew her idea was right. It would be tricky, but it would definitely be just what David wanted. She quickly got to work. ***Later*** Getting to borrow the recording devices had been a major operation by itself, and then getting access to the crawlways around the junior officer's quarters was another ordeal. By the time she was done with this, Tarrah would owe favors to half of the security department and part of the engineering staff. And for what? So she could crawl along this dark, cramped little access way scraping her hands and getting grease in her hair? This had better be worth it. Several of the junior officers shared facilities. But it still took some carefully arranged "out of order" signs to funnel the activity where it was needed. But eventually everything was set and Tarrah was ready for business: still in plenty of time for the Alpha shift to start rotating through. For her current objectives, sonic showers had a definite benefit. Their focused sound waves were completely invisible, as opposed to traditional, water showers that matted down hair, left a film and steamed up the lens. This was going to work great. Activating the hand sized monitor in front of her, Tarrah found that the tiny camera had a perfect vantage point to the small stall. She should have no problem getting clear images. Then with the slightest amount of photo manipulation, she should be able to develop the perfect present for David, from Marie of course. Of course it couldn't have been easy enough for Marie to be the first one in the shower. Tarrah had to sit through several other crewmembers first. The Orion girl sat up a bit when Lt. Bolo showered, she had always wanted to know what a Kelorite looked like naked... next was Ensign Darrow, she had always thought he was cute... later, she smiled at the revelation of Nurse Butler's true hair color... then there was Ensign Moore; the yeoman had no idea what a 'gifted' man the shuttle technician was! And what an appropriate name! Finally, Marie Larron entered the stall. Tarrah sat up as best as she could in the cramped crawlway and activated the recorder. Next she flipped a switch near a canister she had hooked into the system nearby. Tarrah's Deltan roommate had inspired the added touch. An approximation of Deltan pheromones were being eased into Marie's sonic shower. Who knew if it would have any effect, but if it helped Tarrah's attempts at amateur porn... any little bit would help. Once again making sure that the camera was recording, Tarrah leaned back and relaxed, everything was going as planned. Hopefully the pheromones where going where they were suppose to. She wasn't completely sure how airtight the seal had been, but it shouldn't matter. Soon, Tarrah's thoughts were wandering to Ensign Moore.. |
