Chapter 4:
Transporter room 4 looked a bit like a turquoise painted cabaret. There was a console at one end, and a raised “stage” that always looked like it had mood lighting, with six circular transporter pads. If necessary, the whole stage could be used as a single transporter for larger objects or alien species. The first away team of Commander Rodent, Lt. Phlebas, Lt. Repertor, and Yeoman Malins met Captain Wragg there, ready for their mission.
“Mr. Rodent,” said Wragg, “you’re in command of this team. Eulalia has triangulated the Cruxian computer transmissions to within 100 meters of the coordinates, but it’s pretty mountainous and rocky territory. You’ll have to look around, find the computer stations, and figure out what they’re up to.”
“Won’t the Cruxians try to stop us?” asked RacingRodent. “I mean, it’s not like we’ve been invited.”
“Right,” said Wragg. “This is a sort of secret mission thing. Set phasers on stun, and try not to be seen.”
“This isn’t really well thought out, is it?” asked Malins. “I mean, here we are in, let’s face it, uniforms that are basically a study in bright primary colours, and we’re beaming down to a rocky area where we’ll stand out like holiday lighting, and you say, try not to be seen.”
“That’s the spirit!” said Wragg.
“You know,” said Lt. Windar, “I may have a solution.”
“All ears, Mr. Windar,” said Wragg. “If you can do it one better, let’s go.”
“My scans show there is a subterranean chamber, approximately 100 meters below the surface of the planet. That would be an ideal spot to put computers if one was in danger of attack. I could beam everyone straight into that chamber.”
“Sounds good to me,” said Wragg. “Make it so.”
“Great,” said Phlebas. “So now, instead of brightly coloured sitting ducks on a mountainside, we’re going to be stuck in an unverified cave 100 meters under the mountain. What could go wrong?”
“We’ll just have to blast our way out, if we get stuck,” said Repertor. “If the phasers work on this rock, of course.”
“Nonsense,” said Wragg. “I think the likelihood is that there’s at least a 30 percent chance that the computers are right there. You go in, reconnoitre, and beam back up and report. Quick in and out.”
“Sounds like the last 3 dates I had on planet leave then,” said Malins drily.
“See me when you get back,” said Windar. Malins looked him over clinically until he felt self-conscious.
“Well,” said RacingRodent, “those computers aren’t going to find themselves. Everyone onto the transporter.”
“Good luck,” said Wragg cheerfully. “You can’t imagine how much I wish I was going with you, instead of to this reception thing with the Archon’s daughter,” he added unconvincingly.
“Thank you sir,” said Repertor. “Everyone stay alert. We may have to stun a few guards when we get there.”
“Energise, Mr. Windar,” said RacingRodent. Windar deftly made some calculations and slid the transporter switches. There was a whining, tinkling sound and the four people faded out of view. Wragg waved at them as they dematerialized.
“Well, that’s got that underway,” said Wragg. “Now for the other group.”
“Won’t the Cruxians be a bit upset if we just go inspect their facilities uninvited?” asked Windar. “I mean if they go down, you know Repertor will simply start stunning anyone they meet, and it might create an incident.”
“Don’t spoil this idea,” said Wragg. “We are taking precautionary measures. These are people who seem to just crucify 20,000 people in an afternoon, based on an attack that doesn’t seem to have happened. We need to know what they’re up to. Anyway, I’m sure the team will act with appropriate discretion.”
“Right up to the point where they shoot someone,” said Windar.
“Can’t have an omelette without breaking eggs,” said Wragg.
***
The away team materialized in an empty room. Consistent with the idea of being underground, there were no windows. In fact, it looked a bit like a hallway. It was about 20 meters long, and 5 meters wide. It was painted a dull matte gray. There were three sliding doors with control pads along the one wall of the chamber and a single double sliding door with an up and down button on the opposite wall.
There were no Cruxians in sight. There were also no interesting banks of computers or control panels, except the small control pads that operated the doors.
“Well,” said RacingRodent, looking around, “at least we haven’t set off any alarms yet. Any obvious signs of surveillance? Cameras, sensors, anything?”
Malins had her scanning tricorder out and was scanning anything that was around to be scanned. Repertor looked disappointed and clipped his phaser back onto his belt.
“Nothing shows on my scan,” said Malins. “Perhaps all the security features are at the entrance, which would likely be on an upper level, up this lift.”
“How do you know it’s a lift?” asked Phlebas.
“It has an up button and a down button,” said Malins. “That also suggests there’s a level below us.”
“What would be down there?” asked RacingRodent.
“Car park?” suggested Phlebas. “Joke,” he added. “We won’t know unless we go find out.”
Repertor was examining one of the doors opposite the lift doors. “What’s in here, I wonder,” he said.
“I’ll scan the controls and try to get it open,” said Malins, aiming her tricorder at the control panel. Repertor punched one of the buttons on the panel.
“I wouldn’t…” said Racing Rodent. The door opened silently. “…or perhaps I would,” he said.
The doorway was dark. A quick further exploration showed it was a storage room or closet. It contained a few boxes, a shelf with some office supplies, and a rack with a number of white lab coat style garments on hooks.
“I think we may have solved our colourful and obvious uniforms problem,” said Phlebas. “We can wear those white coat things as a kind of disguise.”
“Keep your phasers and communicators,” said Repertor.
“Right,” said Malins. “Then if we shoot someone, they won’t know it’s us doing the shooting.”
“Um,” said RacingRodent, down near the floor. “I don’t suppose there’s a squirrel, or even rabbit-sized coat…”
“I suggest you remove your uniform shirt,” said Malins. I can keep your gear in my coat pocket.”
“You mean, go naked?” asked RacingRodent.
“Not to put too fine a point on things,” said Phlebas, “but you are covered in fur, and you spend most of your time on the ship out of uniform.”
“Yes, but here I’m the commanding officer,” said RacingRodent. “I just don’t think I have that gravitas if I’m not wearing the uniform.”
“It’s almost certain that the Cruxians won’t have a reference point for a squirrel in a lab coat,” said Repertor. “That could be useful.”
“Oh, have it your way,” said RacingRodent. “Look, I’ll go first, with my phaser, into any place we come to. I suspect the Cruxians won’t know what to do if they have to report that a squirrel infiltrated their computers. Hard to explain that the Federation is attacking with squirrels.”
“Good thinking,” said Malins.
Dressed (or not, in the case of RacingRodent) in their white lab coats, the team explored the other two doors. One was a small utility room with cleaning supplies. The other was a small office, with a communication device and a desk. “The computers must be on another level,” said Phlebas. “Down I would think. They’d be safer from attacks.”
“We’ll try this lift, then,” said RacingRodent. He flipped open his communicator. “Away team reporting. All quiet so far. We’re going to drop down a level and look for the main control room.”
“Understood, Commander,” said Windar’s voice. “Good luck. I’m standing by if you need a quick beam out.”
“Thanks, Windar,” said RacingRodent. “Away team out.” He snapped the communicator shut. “Let’s go.”
***
Back in transporter room 4, there was a bit of a discussion going on. Wragg, Eulalia, Dr. Bobinder, Messaline, Loxuru, and Hondoboot were there, all dressed in their dress uniforms. For the men, this meant tunic style jackets with rank insignia and gold trim, with dark trousers. For the women, it meant a stylish black pencil skirt with fitted tunic, also with rank insignia. Apparently this was not appropriate Cruxian evening dress.
Barb was also in the transporter room, having just received a further communication from the planet.
“You mean,” Wragg said to Barb, “in their altogether…”
“Not quite,” said Barb. “Women wear jewellery and a loincloth style skirt.”
“I like it,” said Messaline. Eulalia didn’t seem upset either.
“And men wear…” asked Loxuru.
“My research shows that Cruxian women don’t generally wear a lot when they’re off duty. Cruxians believe the female form is art and should be on display.”
“Very, er, cultural of them,” said Bobinder.
“Well,” said Wragg, “we are Federation officers and we will go in uniform.”
“I wish I was going,” said Barb.
“Well you can take my place,” said Bobinder. “Dammit, I’m a doctor, not a socialite.”
“I don’t think anyone will mistake you for that,” said Wragg.
“Let’s go to this party. I want to see these lovely cruxian women,” said Messaline. “I hope Mr. Windar can concentrate to operate the transporter.” She winked at him.
“And that’s another thing,” said Bobinder. “It’s bad enough to have all my molecules scrambled and reassembled, without Windar getting all bothered the thought of half-naked Cruxian women. How do I know I’m going to still be me when we get there?”
“You won’t know if it happens,” said Windar cheerfully. “Now if you’ll all just get onto the transporter…”
“Energise!” said Wragg.
“I hate these things,” said Bobinder.
They materialized in the foyer of the Archon’s Palace. There were already quite a number of Cruxians milling around. The foyer was a portico with elegant columns that looked out over a hillside covered in orchards. The sun was setting, giving the fields and trees a golden-green glow. At the bottom of the hillside was a city with a mix of modern and older looking architecture. There was no sign of war or any other destruction.
Archon Rommarius was walking out of the palace into the portico to greet them, accompanied by a tall slim blonde woman. Her legs were long, her tummy was just nicely rounded, her breasts were pert and her nipples were tumescent and pink. She wore a shimmering green skirt that went to her knees, and was split up the left side completely to her waist. Her smile was also friendly and welcoming. Hondoboot noticed the smile. Wragg hadn’t even seen it yet.
“Did I ever mention Jenny?” Wragg asked Bobinder in a low voice.
“Quite a few times,” said Bobinder. “I’m never sure how you keep names of all these girls straight.”
“Welcome, welcome, friends from the Federation,” said the Archon. “We are so pleased you could join us. Come, make yourselves comfortable. There is food, there is drink, there is music. So many people who wish to meet you. Captain, this is my daughter, Melia. She will see to your comfort. I will just see to some other arrangements and will rejoin you.”
“You are very welcome, Captain,” said Melia.
“You lot go off and mingle, eh?” said Wragg to Bobinder. “See what people are talking about.”
“Messaline and I will look around and try to find out about all the crucifixions,” said Eulalia.
“Good thinking,” said Wragg. “A little under cover work. I will, er, get to know this young lady, in the interest of intergalactic relations.” He took Melia’s arm and they wandered off in the direction of drinks. “Have you ever been to Arcturus Beta?” he asked her. “Lovely sunsets there too.”
“Well, that’s the Captain gone for the evening,” said Loxuru.
“I hope the doctor has his medical kit,” said Hondoboot. “Interspecies relationships can be complicated.”
“These people look pretty human,” said Eulalia, “but we really don’t know much about their physiology.”
“Their physiology, at least the girls, looks pretty fine to me,” said Bobinder. “You can take that as my medical opinion.”
“Keep your communicators on,” said Eulalia. “Oh, look, serving girls,” she said brightly. “My kind of people. Meet back here in an hour to check in.”
“Yes,” said Bobinder. “We might have to go find the Captain.” He pointed at Wragg who was already strolling arm in arm with the almost naked Melia toward a refreshment table.
“Come on Messa,” said Eulalia. “The working girls usually know what’s going on.”
Eulalia and Messaline walked casually after the girls carrying trays and followed them through a doorway. The serving girls were undressed, like all the other women at the reception, wearing a light white skirt-style loincloth. This called attention to, rather than obscuring the parts it barely covered.
“Oh, Ladies,” said one of the serving girl, seeing Messaline’s uniform. You shouldn’t be back here in the kitchens. Let me show you to the food tables or the dance floor.” She tried to escort them out the door again.
“Actually,” said Eulalia, “we are visitors, not Ladies, and we were just looking for a quieter area to relax a bit.”
“Yes, it is a bit dramatic out there,” said Messaline, playing along. “And the people are so much like actors. You girls are more, um…”
“Down to Earth,” said Eulalia. “I used to be a slave, er, serving wench, um, girl, myself.”
“You were?” said the serving girl. “How did you escape and become an officer on a starship?”
“So you are slaves too?” asked Messaline.
“Not really slaves,” said the girl. “But on Crux Primus, all women belong to a man or a house. We here belong to the Archon. We serve him. But look,” she said her glance darting around, “I can’t stop here and talk. I’ll get into trouble, and end up on the crucifixion roster. You should go back to the reception.”
“Can you get us skirts like yours?” asked Eulalia. “We heard about the crucifixions, and maybe we can help, but we need information.”
“Yes!” said Messaline. “Disguises. Like a real undercover job.”
The girl darted into a closet and returned with two short, white skirts. Eulalia and Messaline stripped off their uniforms and put the skirts on. They stashed their uniforms in a bag and put them in the closet where they had got the skirts.
“There,” said Messaline. “Now we are Cruxian girls. This way, you can speak to us, and there will be no trouble.”
“Where can we go to talk?” asked Eulalia.
“There is a girls’ rest room down the hall,” said the girl. “It’s my break time – 20 minutes. We can talk there, but then I have to go back to work. Just pray there isn’t an attack from the Dark Zone. If there is, and you’re found here, there will be trouble.”
* * *
Meanwhile, Hondoboot, Bobinder and Loxuru were finding Cruxian food delicious, Cruxian drink intoxicating, and Cruxian women quite forward.
“This is exhausting,” said Hondoboot.
“What is?” asked Loxuru. “I’ve had three propositions already for more personal contact later this evening from some very lovely girls, and it’s only been a quarter of an hour.”
“This is what I mean,” said Hondoboot. “Vulcan sexuality is based on chaste experience of arousal. I am being somewhat over stimulated. It is a most interesting, and yet taxing experience.”
“I have to admire your willpower,” said Bobinder. “I don’t know how you cope.”
“One learns the discipline,” said Hondoboot. “I have very good discipline.”
“Well, mine isn’t that strong,” said Loxuru. “I don’t suppose I have time for just one hook up with one of those girls before we have to beam back to the ship?”
“We don’t even know where the Captain is,” said Bobinder, “and Eulalia and Messaline have also disappeared. Nobody seems to be talking about crucifixions.”
“There are so many,” said Loxuru. “Maybe they’re just normal here. You know, nothing they get excited about.”
“A person nailed to a cross,” said Hondoboot, “and you think that would somehow become mundane?”
The music suddenly stopped and a gong was struck. The Archon’s voice rose above the dwindling conversation. "Friends and esteemed guests, we are indeed fortunate to welcome our Federation friends, who are here to help us end the conflict with the Dark Princess. In honour of this occasion, we have a special presentation.” He clapped his hands.
Two heavy looking doors at the opposite end of the portico opened, an honour guard of four men dressed in red tunics, black pantaloons, and shining boots stepped into the portico. Each carried a multifunction Laz-o-zap™ staff. The four men flanked a young woman, dressed only in a purple cloak, who carried a beam of wood on her shoulders.”
As she stepped into the room, the Cruxian guests raised their glasses and cheered. The girl smiled.
“So,” said Bobinder, “you think crucifixions are just old hat here?”
“I could be wrong,” said Loxuru.
“She appears to be doing this willingly,” said Hondoboot. “I have to say, this is the most stimulating thing I have seen in some time.”
“I thought you Vulcans were supposed to be dispassionate,” said Loxuru.
“A common misconception,” said Hondoboot. “In fact, when the time comes…”
Bobinder’s communicator beeped. He surreptitiously flipped it open.
“Doctor? Is that you?” said Wragg’s voice.
“Here Captain,” said Bobinder.
“Look,” said Wragg’s voice, “Melia wants to, er, show me, er, some etchings, she says. I might be a little while.”
“That’s okay,” said Bobinder. “Things are getting interesting here too.” The guards and the girl were now halfway down the portico and just passing in front of the three officers.
“Just try to find out about those crucifixions,” said Wragg. “Melia says there’s some sort of list or roster.”
“I think we’ll find out something about them shortly,” said Bobinder, watching the girl pass them, carrying her beam, her cloak trailing behind her naked body. “We’ve lost Eulalia and Messaline.”
“Look,” said Wragg, “I’ve got to go. I don’t want Melia to get suspicious. Tends to spoil the mood, if you know what I mean. Eul and Messa know how to look after themselves.”
“I hope you’re right,” said Bobinder. The communicator switched off.
The girl and her honour guard reached the end of the portico, a sort of curved patio, overlooking the hillside and the city, its lights twinkling below in the valley. A longer beam of wood lay on the stone floor of the patio, next to a square hole. The guards removed the beam from the girl’s shoulders. She wrapped herself in her cloak as they fitted her beam to the longer beam to form a cross.
"If you want my assessment,” said Hondoboot, “if this was a story, I would say this would be obvious foreshadowing.”
“Why would you think that?” asked Loxuru.
“Messaline? Eulalia?” said Bobinder into his communicator. “Anyone? Come in please.”
to be continued...
Back on the force, the worst we could do was bust you back to Meter Maid...