[We got to do two of the "Star Trek's favourite number" challenge. Here's the Romulan version.]
The Commander surveyed the bridge of the Mogai warbird and allowed himself a faint smile of satisfaction. Everything was in its place; the metal of the deck gleamed spotlessly, the crewmen were dutiful at their stations... it was all in order. His ship was a credit to the Empire. As it should be, he reflected, since his mission was of some importance.
"Sir!" A crewman spoke up, urgently, from a science station. "I have a contact - decloaking on our port quarter."
"One of ours?" The Commander frowned.
"An adapted battlecruiser, sir."
"Signal them that we do not require assistance." The Commander's frown deepened. What could bring one of those ships out here? Surely the Tal Shiar would not send one to monitor him - how could his loyalty be in question?
"I recommend caution, sir," a centurion spoke up. "The Republic is known to have captured some of the adapted vessels -"
The Commander directed a quelling glare at his subordinate. "You are not to refer to D'Tan's traitors as 'the Republic'," he ordered. "To do so imputes some spurious air of legitimacy to -"
"Sir!" someone shouted. "They're locking weapons!"
And at that moment, something hit the bridge - and the lights flickered, the artificial gravity wavered sickeningly, and the display screens scrambled and filled themselves with unintelligible mush.
From the forward tines of the adapted battlecruiser, ribbons of disruptor light reached out, tearing at the Mogai's screens, ripping into its port wing and drawing out scatterings of debris that flared and burned in the gusts of escaping atmosphere.
The Commander was still shouting orders when the first of the plasma torpedoes hit.
---
Subcommander Aitra turned away from the RRW Messalina's tactical console. "Target destroyed, sir," he reported.
T'Laihhae nodded. "Very good. Follow their projected course. One-half impulse, and restore the cloak."
Not for the first time, Aitra wished he knew what was going on in his commanding officer's head. The massive, ominous form of the Messalina swung smoothly about, passed the cooling fragments of what had been an Imperial warship, and faded from view. On the bridge, the light took on that faintly disquieting, ethereal look that it had when the cloaking system engaged.
"If our information is correct," T'Laihhae said, "and so far it has proven to be... then we will reach the Mogai's intended destination in some nine hours." Her dark eyes turned, first to Aitra, then to the other officers on the bridge. "Get some rest," she ordered them. "I fully intend to... we should be fresh, ready for whatever we find there." She stood, the dark folds of her command insignia falling behind her. Often, she dressed informally, as did most of the crew - today, though, she was in full Republic dress uniform, black with gold highlights, an almost excessively militaristic look. Aitra had no idea what that said about her mood.
He got up from the tac console, nodding to the Reman officer who took his place. He would rest, he thought to himself... later. For now, he needed to talk to someone.
---
He found Retar down in the bowels of the ship, working on one of the glowing conduits that snaked along the electroplasma system. Aitra decided not to distract her. If the supposedly tamed Borg-derived nanites in those conduits ever got loose... death might be the best thing to happen, then. So he waited, patiently, while the lanky engineer finished her work.
When she saw him, she smiled. Retar was tall, and thin, with cheekbones too broad and a chin too narrow for any conventional beauty... but her face was pleasant enough, for all that, and the smile made it light up. "Aitra! Good to see you." He felt himself smiling in response.
He squatted down on the deck beside her. "I was wondering if I could talk to you."
"Always." Retar brushed an errant lock of auburn hair away from her eyes. "What's up?"
Aitra sighed. "I'm just... I wish I knew more about what was going on. Retar, you've been with Admiral T'Laihhae longer than I have - do you know how she thinks?"
"Ah." Retar's smile slipped. "I guess not, not really. I mean, yeah, I've been with her crew for a while, but I'm not one of her real 'in' group - I don't know her from Crateris or Virinat, say -"
"Yes," Aitra said, thoughtfully, "Tovan Khev, Satra, the others - they're sort of, well, a clique all to themselves, aren't they?"
"Oh, Tovan's not so bad," said Retar, "when you get a couple of ales down him, at least. But, to be honest, I'm not sure even they know everything about the Admiral. Tovan knows something bad happened to her, before she came to Virinat - but I don't think she talks about it, even to him. She's a very private sort of person." She looked away from him. "Of course, a lot of us have stuff we don't want to talk about -"
Aitra nodded. "I suppose so."
"You were at Hfihar, weren't you? Before you joined us?"
"I was." He shuddered. "You remember that Starfleet officer we had to ferry around a little while back? Shohl?"
"The scary Andorian? Yeah."
"She was at Hfihar, too. Sometimes you're glad to see a scary Andorian.... She was one of the Fed officers who helped when the salt vampires came. I don't think she'd remember -" He stopped, took a deep breath, went on. "I was hiding in one of the buildings, and I felt something - pulling at me. Inside my head. It was like being in a dream, looking at myself from the outside... seeing myself go to the door, watching my own hand reach out for the handle, and I could see the thing waiting outside for me, and I couldn't stop myself.... And then that scary Andorian came out of nowhere with a plasma gun in her hands, and all of a sudden I could smell the burning hair and hear the thing scream, and I could move again. So I hid, until they gave the all-clear and got us moving to the evacuation point."
He took another breath. "The things were boiling out of the ground, still, and the Feds and the Klingons, both, were fighting like demons, holding them off. I was so tired, so scared, I just wanted to lie down and die... but a big Klingon took a moment out of the fight, told me he wouldn't let me die without honour... and went back to killing the damn things. So I kept moving. I felt so damn helpless, though. I was determined, afterwards... never to be that helpless again." He became aware that Retar's hand was resting on his shoulder. "Sorry. I don't talk about this, much."
"Maybe you should." Her green eyes were kind, concerned.
"Well," he said. "Maybe there's something like that in the Admiral's past... and I wouldn't blame her for not wanting to talk about it. But with her being so - so guarded - all the time -"
"You don't know what she's going to do," Retar said, "and you don't like it, because it makes you feel helpless."
"Damn, you're good," he said, and she laughed.
"Come on," she said, and stood. "Let's get a bite to eat in the mess, and think about something more cheerful for a while."
He stood up too. "What about you, though?" he asked. "What don't you talk about?"
Her eyes clouded, briefly. "Story for another time, maybe."
---
In the Messalina's conference room, a hologram rotated slowly in the central display. "It's a converted satellite repair station," T'Laihhae explained to the ring of officers grouped around the conference table.
"Converted to what?" Retar asked. T'Laihhae favoured her with a brief flash of smile.
"We suspect it's being used as a drop-off point," she said. "Exchanges of smuggled technology. The Mogai was supposed to be picking up whatever... the Tal Shiar's contacts... had left for them. Now, we're going to take it instead."
"Do we know what it is?" asked the Reman science officer, Resluk.
"No," said T'Laihhae. "But, whatever it is, if a single Mogai warbird could handle it, I'm sure we can. We will be careful when we go in, though. The station is powered down, and showing no life signs. Our guess is that the Mogai would have transmitted some sort of recognition signal to wake up its automated systems. In the absence of that recognition signal... well, we need to proceed carefully. We'll insert a small team from one of the Tiercel shuttles, while the Messalina remains nearby, under cloak."
"You'll need to send a team with a wide range of skills, then," Aitra said.
"Are you volunteering?" T'Laihhae asked, dryly.
"If you need me," Aitra replied. "You need some tac officers, certainly."
"And you're one of the best I have," said T'Laihhae. "So that's settled, then. Science: Satra, Resluk, your expertise should cover most things. Engineering... Retar, you can come and back me up, there."
You're going yourself? Aitra bit down on the question before asking it aloud. Of course she was. Whatever else she was, T'Laihhae was always one to lead from the front.
"That will do for an initial reconnaissance, at least." T'Laihhae stood. "Let's get moving."
---
The transporter room on the station was cold, and dark, only a few emergency lights showing.
"This must be like home for you," Retar joked to Resluk. The Reman grunted.
Aitra looked warily around, his plasma-disruptor rifle at the ready. The station wasn't Romulan-designed... he didn't recognize the architecture, in fact. Not Federation, not Klingon... simply alien. Bleak, functional, and very dark. He felt his tactical instincts awakening. Darkness, shadows, exposed structural members and conduits - all too many hiding places for a potential enemy.
No life signs, he reminded himself.
"Power outputs are minimal," Retar said, consulting her tricorder. "Just enough to maintain life support... but why?"
"Standard policy, for some cultures," T'Laihhae commented. "A refuge - somewhere to make for, if your ship is in distress. A kind thought. And one often subverted, by smugglers and the like." She went to the door of the transporter room. It remained closed. "No automated systems...." On the wall, nearby, was a manual wheel. She used it to crank the door open. Behind it, the mouths of two stairways gaped, lightlessly. "Satra, with me; we go up. You three, go on down. If we find nothing, we regroup here in thirty minutes." Her smile flashed for a fraction of a second. "I don't need to tell you to be careful."
Please, Admiral, thought Aitra, take your own advice. He led the way down the stairway, gun ready, scanning the shadows for any threats. The gravity settings felt odd, light. He heard the clang of boots on the metal stairs, heard T'Laihhae and Satra's footsteps fading in the distance. If anyone was nearby, they'd have heard them... but there were no life signs....
They reached the foot of the stairs, and stared down a corridor whose far end was lost in blackness. "See anything?" Retar asked Resluk.
"Not much," the Reman answered. "I think it opens up, about fifty, sixty metres further ahead."
Retar nodded. "Figures. I think it's a loading bay of some kind. I don't know who built this place, though - their idea of efficient design seems way off." She gave a short laugh. "Of course, when you look at our ship, I guess maybe we shouldn't judge!"
"Let's keep moving," Aitra said. "But watch out for booby traps... tripwires, deadfalls, the good old-fashioned stuff."
"Never goes out of style," Retar agreed. They started to advance down the corridor.
They got perhaps thirty metres further down when all the lights went out. Retar swore audibly. Aitra blinked. Darkness everywhere - even the status lights on his weapon were gone. He fumbled for his wrist, touched his communicator. Nothing.
"Damping field," Retar said. "We must have triggered something... or the others did. Damn."
"Resluk?" Aitra asked.
"Even Reman eyes need something to go on," the scientist said. For a moment, Aitra's imagination dwelt on the possibilities of being lost in the dark. "What about the artificial gravity?" he asked.
"Maybe whoever did this isolated the life support systems," Retar answered. There were sounds of fumbling coming from her direction, Aitra realized. Then, there was a sound like something small breaking -
- and, suddenly, there was light again; a faint yellow-green glow. "Ow!" said Resluk.
"Too bright?" Aitra could see Retar's grin by the light in her hand. "Chemical light pencil," she said, holding up the glowing rod. "I always carry a few, in case I need to work in dark spaces. Looks like they came in handy."
Resluk grunted. Aitra nodded approval - but the light seemed very small, and it made the darkness around them all the more oppressive. "What now?" he asked.
"Find the generator for the damping field," said Retar, "and turn it off."
"How do we do that?" asked Resluk. "We don't have any instruments, any tools -"
"Turn it off? The old-fashioned way - hit it till it stops working."
"Oh," said Aitra, "spoken like a true engineer."
Retar laughed. "As for finding it in the first place," she said, "let's see if I can't trace some power runs. There are conduits all around us - if I'm right, they should link to something in that open area ahead."
"If you're right," said Resluk.
"Do you have a better idea?"
"To be honest," said the Reman, "no. So let's move. And point that thing away from my eyes, will you?"
Aitra slung his useless gun on his shoulder. His right hand went to his left forearm, where he kept his knife sheathed.
---
Shadows danced and reeled as Retar set the glowing tube down on top of a dead console. Aitra glanced around, nervously. Stay calm, he told himself. If you hear anything, it can only be us. Or possibly Satra and the Admiral. Nothing to be afraid of.
The open area was large, and cluttered with machinery. In the middle of it stood ranks of dome-topped cylinders, somewhat larger than man-sized, ranked six across and - he couldn't see how many deep. They didn't look like they were part of the station; the markings on them looked vaguely familiar... but he couldn't make them out, without more light. And Retar needed the light, if she was to trace the circuits. The engineer had one panel of the console open, and was staring into it, frowning. Resluk hovered over her, his eyes narrowed. Nothing for me to do but keep watch, Aitra thought.
Then he saw the face.
Somewhere out in the dark, at the edge of the little circle of light cast by Retar's glow-tube... the face appeared. It was a woman's face, symmetrical, beautiful in a cold, austere way, but with something odd and dead about the eyes. In the instant Aitra saw it, it vanished.
He yelled, wordlessly. Because one word came to his mind, unbidden: aehallh. Monster-ghost. No life signs. Whatever it is... it isn't alive.
"What is it?" Resluk asked.
Aitra found his voice. "There's somebody out there!" Or something, he didn't add.
"No," said Retar, "can't be. No way anyone could transport in, not with this damping field running -"
But Resluk was turning around, scanning the area with his nocturnal eyes. "He's right," he said. "There's someone there, all right - looks like a woman -"
He moved, swiftly, towards the edge of the light. Aitra followed, drawing the knife from its forearm sheath.
The figure stepped out from behind a stanchion. It looked like a woman, clad in a form-fitting black body suit - no wonder, Aitra realized, he'd only caught sight of the face. It stepped towards Resluk, and it swung its right arm up, from the waist, the fingers of its right hand held taut and flat like a blade. The yellow-green light glinted on metal eyes.
There was a sickening squelching sound as the android drove its arm hard into Resluk's body. The Reman screamed, once. The android pulled its arm free with a wet ripping noise, and liquid spattered onto the deck. Resluk fell, and lay very still.
Aitra moved, fast. The android's arm came up for another killing blow, hand still green and dripping with Reman blood. Aitra's martial arts training took over; he twisted so that the blow glanced off his side, and at the same time lashed out with the knife. The android moved too fast; the blow, aimed at its throat, struck its forehead as it ducked away. False skin parted under the blade's edge, revealing metal and blinking diodes beneath. Aitra dodged the next lethal blow, struck out again - and found his hand caught in the thing's grip. The hand that held him looked slender, feminine, delicate... but its strength was that of a machine.
"Why do you resist?" The android's voice was a musical, breathy purr. "You must know I will destroy you."
Then its grip slackened, and it sagged and fell, limply, to the deck, and Retar was standing over it, breathing heavily.
After a moment, Aitra found his voice. "Thanks," he said, unsteadily. "How'd you switch it off?"
Retar held up her hand; there was a black, gleaming disc in it. "Figured it had to be wearing something that counteracted the damping field. This was on its neck, didn't look like it fitted... so I pulled it off."
Aitra swallowed hard. What if you'd been wrong? "Does that mean you can get some of your gear to work?"
Retar frowned. "Maybe, if I can figure this thing out. Resluk - might have helped -"
Aitra stooped over the Reman scientist. Beyond help now. He said a silent prayer to the Elements for Resluk's spirit.
Then he heard footsteps, and was instantly at the alert. Female faces - but this time he knew them: T'Laihhae and Satra. T'Laihhae looked down at Resluk, and Aitra heard her swear under her breath. "We heard the scream," she said.
"Do you know what's going on here?" Aitra asked.
"I'm beginning to think so." T'Laihhae had a glow-tube in her hand, too - of course, she'd be prepared, Aitra thought. She walked over to the dome-topped cylinders. "We found the station's control room," she said, "and what looked like a message." She examined the markings on one cylinder, the markings Aitra had thought looked familiar.
"Yes," she said, after a moment. "Stolen Federation androids. Four dozen of them, the latest of their experimental HSM series. It stands for 'Hybrid Soong-Mudd'," she explained. "Two sources of Fed android technology."
"Androids?" Aitra stared at her blankly. "Why do the Tal Shiar want androids?"
"Oh, that makes perfect sense. The Tal Shiar are allied with the Elachi, and the Elachi's... assimilation programme... is biological in nature. So it won't work on androids." T'Laihhae shook her head. "The Tal Shiar doesn't ally with anyone - unless they've worked out, in advance, some way to betray them."
"So what do we do? Destroy them?"
"Tempting." T'Laihhae's gaze flickered towards the Reman's body. "But the Federation would be... happier... if they were returned. Even artificial beings have rights, in the Federation. And we need to keep our allies happy."
"Even this one?" Aitra kicked the inert shape of Resluk's killer.
"We'll have to see about that. First thing, though, must be to get this damping field down and make contact with the ship. Retar, are you tracing the power runs?"
Retar nodded. "I think I have something here."
"Good." T'Laihhae looked around. She pointed towards what looked like a pile of metal strips beside one of the cylinders. "Android restraints. Get those onto - her - before we restore the power. They must have left one on guard duty while the others were powered down for delivery."
"One question," Aitra said. "Who are they? Who stole Federation androids, and how did we find out about this in time to stop it?"
But T'Laihhae merely smiled and shook her head. Let me guess, Aitra thought, a story for another time.
---
Messalina sped across space at full transwarp speed, away from the burning remnants of the transfer station: Resluk's funeral pyre.
The door to the bridge hissed open. Retar's face was grim as she stepped inside. "I've got someone here with - something she wants to say," she said. She turned to the doorway. "Come on in."
The android stepped onto the bridge. Its feet were free, but its hands were still shackled by the metal bars Aitra had fitted. Someone had cut away the portion of its skin that he'd damaged, so that a segment of its forehead now showed as bright metal, bright as its eyes. "You are Vice Admiral T'Laihhae i-Kanai tr'Aellih," it said. "I have a serial number, but I do not use it socially. My name is Ruby."
T'Laihhae looked steadily at the android, and said nothing. Aitra's gaze flicked rapidly between the two of them.
"Your engineer will confirm," said the android, "that I was operating under the influence of a behavioural inhibitor during our recent encounter."
T'Laihhae turned to Retar, one eyebrow raised in an interrogative arch. "I think it's telling the truth," Retar said. She held up the disc she'd taken from the android. "This thing contains a lot of equipment - not just countermeasures for the damping field. There's some sort of synthetic neural interface, and a memory package with a whole lot of programming information. I think it's compatible with her - its - internal systems -"
"It is," said the android. "Unfortunately." It stalked across the bridge to where Aitra sat at the tactical console. "I regret my attack on you," it said. "I regret - deeply regret - the death of your companion. I was not responsible for my own actions, but I was the instrument of his death, and for that I am sorry." Aitra could not read the expression on the mechanical face.
But, then, he thought, I can't read some Romulan faces, either.
"Federation androids don't, generally, act the way you did," T'Laihhae said. The android turned to face her.
"We have free will. I would not have done... what I did... of my own free will. And I am disposed to be... displeased... with those who took my will away from me."
"Understandable," said T'Laihhae.
"This being the case," the android went on, "I wish to offer you my services. They are not without value; I was constructed to a high specification. I offer you myself, to help defeat those who would have enslaved me... and in recompense for the life I took." She turned to look at Aitra. "I realize that, emotionally, some of you may find it difficult to accept this offer."
Aitra found his voice. "We all have our reasons for being here," he said. And both Retar and T'Laihhae glanced at him sharply.
"Quite," said T'Laihhae in dry tones. "Some of us... have done worse things. Very well. I accept your offer. Aitra, get those restraints off her."
Aitra rose. "What about the Federation?" he said. "Won't they be unhappy?"
"The Feds respect people's choices," said T'Laihhae. "As do we." She took the inhibitor device from Retar, held it before the android's eyes. "We do not use methods like this. The Federation will be happy enough to have forty-seven of their androids returned to them."
Aitra turned his attention to the android's restraints. Well, welcome aboard, "Ruby", he thought to himself. But my guess is, if anyone asks you how you got here... you'll tell them it's a story for another time.
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