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Reed's Armory -- A Malcolm Reed Fanfiction Archive .. |
Title: Technobabble
Author: Taryn Eve
Author's e-mail: [email protected]
Fandom: Enterprise
Rating: NC-17
Category: Slash
Pairing: Tucker/Reed/Sato
Series: Trip's Toolbox
Sequel to: Nailed
Warnings: BDSM, graphic sex and violence, some death
Summary: Trip reaches deep into his arsenal to try to save himself, Hoshi, Malcolm and Enterprise as the Toolbox series concludes.
Comments: Thanks to Saragirl for instilling more she-bang into the whole series. Also thanks to the readers who got into the series. Also thanks to past & present members of LD, Reed's Armory, LJ and especially EWB: my new motto is inspired by you. My other new motto: defy conventional wisdom by playing co-ed naked text twist with it!
Archived to Reed's Armory on 10/15/2003.
The Collar
An echo of an almost familiar voice from Hoshi's past spoke of a time when a man knows everything, yet can say nothing. The look in Tucker's eyes showed a man stumbling despite his pride.
"Damn it," he said, turning away from the collar on her neck. "I can't reconfigure this collar like I did my old one. Old Gelir rigged it differently and this warehouse we broke into really doesn't have the tools I need." He rubbed his face and glanced at Hoshi. "How do you feel?"
Hoshi restrained herself from spitting at the terrorist who had caused the Torman people so much grief. Instead, she selected a careful smile and shrugged from within her bonds. "My head still hurts and I'm hungry."
A worried look crossed his face. "I'm sorry I hit you so hard," he said, walking closer to examine her.
Yesterday, Hoshi was on her private island with the two human prisoners, Tucker and Reed, to interrogate them for their knowledge about Enterprise. Once she was done with them, part two of her master's plan could go into effect. Gelir had wanted her to let the two men off their leashes so she could track down those who might assist them within the Torman Resistance Party.
Within the course of a few hours, everything got out of her control. Tucker and Reed stole a boat and brought her back to the mainland as their hostage. In an hour, the Festival of Summer's Death would begin and the ship God's Hammer would go to war against all who tried to keep the Torman people from their freedom. Those false to the Torman cause would be dead by this time tomorrow.
Tucker stepped back from her with a hurt expression. "I'm sorry, Hoshi, but I can't do anything about your injury or that nasty collar until we get back to the ship. If I tamper with the thing, I might cause some serious damage to you."
"I understand," she said, making her voice meek. A few tears leftover from her frustrations slipped down her face.
Tucker inched closer and touched her chin, making her look up into his eyes. "Hoshi, I promise that we'll get you home as soon as Malcolm finishes what he's doing."
How odd, she thought. He acts as though he means it. Strange behavior for a terrorist.
Weakness overcoming her, she collapsed against the shelf to which she was chained.
"Oh my God," Tucker said, reaching for her arms. "Hoshi!"
Snarling, she kicked him in the kneecap as hard as she could. He yelled in pain and fell to the ground.
"Jesus," he said, letting loose a torrent of curses. "What did you do that for?" he asked, gasping. "I'm trying to help you."
Instead of answering him, Hoshi bent her neck so that her chin hit the center of the collar. "Minister Hoshi to the Revolutionary Forces. Send a security squad to my location immediately."
"Acknowledged, Minister."
Tucker stared at her in disbelief. "You can use it as a communicator?"
Hoshi gave him a knife sharp smile. "I suggested this particular modification a week ago."
A team of Gelir's handpicked Torman soldiers stormed into the warehouse. Tucker raised his arms into the air and shook his head.
One of the soldiers came over to Hoshi and freed her. "What of the other human, Minister?"
Hoshi recalled Malcolm Reed's desperate cries while she pleasured him on the island.
"Shoot him on sight. He's the dangerous one."
The Festival of Summer's Death
Although it was the hottest day of the year, the crisp air of fall was only days away. Hoshi looked forward to watching the leaves turning color and falling. It had been a long summer. The streets were lined with people as weary as she was. Less than a year ago, the Torman people had been the serfs of the ruling prince and his careless family. Now, thanks to Gelir and his loyal servants, everyone was free...everyone but the groaning man at Hoshi's feet in the ground car.
"Be quiet," Hoshi snapped.
Tucker opened his eyes and glared at Hoshi, but held his tongue. The collar around Hoshi's neck turned hot and she blinked a few times. Sometimes the device delivered telepathically enhanced messages to her from Gelir. At other times, it enhanced her emotions. In particular, it pushed her strong emotions of hatred for Tucker, the man who betrayed the revolution.
She couldn't understand him. Once he walked among them as a Torman man, yet he used all his gifts to try to destroy his own people. Gelir described him as human to the core&emdash;quick to judge and even quicker to condemn something he couldn't possibly understand.
Hoshi knew she was different, even though she looked like Tucker and the hated man Reed. Though she couldn't remember more than flashes of the past, she felt a deep rooted devotion to the land and the people surrounding her, cheering her name as she brought the traitor to the central plaza in the city beyond the castle.
In the distance, she could see the warship God's Hammer. With any luck, it would soon strike down the enemies who wanted to steal the freedom of the people. Tomorrow, after the end of the festival, Gelir planned to launch the ship against the Vulcan convoy that was approaching the system. The Vulcans assured Gelir that their intentions were peaceful and in the interests of trade, but scans showed that the human ship Enterprise accompanied them.
Hoshi was aware of her past. Gelir's control of the collar was imperfect and at times, she dreamed about her old life. Tucker's face was almost always staring at her and sometimes she made Reed laugh. Had they loved her? Right now she didn't care. It was someone else's life and the memories couldn't override her convictions. She needed to serve Gelir and her people. Nothing, not even the shadow of a love she once cherished, would prevent her from doing her duty.
The car slid to a halt. A thick-muscled guard helped her out of the vehicle and onto the hot pavement. The sunlight struck her full force, making her feel exposed. As if trying to protect her own identity, she covered her face with her hands, but she knew it was useless. Reed was out there and he would find her once again. Where Tucker would try again and again to be her friend, Reed would attempt to bring her down and this time, he wouldn't hold anything back.
Hoshi approached the platform and knelt before the people gathered for the coming ceremonies. The crowd fell silent and stared at her with an air of expectation. Though her skin and hair set her apart from them, she felt a kinship with the Torman people because she understood their suffering.
For years, the aristocracy bled them dry while reaping the benefits of the trade goods and technology the Torman had to offer. Malnutrition and illiteracy would become myths of the past once the proper care programs were put into place. Hoshi's own communications ministry had a far-reaching agenda. Each Torman person would receive his own communications collar. The benefits were undeniable. A golden age was about to dawn for these poor, misguided people. First, there was the small matter of the traitor Tucker.
She raised her hand for attention. "This man walked among us as our own and yet he betrayed us. He would have destroyed God's Hammer and used it against our Lord Gelir." The crowd muttered in protest and Hoshi shook her head. "We must punish this man and use him as an example for all those who seek to meddle in our affairs."
Grimacing, Tucker looked away. Hoshi grabbed his chin and forced him to look into her eyes. Instead of the hatred she expected she was surprised to find an air of disappointment.
"By the authority given me by Lord Gelir and the Revolutionary Council, I sentence you to die, Tucker."
The crowd erupted into a frenzy of cheers. Tucker muttered something she couldn't hear, but his body language spoke of his defiance. Ignoring his reaction, Hoshi picked up his chain and pulled him off the platform. Hands tried to pull him away from her control, but the guards pushed away the peasants and led her to the silk pavilion housing Gelir and the Council members. Gelir himself was absent, but one of the ministers greeted them.
"So this is your fellow human," the man said, giving Tucker an intrigued look. "I should like to have my physician look him over after the ceremony. We might learn a bit from his remains."
The physician emerged from the shadows. To Hoshi's dismay, it was the idiot woman who bungled the dosage of the sedative on Tucker on the island.
"There isn't much to this species," the blonde woman said, sounding dismissive. "They are as primitive as the stepplegoats grazing the countryside."
Hoshi glared at her. "I came from that species. Besides, there won't be much to examine after the ceremony. I'm having Tucker burned to death."
The doctor gave Hoshi a sickly smile. "Ah. Have you tried the canapés? They are quite robust."
At a wave from Hoshi, the guards pushed Tucker to the rug and left the tent. The minister searched for the canapé tray and offered it to Hoshi, who sank to her feet onto the couch. The doctor kept flashing her toothy smile. Irritated, Hoshi picked up a seafood-laden treat and bit into it.
As she chewed, the sounds of the crowd melted away. Hoshi's fingers became heavier and heavier and the minister sitting across from her slumped over. Blinking furiously, Hoshi fought her sudden paralysis&emdash;to no avail. Helpless, she slumped against the back of the couch.
"You poisoned her?" Tucker asked the doctor.
The woman pulled a scanner out of her robe's pocket. "Doctor Phlox told me the effects will last for less than ten minutes. We must attempt to move her out of the dampening field as soon as possible."
"Any ideas on that?" Tucker asked. "We seem to be surrounded by a few thousand people, in case you didn't notice, T'Pol."
The woman walked up to Hoshi and knelt before her. "You must help us." T'Pol tugged on the edge of the collar.
Hoshi tried to shake her head. "No," she whispered with all her power. "You can't take me."
T'Pol looked from her scanner to collar to Tucker. "I cannot remove the device here. We need to wait for Enterprise and its resources."
Fighting against his bonds, Tucker crawled across the rug to join them. "Hoshi, you have to tell us how to remove your collar. We want to bring you home, sweetheart."
No, Hoshi screamed inside her head. "You're the enemy. Lord Gelir will kill you all."
A ray of sunlight struck Hoshi's face as the entrance to the tent was thrown aside. Gelir, his face dark with anger, walked in as the woman T'Pol slid out of sight.
"You!" he screamed at Tucker. "Again and again you defy me."
Tucker looked up at Gelir and smiled. "Even if you kill me, I'll still win. You know why?"
Gelir pulled him closer and stared into his eyes. "Why, human?"
With another smile, Tucker pulled away and looked at Hoshi. "Everything you do is out of hate, Gelir."
The Torman rebel smiled as if flirting with the other man. "But I have what I want, Tucker. I have a castle, the will of the people, my warship, and your woman." He pulled Hoshi into his arms. "She will never be Torman, but Hoshi will be mine once your ashes are cold."
As Hoshi's eyes closed, the sound of Tucker screaming surrounded her, drowning out the jumbled dreams of the past and winters yet to come.
Hammerfall
Once upon a time, Malcolm Reed was taught to be an officer and gentleman. As he slipped onto the cargo bay of the alien ship, he shed that skin and gave himself permission to do whatever he needed to reclaim the lives of his loved ones. The extended torture of having first Trip and then Hoshi slip from his grasp over and over again was beginning to wear his nerves to a razor-thick fineness. At any given moment, he knew the razor would fall and cut through his civilized inhibitions.
He was going to blow up God's Hammer. Perhaps an obvious conclusion for anyone who knew his history...but after all, he thought to himself, I'm more dangerous once you get know me.
Trying to outrace the doomsday clock--as personified by the Torman ship--made Malcolm's heart skip a few beats. The consequences of any failure on his part would lead to the deaths of thousands, perhaps more. He hoped that somehow Enterprise was receiving more help than just the decoy convoy of Vulcan ships. As much as the Vulcans antagonized Captain Archer in the past, they were still humanity's closest allies. Malcolm didn't know if they'd been able to send any operatives to this world, but his gut instinct told him that he wasn't the only would-be saboteur at large.
There was no one else in sight as he boarded the alien ship while disguised as a priest making a ritual blessing. Under better circumstances, Malcolm would have loved the graceful lines and advanced weaponry of God's Hammer. Using his formidable engineering skills, Trip synthesized the best of human and Torman ship design to make an unparalleled masterpiece. There would never be another ship like it, Malcolm thought with some regret as he made his way to the smaller cargo bay. A few months ago, he'd stowed some supplies there while in his mercenary disguise. He wasn't sure if Gelir would have discovered the site by now, but securing the supplies would make his task of destroying the alien warship much easier.
Security on God's Hammer was lax, no doubt due to the drunken bacchanalia raging in the festival outside the ship. The intense heat and the wine the Torman people loved so well combined to place the entire planet was under the spell of the last day of summer. Even the few alien mercenaries still employed by Gelir abandoned their posts to indulge. Malcolm skulked through the empty corridors, his senses stretched tight because of the unexpected silences.
A shadow darted across the next corridor. Sweat broke out along Malcolm's forehead as he raised his weapon. His heart slamming against his ribcage, he made the turn, ready to fire to kill.
"Don't shoot!"
Malcolm jerked his hand so the shot went over the heads of Captain Archer and Travis Mayweather. Both men fell to the ground while Malcolm threw himself against the bulkhead.
"Shit," Malcolm hissed. "Sir, I almost killed you."
"I noticed." Archer winced as Mayweather held out a hand to help him rise. "It wasn't easy hoofing it thirty kilometers so we could avoid the dampening field this damn boat is generating. I take it you have a plan of action, Lieutenant?"
Malcolm took a deep breath and checked the area to make sure his shot hadn't set off any alarms. "It's a simple plan, really."
"So where are the explosives?" Mayweather asked in a wry voice.
Malcolm wrinkled his nose. "Am I that predictable? No, don't answer me. Let's go." He led them farther down the corridor and into the smaller cargo bay. The crates he'd carefully lined up ages ago still sat where he'd left them. Suspicious, he gave them a lookover and realized there was an extra crate.
"We don't have a lot of time to move," Archer said. "This excursion of ours is totally off the record at the suggestion of our Vulcan friends. How long until we get back on the road?"
Mayweather, as if reading Malcolm's thoughts, handed him a scanner. Malcolm couldn't remember all the details, but it seemed like the contents of the crates were undisturbed. It looked like the extra crate contained a communications array of some sort. Using the scanner, he primed the components inside his crates to begin the sequence that would lead to the explosions he so dearly loved. Yes, it was overkill, but Gelir's actions over the last few months had earned him a hefty payback.
"We can leave as soon as I have a little talk with the computer's key systems," Malcolm said, walking over to the cargo bay's main console. With any luck, he could turn off the dampening field that kept them from using Enterprise's transporters. "Where are we going from here, sir?"
"We need to check in on T'Pol," Archer said, looking at the console over Malcolm's shoulder. "She's supposed to make contact with Commander Tucker and assess the situation. Have you heard anything on Hoshi?"
Malcolm keyed in a few simple commands that would in turn execute the secondary programs he needed in order to begin the ship's destruction.
"Hoshi?" he asked, distracted. "I think we're going to have problems with her."
Behind them, the computer system chimed. "I'm in," Malcolm said, relief flooding his body. "We've got to leave now."
A loud siren shrieked from within the extra crate.
"What's that?" Archer asked, tensing his body.
A feeling of dread crept over Malcolm as he raised the scanner at the questionable crate. It began to shimmer with the blue transporter effect of the Torman system. Seconds later, it vanished.
The captain took out his communicator. "Archer to Enterprise. Three to transport."
"Enterprise to Archer, this is Lieutenant Hess. Something just transported into Engineering and it's giving us an evacuation warning in Ensign Sato's voice. I think it's an explosive of some sort!"
"Transport us back now," Archer ordered.
Malcolm groaned, cursing himself for falling into whatever trap the damned woman had set for them. As the transporter claimed him and the others, he tried to remember the woman Hoshi Sato had been. As Enterprise shimmered around him, he knew he'd failed, because he could only remember the woman who hated him even as she fucked him without mercy.
Within minutes, Malcolm stood before the crate in the middle of Engineering and shook his head in admiration. The woman, whoever she was, still knew him well enough to use his own strategies against him. Instead of a communications array, an elegant and tiny thermonuclear device awaited within the confines of the innocent-looking crate.
Time slowed down so that Malcolm could hear the ticking of a melted clock as he observed as Archer raced around, shouting orders at Hess and at Malcolm. From a distance he could hear the Captain: frantic to save his ship while God's Hammer succumbed to Malcolm's plans and exploded. As the clock on the nuclear device began its countdown, an abstract portion of Malcolm's mind pounded with lust for the woman who was going to destroy him. He loved the woman Hoshi once was; he hated her new persona, but he wanted to fuck her. With all the power he yet possessed, he wanted her to know how much he felt fucked over by her.
For the first time in his life, he fully understood the concept of sadomasochism. This close to the edge of death, he wanted to come forever.
Simple Machines
Even Torman church bells sounded fucked up to Trip as he opened his eyes. Instead of the clear, ringing tones he remembered from the Sundays spent at his grandma's house, the bells ringing now sounded clangorous and noisy--as if the Tormans almost, but not quite, understood the idea of jazz.
His ribs hurt more than most of the rest of his body. Hoshi's bodyguards went to town on him after Gelir left, careful not to harm his face. For her own unstated reasons, Hoshi wanted his blue eyes untouched. If the eyes were the windows to the soul, then Trip was afraid she was going to do her best to smash them.
Her personality was shifting again, thanks to Gelir's manipulations. The Torman overlord changed her collar's settings so that now Hoshi was unreachable. Even the sound of his voice enraged her. So Trip sat there in the half-lit tent, listening to the crackle of the bonfire outside and pleading with her in silence.
She tilted her head at him. "You want me to remember my past with you," she said in a voice he strained to here over the noise from the crowd outside. "Don't you?"
Unwilling to provoke her, he closed his eyes and tried to recall her smiles and the way Malcolm looked after coming. He heard Hoshi rise from the couch and looked at her as she knelt before him. For a moment, a flash of doubt appeared in her eyes, but then she ran a finger against his jawline.
Within his bonds, his dick reacted to her sensual touch and thrust against his torn uniform. Hoshi felt his reaction and rubbed her breasts against his chest. Feeling violated, he wanted to tell her to stop, to ask her why she was doing this if she hated him so much. As she gazed at him with fire flashing in her eyes, he knew the answer. She was trying to regain control.
Control. A lifetime ago, they played a control game in which she wrestled him into admitting that they both needed something more in their relationship. In doing so, they moved Malcolm into their bed before they fully understood the consequences to their hearts. Trip sensed that this twisted woman who was Hoshi's shadow wanted Malcolm because of the depth of his darkness. Malcolm would be willing to hurt and punish her in ways Trip wouldn't even have the courage to think about.
"Where is he?" Hoshi asked in a purr.
Trip winced. "You heard me order him to do whatever he needed to stop Gelir."
Hoshi bit Trip's ear, making him shiver. "He'll try to rescue you. I'm going to recapture him, you know."
"Of course he will," Trip said, wondering how long she'd keep Malcolm alive.
"Lord Gelir says I can have him after I burn you," she whispered, squeezing his dick.
A frustrated gasp escaped him. Desperate to reclaim his own body, he began a mental catalogue of simple machines, an elementary quiz he'd failed during his first week at the Academy. His early mistakes still haunted him and Hoshi used to laugh, telling him that he talked about levers and pulleys and screws in his sleep.
Lever, pulley, he thought. Think!
As if bypassing his resistance, Hoshi slipped open her cloak and pulled on his uniform to reveal his aching cock. A heavy groan escaped him as she straddled him and took him deep inside her. Trying to be stoic, he ignored her as she rubbed her breasts against him.
Oh, screw it...
No one would ever be able to engineer the small bridge that exists between hate and love and the incomprehensible power it brings to sex. She hated him, but he understood that she wanted to fuck him as an assertion of power. His head told him he was stupid to give in to the impulses of his body, but the woman riding him wore Hoshi's scent. The curves of her body and the warp of her soul combined to destroy and remake him. There was no room for God or Malcolm or the bells falling into silence here. There was only the simple machine of Trip's body, serving his beloved Hoshi one last time.
Keep Shooting
"So," Malcolm said to Porthos, "Commander Tucker is a prisoner of that nasty Gelir person, Hoshi is completely brainwashed out of her mind, T'Pol is blonde, and I have a nuclear bomb up my arse. Any questions?"
The dog, with his typical aplomb, ignored him.
Escorted by Mayweather and some armory officers, Captain Archer returned to the transporter room with a shake of his head. "Your idea of finding T'Pol by checking for her biosigns was dead on, Malcolm. Are you sure you want to lead the team?"
For once Malcolm wished the man would shove his ill-timed compassion aside. "We need the skills of all three of them in order to disarm the nuclear device, sir. I'm the best candidate for the rescue mission since I'm familiar with the people and their customs."
Archer stared down at his dog, who barked. "Don't yell at me. You'll get to come home soon." He looked at Malcolm and handed him Porthos' lead. "Good luck."
"Thank you, sir. We'll be back as soon as possible."
Malcolm made his way to the transporter platform with the dog at his heels. It felt odd taking an animal on a rescue mission, but at the meeting twenty minutes earlier, Phlox proposed that seeing Porthos might help trigger Hoshi's memories better than seeing her human crewmates.
In addition, Malcolm sensed that the captain had an ulterior motive in ordering his beloved pet off the ship. If the rescue mission failed, Enterprise would be doomed. Archer would remain aboard for as long as possible, but most of the remaining crew was in the process of being evacuated to the Vulcan convoy.
With less than an hour remaining on the nuclear device's clock, Malcolm, Mayweather, and his team from the Armory were going to do their best to extract the missing senior officers from the Torman festival ground.
Earlier, Malcolm's reconnaissance scans yielded the news that the destruction of God's Hammer hurt Gelir's credibility. The Torman High Priest wanted to cancel the rest of the Festival of Summer's Death, seeing the sabotage as a sign that Gelir was on the wrong path to enlightenment. Hoshi, as Gelir's mouthpiece, made a few speeches assuring the people that everything was under control&emdash;and that the infidel Tucker would meet his end and find salvation in the fire before the day was over. In addition to the regular broadcasts, Malcolm discovered a hidden message...from Gelir. The man's offer was so disturbing that Malcolm didn't report it to Captain Archer.
There was also the matter of their missing science officer. Even though T'Pol arrived on the planet with a communicator weeks ago, she failed to check in with any of Archer's contacts among the rebels. Malcolm reasoned that by going to her location, she would be able to lead them to the others. Earlier, they tried sweeping the city for Trip's life signs, but there was no indication of him or Hoshi. Gelir must have rigged some sort of equipment to mask their biosigns, Malcolm thought.
"What's the plan?" Mayweather asked. He looked so young and full of concern that Malcolm had to restrain his impulse to pat the ensign on the head and tell him that everything would be all right in the morning.
Instead, Malcolm took a deep breath and regretted the decision that made him quit smoking at seventeen. "We drive through the enemy as hard as we must in order to retrieve our own people," he said in a dispassionate voice.
With as much dignity as the dog displayed earlier, Mayweather saluted him. Under Archer's watchful eye, they transported to the surface. Malcolm fought off the urge to make sure he didn't arrive with the dog's tail behind him and mustered a confident smile for his troops.
"All right, ladies and gentlemen," Malcolm said as he shoved the dog's lead into Mayweather's hand. "It's time to find our people and get the fuck out of here. Use your weapons if you must. Ensign Mayweather, you've got exactly ten minutes to find T'Pol, Tucker, and Sato and return them to the ship. The rest of you back him up."
"What are you going to do?" Mayweather asked, his eyes dark with concern.
Hearing the roar of the bonfire, Malcolm smiled&emdash;he wasn't afraid of anything at this point&emdash;especially not his own death. "I'm going to start my weapon to lay down cover fire for you. I'm going to maximize the chaos I bring to this godforsaken arsehole world. I could explain my tactics further, but in the end, it's all just so much technobabble, Ensign."
"Are you going to be all right?" Mayweather asked, touching his arm.
"I'm fine," Malcolm said, shaking him off. "I just have to keep shooting."
Death by Fire
Damn, he was thirsty. All Trip wanted now was a cup of water. The look in Hoshi's eyes promised him a bucketful of piss if he asked. Flames from the fire crackled meters away. A few dogged members of the crowd were pelting him with rotten food and gasoline-soaked rags. It wouldn't be long before the final moments of his life.
Gelir walked up to him and checked the ropes binding him to the stake. "I hope they are not too tight," the hard-faced Torman man said. "Such a pity for a beautiful man like you to waste your life."
Trip drew himself up as straight as he could and spat in Gelir's face.
The Torman laughed. "A fighter to the last."
At the edge of the platform, Hoshi waved. "My lord, where is that doctor? The collar is making my head hurt again."
Gelir walked over to her and rubbed her temples until she gave him a small smile. The intimacy between them made Trip's head pound with fury. He clenched his fists and beat the back of his head against the stake.
"Stop it," a voice behind him hissed.
Tears of relief trickled down Trip's face. "Malcolm?"
"The one and only," his lover said in a low voice. "I was going to try to take out as many of them as I could, but then I saw you and had to come." Dressed in the cape and hood of a Torman priest, Malcolm made a sign of blessing over Trip's head.
"You have to go," Trip said, wriggling. "She's using me as bait to catch you."
"I know." Malcolm raised a cup of water to Trip's mouth. The hot liquid felt gritty, but it tasted like a cup of salvation.
"It's him!" Hoshi screamed, tugging on Gelir's arm.
Throwing the cup into the crowd, Malcolm whipped around and drew his phase pistol. Without hesitation, he aimed it at Hoshi and fired point blank. She staggered backwards into the arms of Gelir, who tossed her to the ground.
"No!" Trip gasped for breath and almost yanked his arms out of their sockets, trying to escape so he could help Hoshi.
"So my wild one has returned to me," Gelir said as he walked up to Malcolm. "I know you could not resist the lure of your woman and that dirty wretch Tucker." He leaned over and kissed Malcolm full on the lips. "Or me, for that matter. It pleases me that you chose to answer the message Hoshi smuggled to you. You're the one who meant something to me, not that deceitful Tucker. Come back to my bed and we'll share the wine you refused all those nights ago."
Malcolm sank to one knee. "A long time ago, strangers came to my people and offered us the stars." He looked back at Trip and shook his head. "What we didn't realize is that&emdash;" Rising to his feet, he picked up Gelir and hurled the struggling man into the bonfire. "Even the stars can burn us, foolish humans that we are."
Horrified, Trip watched as Gelir tried to escape from the fire. Malcolm drew his weapon, adjusted the setting, and shot Gelir in the chest. The Torman man writhed within the furious flames like an angry wax mannequin for an instant before falling still. Enraged, the shouting crowd surged forward as a brilliant burst lit up the sky. For a moment, Trip spotted the worried faces of Mayweather and an armory officer pushing away the Tormans who howled and punched at them.
One of Gelir's guards knocked Malcolm to the ground and he collapsed on top of Hoshi. Trip screamed their names as a rain of phase pistol fire consumed him. A millisecond of prayer ate his last thoughts&emdash;death for himself and a merciful eternity for his loved ones before it everything became pure light again.
Reconstruction
"Motherfucking son of a bitch!"
It seemed impossible, but Phlox's smile grew wider as Trip continued to rant. Red-hot pincers of pain stabbed Trip's head again as the alien scorpion shifted itself.
"Just allow my friend to do his work, Commander."
Choking on his own howls, Trip wanted to shove Phlox, his bedside manner, and the fucking scorpion out into the deepest part of space. Physical therapy, my ass, he thought. Torture!
Hoshi slid off her bed and glared at Phlox. "Make him shut up, Doctor."
The collar resting on her chest gleamed. Although Phlox and T'Pol tried their best, the collar was impossible to remove without causing immense pain to Hoshi. At Captain Archer's request, she was confined to Sickbay until someone worked out a viable plan to free her.
Trip caught a glimpse of Malcolm's sleeping form and forced himself to calm down. The other man needed his rest after undergoing multiple surgeries to repair his damaged kidney and shattered bones.
Hoshi caught his look of concern and walked over to Malcolm. She lingered over him, adjusting his blankets and checking his forehead. A brief flash of envy hurt Trip more than the scorpion. Because of Gelir's programming of the collar, Hoshi hated Trip with a passion. Several times over the last few days, he'd awakened in pain, because she slapped his face.
Captain Archer offered to have her restrained, but Phlox argued against it. The doctor felt that in order to fight off the collar's effects, she needed to be free to explore her environment and the people in it. She seemed to get along with Archer, T'Pol, Travis, and even Porthos well enough, but whenever Phlox used his influence to make her interact with Trip, she transformed into a cold-faced and disdainful harpy. It made Trip sick at heart, but he was beginning to consider the possibility that they would never recover the Hoshi he once loved.
Wrestling with the scorpion left Trip exhausted. He collapsed against his pillows and waited for sleep to claim him. He wanted to head back to work as soon as possible. Yesterday, the interim Torman government requested the aid of Enterprise and the Vulcans to restore order to the planet in the aftermath of the riots that broke out after the festival ended. The leaders of the Torman Resistance Party were happy to overlook the manner of Gelir's death since it ushered them into power. Trip was afraid another set of tyrannical idiots would further serve to crush the Torman people. However, he wasn't a diplomat and he didn't know a damn thing about reconstruction. He was just an engineer, flat on his back and waiting for the next heart-stopping mission.
Engineer Block
Water polo sucks, Trip decided after the third game. He loved Jon Archer like a brother, but if it weren't for the never-ending supply of buffalo wings, he would have booked hours ago.
"I'm going to make you watch a fourth game if you don't quit sighing like that," Jon growled.
Trip flipped him off. Before the Torman mission, he wouldn't have dreamed of doing something so inappropriate to his friend and captain. However, in the weeks since then, Jon was doing his best to creep into the bleak spaces in Trip's soul and their friendship was deepening in ways he never contemplated before.
"Do you need more ointment?" Jon asked in an evil voice. "I bet Phlox is still up."
"Shit, Cap'n." Trip pulled himself out of the chair and rubbed his ass. "This sucks. I go through all that mess with Gelir and come out of that almost okay, only to get knocked down by hemorrhoids."
Jon tossed him the half-empty tube of Denobulan ointment. "Think of it as God's way of telling you that you're going to be all right."
"Yeah, right," Trip snorted. "Let me know when you need this ointment. My gut tells me you're going to get a gazelle shoved up your butt for that remark. Karmic balance and all that."
With a laugh, Jon flipped him off as Trip walked out of the room. As the door closed behind him, Trip saw that Malcolm was waiting at the turbolift, holding a toolbox.
Trip raised an eyebrow at him. "You're up late, Lieutenant."
Over the last few weeks, both men avoided each other. Malcolm still needed some recovery time after almost being beaten to death. Although Trip was glad to see him on his feet, he wasn't comfortable with him either.
"You might suspect how useless I've felt ever since T'Pol and the bloody dog saved the ship without me. However, they can't be everywhere at once, so since I made my escape from Sickbay, I've been tinkering with the phase cannons and making some minor modifications in the Armory. I still try to do my part," Malcolm said, giving Trip an arch look. "Oh my&emdash;is that the aroma of Phlox's Very Special Ointment for Young Men and Ladies?"
Trip cracked up and suddenly everything was all right with Malcolm. "Yeah. You wanna kiss it to make it all better?"
Malcolm stared into his eyes. "I have a better idea." He leaned over and kissed Trip, taking him into his arms.
"You want to bring that toolbox over to my place?" Trip asked, feeling playful.
Holding up the toolbox, Malcolm smiled. "I was running some errands. Want to come along? I'm yours after that, I swear&emdash;but I prefer to play at my place, if you don't mind."
With a shrug, Trip followed him from deck to deck. He used to think the ship was quiet at night, but Malcolm's little tour gave him a glimpse into the busy secret life of Enterprise. Once Malcolm used to play the role of a man alone. Now he had friends and interests all over the ship. Although they made a requisite appearance in the Armory, they also made a pit stop in the Mess Hall to cheer on the latest players in the ongoing chess tournament. The unexpected social butterfly Malcolm also made a stop in Engineering, to trade with a gamma-shift engineer who collected alien coins.
Finally, Malcolm concluded his business and led the way to his quarters.
"Home sweet home," Malcolm said as they entered. "Love, we're home."
Hoshi slipped out of the blankets piled on the deck and gave them a sleepy smile. Trip gasped and backed out of the room.
"Trip?" she asked. Light reflected from the collar made her look pale and vulnerable.
Malcolm echoed her. "Trip, it's time for the three of us to talk."
Sharp chest pains assaulted Trip as he shook his head. "No, not yet."
"When?" Hoshi asked, giving him a challenging look. "Are you still afraid of me?"
Trip threw up his hands. He used to know how to be afraid. Now, he almost didn't feel anything.
"Phlox said recovery for all three of us would take time," Malcolm said. "But Hoshi has made some breakthroughs in the last week. Trip, with your help we can remove the collar."
Trip backed up against the door. "I'll order Lieutenant Hess to help you out."
Hoshi shook her head. "It's not a matter of cutting the damn thing off physically. Phlox, T'Pol and I have determined that I'm holding myself back&emdash;subconsciously, I want to keep the collar on and it has something to do with you, Tucker." She walked over to Trip and stared him in the eye. "Help me."
Anger flooded him and he pushed past her to pace the room. She wasn't Hoshi; she was a living ghost parading around in Hoshi's body. A desire to rip Gelir's head from his body hit him, but the man was already dead thanks to Malcolm, who gave him a pitying look.
"What?" Trip demanded. "Am I supposed to forget all this happened? Was Gelir's death supposed to be some stopping point for my guilt?"
"What guilt?" Malcolm asked in a quiet voice.
Under the weight of his rising self-loathing, Trip looked away. "You both were hurt because of me. I could have stopped Gelir that first day and I didn't. There were times when I was in his bed and I could have strangled him, and I didn't."
Malcolm took a few slow steps toward him. "I wish you wouldn't try to apologize for Gelir's actions. Hoshi and I were both aware of the danger when we went after you after Gelir took control of the castle. I understand that Captain Archer gave you orders to do what you could from within Gelir's inner circle." Malcolm caught his breath. "You did your duty and we love you for it."
"You just need to learn to forgive yourself." Hoshi joined them and put her hand in Malcolm's. "Won't you try, Monkey Wrench?"
Surprised, Trip stared into her eyes and recognized the Hoshi he loved. She might not remember everything and aspects of her personality might have permanently changed, but she was still the woman he wanted to love for the rest of his life.
His shoulders sagged and Trip let Malcolm pull him into their arms. As they embraced him, he refused to cry. The pain and guilt were too fused to his heart. It felt strange to know that their love endured despite all the pain and torture they'd gone through for him.
Today he didn't know how to remove Hoshi's collar. It would have to come off in its own time. For now, he needed time to teach himself how to love Hoshi and Malcolm again. He wasn't sure he could pull it off, but he was an engineer. It was his job to do the impossible.
The Toolbox
Trip entered his quarters, eager to jump into the shower after yet another long day arguing with the Torman Engineering Corps. It would take years to repair everything destroyed during the riots and Gelir's reign of blood. Still, Trip thought it was worth the effort.
As he turned on the lights, he caught sight of the battered toolbox Malcolm had taken to carrying around. It looked familiar to Trip, like one he used to own before the Torman rebellion. Malcolm said he liked to keep a close eye on it, so Trip walked over to the bathroom.
"Anybody here?" he asked, knocking on the door, which opened at his touch.
Inside, Hoshi and Malcolm smiled at him. Malcolm held a cake and Hoshi cradled a bottle of wine.
"What's the occasion?" Trip asked, puzzled. He was pretty sure it wasn't anyone's birthday.
Malcolm and Hoshi exchanged a conspiratorial glance. "We decided that you need to marry us."
Trip winced.
"Just nod yes," Hoshi suggested.
Instead, Trip made his way to the table with the toolbox. "I don't know if I'm ready to go that far," he said, fingering the table. "After all, you're still wearing that fucking collar. I'd say we have some unresolved issues here."
Hoshi let off an exasperated snort while Malcolm placed the cake on the table.
"Didn't you once tell me that a large part of engineering is risk?" Malcolm asked, placing a hand on Trip's shoulder. "Trust me&emdash;and trust Hoshi. We might not escape this horrific event we've been through without scars. But we have to start living again."
Hoshi set the wine bottle down next to the cake. "Isn't there some law that says 'objects in motion stay in motion'? Well, it's time to move, Mister Tucker."
Trip shook his head. "I don't have a flipping light switch, Hoshi. You can't jumpstart my head so that it works just fine again. That guy you fell in love with&emdash;he's gone, all right? Just gone."
A mask fell across Hoshi's face. For a moment, a flash of anger shined in her eyes. Malcolm's frowned and flipped the toolbox open.
"I can't change how you think," he said, "but I can at least return the relics that show how much we love you."
He and Hoshi retreated to the door while Trip peered into the toolbox. Inside were a screwdriver, Hoshi's folded up red silk robe, and a pair of handcuffs.
"You might say that those three tools made our relationship what it was," Malcolm said in a strong voice. "It's true, the three of us have a lot of power to hurt each other, but I'm going to take with me the happy memories of the joy you brought both of us."
Malcolm and Hoshi turned to go.
"Wait," Trip said, his heart thudding in his chest. He closed his eyes. "I think&emdash;I think it's time for me to stop thinking."
He held out his hands. Hoshi took his left hand and Malcolm his right and they guided Trip to the bed. First one kissed Trip, then the other. As he opened his eyes, he saw their love and concern for him.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, touching Hoshi's collar. "Sorry for all the mess with Gelir."
"We know," Hoshi said.
She cradled his face and kissed him again before rising to her feet. Malcolm helped her slip out of her clothes before shedding his own. Both showed signs of still healing injuries, yet didn't hesitate to join Trip on the bed. Within seconds, they stripped him bare.
It seemed like ages since he was with them, but he surrendered to their caresses as they ran their hands over his body. They continued with a slow massage, followed by light kisses. Hoshi's hair hid much of the collar, but wherever it touched Trip, it felt hot to the touch.
After more kisses, he abandoned his passivity in order to touch his lovers. More at ease with Malcolm, he kissed the other man's neck. Malcolm hardened and gave him an appreciative glance. Hoshi wrapped her leg around Trip's and smiled.
"Should we do something about that?" she asked. "Or yours?" She petted Malcolm's dick and then Trip's aching member. "Can't decide? Hmm, both it is."
Hoshi blinked for a moment, as if trying to remember something. Scrambling off the bed, she searched the nightstand's drawer until she retrieved the bottle of lube Trip kept there. Squeezing out a generous amount, she rubbed her hands and flashed them an evil grin before she took hold of their cocks.
"Oh," Trip groaned, with Malcolm echoing him as Hoshi began to stroke them.
Trip kissed Malcolm and then both men tried to kiss every bit of Hoshi that they could reach. She arched her back in appreciation as they stroked her nipples and took turns stroking her wet cleft. As the three of them began moaning, Trip and Malcolm exchanged the smiles of two men who know they are lucky bastards.
After another long moment, Hoshi scooted off the bed and motioned to Malcolm to rise. She made Trip stretch out on the edge of the bed and knelt at his crotch.
"Ready?" she asked Malcolm, who nodded.
Hoshi knelt and took hold of Trip's dick and swallowed a generous length. While she flicked her tongue over Trip, Malcolm entered her from behind. Satisfied moans escaped both men as the woman they loved continued to work her magic.
Trip tangled his fingers in her hair, loving the feel of her touch and the wild smile on Malcolm's face. Impossible that they were together again, Trip thought, but it couldn't be any other way.
Their passion drove away his pain. He heard Malcolm gasp as he continued to pump into Hoshi. Trip felt himself close to the edge, ready to spill himself into Hoshi, who moaned and writhed. He couldn't take it anymore.
"I'm there," he gasped, coming as Malcolm called their names.
As she released Trip from her mouth, Hoshi bucked and moaned as the collar fell to Trip's chest.
"Oh God," Malcolm said as Hoshi collapsed on top of Trip.
The three of them lay still in a heap until the coldness of the collar bit into Trip's chest.
"Darling?" he asked. "Are you all right?" He grasped the collar and hurled the thing across the room. Later, he'd make sure to disintegrate the thing.
When Hoshi didn't answer, Malcolm pulled himself upright and touched her shoulder. Shuddering, she rolled over and blinked at them. Filled with tender concern, Trip touched her face and she smiled.
"Can we do that again?" She kissed them both and Malcolm started laughing.
Relieved, exhausted, and exhilarated, Trip closed his eyes. Yeah, they could do that again. Unlike engineering, love was the easiest thing in the world to do.
-the end-
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