"Sir! Sensors indicate a massive explosion at coordinates 180 Mark Four, three parsecs from our position. It's consistent with a warp core breach," Ensign Arlita, a Deltan who had the Operations watch, reported to Commander Lataro.
Dear God, that's where the Limpopo is! Lataro thought, then he jumped to action. "All hands, yellow alert! Helm, hard about, take us to the source of the explosion. Tactical, I want a full sensor sweep of the area. Look foranything: debris, survivors, possible hostile vessels. Open a channel to the Limpopo." Then, to the ship's com system: "Bridge to Captain Maruu, we have a situation."
The acknowledgments came back as Jon Lataro felt an icy pit forming in his stomach. Minutes later, the Virgo arrived at the scene.
"Sir, I'm picking up a large debris field. Analysis indicates that the composition is consistent with that of a Federation shuttlecraft. There are also substantial quantities of debris of composition consistent with that of a T'rais vessel."
"Any lifesigns?"
"I'm picking up distress beacons from two Starfleet-issue environmental suits, but only one appears to be occupied. Life scans are consistent with those of a Benzite," Arlita reported.
"Bridge to Transporter Room Two: two to beam aboard," Lataro ordered.
[Acknowledged. Transport complete. Sickbay has been alerted, sir. Both suits are present, but only one was occupied.]
At that moment Captain Stephen Maruu appeared on the bridge. Lataro briefed him.
"Any signs of hostile activity?" the captain asked.
"None, sir. Sensors were reading some anomalies but I've run a diagnostic and it appears they were being adversely affected by the radiation from the blast," Arlita responded, puzzled by what her panel was showing her.
Wasn't there T'rais debris there a minute ago? Lataro started to speak up but the captain cut him off.
"We'll have to assume this was an accident. Mr. Lataro, contact Ms. Antillies and Mr. Benton; have them follow standard procedures for an accident investigation. I will report to sickbay and interview the crew personally. You have the bridge."
"Aye, sir," Lataro answered, getting a sense that there was something wrong here. Two suits, one crewmember. Why would Johnny do that? If he were already dead then it would make no sense for Bortu to waste time beaming out an empty suit. Two people, two suits; one person, one suit, but not one person, two suits! That makes no sense! he thought, afraid of what he'd have to do later that day.
Location: T'rais attack vessel
Johnny beamed aboard the T'rais attack vessel, figuring it to be the softer target. He found himself in an anonymous-looking corridor. He pulled out his tricorder and determined that he was approximately 20 meters from a large power source that had to be the ship's engineering compartment. Loud alarms screamed around him. Good! I've hurt the bastards a little! I may not make it out of this one but I'm going down swinging! He began running toward Engineering, phaser at the ready.
No sooner than he cleared the first frame than the T'rais picked up on his presence. Johnny ducked behind a support structure as a phaser beam shot past him. He fired blindly around the corner, setting his phaser formaximum dispersal. A loud scream told him he'd hit something.
Scanning first with his tricorder, Johnny proceeded down the corridor and retrieved the phaser rifle from his wounded assailant. It was an older Federation model, but still somewhat more stout than what he was currentlycarrying. Johnny stunned his opponent into unconsciousness (killing the wounded was not in his ethos) and moved on.
Location: USS Virgo
Ensign Bortu lay on a diagnostic bed, very frightened but otherwise unhurt. But he wasn't about to let on otherwise. If I refuse to talk to the Captain, I'll be written up for insubordination and sent to the brig. Which wouldat least put me in contact with Commander Benton, and I can tell him what the Major told me. But that's only if Benton's on watch right now. If not, I may end up interrogated anyway by whoever's running this plot.
"Can you tell me what happened, Ensign?" Captain Maruu asked.
Bortu said nothing.
"It's more than likely post-traumatic stress syndrome. Bortu is young, and Benzites tend to be more prone to post-traumatic stress than many other races. You may want to back off and come at it a little later. Besides,"
Dana said, "it's not going to bring Johnny back."
"Quite true, Doctor," the Captain answered, observing protocol while both he and his wife were on duty. "I'll have to address this later. Let me know if he decides to say anything. Ensign," he continued, addressing Bortu, "whatever happened out there, it's over with. You're safe now. Accidents happen; it is part and parcel with the risks of being in Starfleet. When you feel ready to talk, let the Doctor know, and we'll sort this out." He nodded to the two, then left Sickbay.
Then again, Bortu thought, there is another way...
"Doctor," he said, waiting until the Captain had left.
Dana turned. "Yes, Ensign, what can I do for you?" The next few minutes were critical.
"Am I covered by the physician-patient privilege?"
Why would he be asking that? "Yes, so long as you are not planning anything illegal. If that's the case then I'll have to inform the Captain and Security."
"Ma'am, I need to speak with Commanders Lataro and Benton. There's something I need to discuss with them, and I was ordered to take it solely to them."
"Of course." She tapped her com badge. "Sickbay to Lataro and Benton. There's someone here who needs to speak to you."
Then Dana put two and two together. Johnny's the only one who could have ordered him to keep quiet. But why not tell Stephen? What's going on here? If it were an illegal order then why would Bortu want to pass it on to two people who would most certainly cashier him for it? Or is this bigger than it looks?
She quieted her thoughts, temporarily, as Benton entered Sickbay. "I'll leave you two alone," she said.
"You had something you wanted to tell me, Ensign?" Benton asked.
Location: T'rais attack vessel
Johnny continued his movement down the corridor from bulkhead to bulkhead, making sure to check corners and stay hidden. A damage control team nearly spotted him, but he kept out of their way. If I start killing too many of them someone's going to notice.
Suddenly there were shouts from farther down the corridor. Someone had found the T'rais he'd stunned. Johnny began frantically looking for access panels or anything that might remotely resemble a Jeffries tube.
Too late. Two T'rais security types saw him and began firing. Johnny had barely a split-second to duck behind a support. He looked at his tricorder. Five more were coming down the corridor in the opposite direction. Nohatches, access panels, or other convenient places to hide were forthcoming. A grenade would be nice right about now, he thought. Overloading one of the phaser pistols would do the job just about as well, however...
He drew one of the phaser pistols and set its control circuitry into a feedback loop. At maximum power he'd have ten seconds to throw it. Johnny armed the phaser and threw it in the direction of the five advancing guards. He turned to fire at the two coming at him from the opposite direction.
The concussion from the exploding phaser smashed him against the bulkhead.
Location: Portanus V
Five minutes, five days, or five years later, Johnny woke up in a festering pit. He was naked but for a loincloth, his wrists bound with wrought-iron chains, and surrounded by dozens of bipeds somewhat shorter than himself with bluish skin and large, widely-separated eyes. Somewhere in his stunned mind he recognized them as natives of the Portanus system.
At first he could hear only gibberish noises, but gradually they resolved themselves into coherent speech. At least they left the Universal Translator intact. After listening for a few moments, Johnny determined that he was in a slave pen. Someone jabbing him with a pointed object, which Johnny quickly determined was a black powder rifle with a bayonet, sealed the deal.
"On your feet, foreigner! It's time to see how much your miserable hide is worth!"
A musket may not be the most terribly effective weapon, but it was much more terrible and effective than no weapon at all. Johnny got up and went where he was told.
He walked past a display the likes of which humanity, even at its worst moments, had not known in centuries. One individual had a sloughing skin disease horribly reminiscent of what Johnny had read about leprosy at the Academy.
Terrific. That only reminds me that my broad spectrum antibiotic was due for an update this week! Let's hope they've at least figured out penicillin and sulfa drugs, or my life here may be decidedly short and unhappy! But then again, I appear to be a slave, so they may not care.
Escape. I've got to escape somehow and figure out what to do next. Either that or hope I get an extremely progressive master, which somehow I doubt.
Johnny stood on an auction block, listening to the bids for the individual ahead of him. The individual looked to be an older male and was advertised as "an experienced, skilled laborer." The man fetched a price of five paregi, whatever those were.
Then Johnny took his place. The auctioneer began his pitch. "Item 24: an unknown foreigner, apparently male. Recently injured but otherwise in excellent physical condition! Should make an outstanding thrall or eunuch for your palace!"
Charming. I hadn't thought of that particular option! Johnny thought nervously.
The bidding began. After five minutes the bid was up to one-half paregi. Johnny never did find out how much his worth as a slave was, however.
A large Portanan male in attire finer than most of his fellows was examining a female with child farther down the line. A male just ahead of her started to protest, whereupon the large well-dressed man motioned to his attendants. They grabbed the child and one of them started to brandish a club.
Without thinking, Johnny rushed from the auction block. His long-legged, athletic stride was no match for the shorter Portanans. Two slave pen guards began pursuing him with bayonets at the ready, but it was too late. Johnny delivered an elbow strike to one of the attendants and had disarmed the other, choking him with the club that was about to be used on the child. The guards raised their muskets.
"Go ahead and shoot! I've got nothing to lose!" he yelled. The guards cocked their muskets.
"No! Don't shoot!" a voice from the crowd shouted. "I will pay twenty paregi for this slave!"
The guards lowered their muskets. A much older Portanan strode out from the crowd. "And you, Baron Kelto, should really try not to provoke these people," he said. Johnny looked at his presumptive master/benefactor. The man was very well-dressed, even better dressed than Kelto. Obviously some sort of nobleman, maybe even a king.
"I, Vinzi, Wizard of Flor, will pay 20 paregi for this foreigner and another five for this family of three," he said. "Does anyone contest my bid?"
No one spoke.
This guy's got some clout! Johnny thought.
The auctioneer broke the silence. "Sold: four slaves, Items 25 and 33 through 35, for the price of 25 paregi!"
"We've not even begun to finish, Wizard!" Baron Kelto growled.
"Don't start what you won't be able to finish," Vinzi answered, then walked on. He ordered the chains off Johnny and the others, then walked them over to a small desk where a clerk filled out some paperwork. Johnny watched the proceedings carefully. They're literate, or at least have a literate class. And those papers have the look of pre-printed forms which means they've got books somewhere that I need to start reading as soon as possible!
Vinzi opened up a small purse and emptied out 25 large gold coins.
So that's what paregi are! Not a bad price, but then again no one should be sold at any price, Johnny thought.
"How well can you speak our language, foreigner? Do you have a name?"
Chee, Johnny, Salt born for Bitter-Water. Major, Starfleet Marine Corps. 549526582. Under the Khitomer Accords I am not required to give you any further information. But Johnny resisted the urge to be uncooperative, not that any of the above would have meant anything to the Wizard of Flor, any more than the presumptive wizard would have had standing in Starfleet Academy's faculty. "My name is Johnny. I can speak your language fluently, but I cannot read or write it." The Universal Translator allowed him to speak and listen only; written language would have to be learned.
"You handle yourself well. I need such as you in my employ, as a bodyguard and master-at-arms."
"You would arm a slave?"
"I would never own a slave, my friend. That clerk just signed your manumission papers. And those of your companions. By our laws, once I have bought you I can do whatever I wish with you. You're now hired as my servants; you'll be paid and lodged in my estate but must have my written permission to venture beyond there, and may only wear the livery of my estate. If you wish to learn to read our language I will arrange to have someone teach you."
"That would be appreciated. May I ask how should I address you?"
"'Wizard' in public. I must confess that the lessons of the sextons have had their impact. I abhor slavery and the abuse of innocents. If my own budget could support it I would have bought all the slaves in that pen, then freed them. But altruism wasn't my only motive.
"Kelto is my sworn enemy; he and I are currently in a feud for control of Flor. I have the hearts of the people, but he has their fear. Anyone who could disarm and defeat two of his best men-at-arms with no weapons of his own is someone I could use!"
From slave to mercenary, Johnny thought. Even so, he didn't have to free these others, so this Wizard can't be too bad. Certainly better than ending up a eunuch!