The Trickster's Box, Part 5 (Patreon)

Captain Lee barely slept the entire night. The screen in her room continuously harassed her with nonsense sounds and images. She tried to fall asleep to the children's puppet show, which had claimed, rather dubiously, to be sponsored by various letters of the alphabet, but it proved beyond her. Knowing that it was probably futile, she attempted again to change the program. She had sat up cycling through one inane piece of esoteric entertainment after another. Strangely, children's programming and Klingon philosophical debate came up a lot more often than chance would allow. She would finally find something reasonably quiet and return to her bed, only to be disturbed minutes later by a sudden action scene or a dramatic musical sting. If she hadn't known better, she might have suspected that the computer was deliberately preventing her from sleeping.

When six hundred-thirty hours rolled around, she decided that was close enough to count as early rising. She used the sonic shower, laundered her uniform, and got herself presentable. It was essential to the proper functioning of the ship that the captain set a good example, presenting the very image of decorum. This was a lot easier when the captain had a chance to sleep first.

She left her quarters and headed for the bridge. Normally, she wouldn't dream of sleeping in her ready-room, but today that felt like an attractive option. She felt awful.

“Captain on the Bridge.” announced Lieutenant Kushnir, commander of the night shift, as she entered.

“I'll be in my waiting room.” said Captain Lee, in a voice that she hoped sounded more authoritative than irritable. She liked Kushnir, in a way, but she found the woman a bit too opinionated and assertive at times. Those where decent qualities in a leader, but endlessly frustrating in a subordinate. Commanding the night shift was a good way of developing the younger woman's budding leadership skills, but it seemed that she never quite got over the fact that she wasn't the captain.

“Captain, if I may...” began the Lieutenant.

“You may not.” said Captain Lee as the doors opened.

“It is somewhat urgent!” called Kushnir, as the doors closed behind the Captain.

Ara stood in her empty waiting room. After the night she had had, the simple office chair may as well have been a hammock. She so badly wanted the hour of peace and quiet that was she was still technically obligated to.

She took a deep breath. She counted to ten.

She turned around and opened the doors. “Yes, Lieutenant?”

“I want some explanation of the course corrections you ordered, Ma'am.” said Kushnir, deliberately ignoring her commanding officer's obvious fatigue.

“What course corrections?” asked Captain Lee.

“The one's you ordered about two hours ago, Ma'am.” said Kushnir.

Ara narrowed her eyes. “I was in bed two hours ago. I haven't ordered any change in heading.”

Kushnir narrowed hers as well. “Pardon me, Ma'am, but you definitely did. You ordered us to leave the search pattern you established when we first entered the nebula and draw a straight course through the nebula, retracing some of our progress. Are you saying you never ordered that?”

“That is exactly what I'm saying.” said Captain Lee. “Are you saying we've been going the wrong way for two hours?”

Kushnir frowned. “That doesn't seem possible. We all heard you give the order.”

Ara looked around. The group of ensigns who composed the night shift all nodded agreement.

Captain Lee suddenly felt a lot more awake. Something was definitely wrong here. Kushnir's eyes shifted from anger to concern.

“Did I give these orders...in person?” She asked.

“No, Ma'am. You used the ship's intercom.” reported Kushnir, her frown deepening.

Captain Lee glanced up at the ceiling. “Computer! Replay most recent communique from Captain Lee to Bridge.”

The Computer chimed and the conversation began replaying over the intercom. The voice on the recording did sound exactly like Captain Lee.

“Captain to the Bridge.”

“This is Lieutenant Kushnir. What can I do for you Captain?”

“There has been a change of plans. I need you to adjust our heading to 168.35 mark 003.97.”

“...Captain, that heading would take us back through an area we have previously surveyed. It would be much more efficie...”

“You have your orders, Lieutenanteautenant. Lee Out.”

Captain Lee listened to the recording with growing suspicion. That had been a faithful representation of her voice, down to the specific cadences she favored. That could not be a simple computer error. It was something much more serious.

“Lieutenant, I did not send that message.”

The air on the bridge felt suddenly cold. The suspicion that had been silently circulating was confirmed. This was bad...

“Yes, Ma'am. What are your orders?” asked Kushnir.

“All stop. Wherever we're going, we don't want to go there.”

The helmswoman, Ensign Mayen, immediately tapped the large “All Stop” button, made to be impossible to miss for obvious reasons.

She tapped it again.

And again.

She quickly entered the command into the navigational controls directly. The heading did not change.

“Captain, helm controls are not responding!” she reported. Her feeling of vague dread was now blossoming into panic.

“Try a different heading!” ordered Kushnir, forgetting, in her alarm, that she was not presently in command.

Mayen did. “No effect!”

The Captain decided  she had had enough. “Computer! Emergency stop! Authorization: Lee, Epsilon, six, one, five, nine!”

An error chime sounded. “Unable to comply. Unable to...to to to commmmmm...

The ship shook. Captain Lee smiled and took her seat at the center of the bridge. The authorization codes were hardwired into the ship's systems, so that mere reprogramming would not be enough to countermand them. Whatever had seized control, it did not control everything. The night shift watched as the swirling lavender clouds that they had been plowing through all week steadily stopped whipping past.

“Take us to yellow alert.” ordered Captain Lee. She tapped her com-badge as the lights dimmed and the rhythmic buzz of the alarm began. “Captain Lee to all hands. Emergency Situation! The Ishigaki's computer has been subverted by an unknown alien influence. Remain calm. The extent of the interference is unknown. All senior officers, report to the bridge. Remain at your posts and report any suspicious activity. Lee out.”

She tapped her com-badge again to end the transmission. She hoped that her message had actually reached the crew. In theory, the com-badges should be able to transmit to one another directly without any help from the ship's computer, so interfering with them would be difficult. Still, if the object sitting in the ship's lab was able to block helm control, who knew what else it could do?

The computer chirped. “Lieutenant Tamar is in her quarters.”

The computer spoke as though it had been asked a question, but no one had asked one. Captain Lee frowned. Tamar was supposed to be about to report for her duty shift. Why was the computer mentioning her?

“Computer: Explain. What about Lieutenant Tamar?”

“Lieutenant Tamar is in her quarters.” repeated the computer.

Captain Lee tapped her com-badge. “Lee to Tamar. Come in.” There was silence.

Kushnir narrowed her eyes. “Whatever is doing this, I think that was an implied threat. Tamar may be in danger.”

“I agree.” said the Captain.

“It sounds like a trap.” said Kushnir.

“It certainly does.” agreed Captain Lee.

“I think it would be best if I investigate Tamar's quarters.” said Kushnir.

“That is where our opinions differ.” said Captain Lee, standing.

“Captain! It is foolish to risk you on a...” she began.

“Nevertheless I am going.” interrupted the Captain. “It's probably a trap, but Tamar's safety is my responsibility. You have the bridge. Remember, whoever we're dealing with here has demonstrated control over the main computer and the ability to falsify transmissions. Do not accept any orders unless I am standing in front of you giving them. I have to get to the bottom of this. This is a first contact, and if the other party wants to talk, I will hear them out. Keep this ship exactly where it is. Understood?”

Kushnir took a deep breath. “Aye, Captain.”

Captain Lee did not leave the bridge directly. Instead, she headed into her ready room. She pulled her comfortable chair out from behind her desk, lifted a strategically-placed carpet out of the way, and entered a six-digit code into a small hidden panel on the floor. This caused a small section of the floor to lift up and slide aside, revealing Captain Lee's secret armory. It had seemed rather silly and excessive when she had first installed it, considering how tame her vessel's missions were reasonably expected to be. Now, she wasn't convinced that she had been overprepared enough .From the depths she pulled a heavy belt, on which were festooned two phaser pistols in holsters, a small site-to-site-transporter, a medium-yield EMP projector (not strictly legal, but extremely handy), a dermal regenerator, and a tricorder. Whatever she was up against, she wanted every advantage she could get her hands on to face it.

“Are you sure you don't want back-up?” asked Kushnir as the Captain crossed the bridge.

“I would have ordered some if I did.” said the captain curtly. In truth, a single person had a better chance of spotting danger and withdrawing without suffering casualties. She would have much more tactical flexibility alone. Besides, she had no actual security staff to speak of. She was the one most qualified for this kind of work.

Tamar's quarters were on deck three, along with most of the crew. Getting off the turbo-lift, Ara walked cautiously along the main corridor that looped through residence deck. She noted that the yellow alert she had ordered was not sounding down here. She also noted that not a single crewmember was anywhere to be seen. Typically, under yellow alert, everyone should have reported to their stations elsewhere on the ship, but to have no one at all in the residence deck halls with no alert sounding, was downright creepy. She checked the recreation room, and found it deserted. Where was everyone?

She reached Tamar's quarters. She pressed the button beside the door.

“Tamar? Are you in there?” she asked.

There was a long pause. “Yes, Captain.”

“What's happening? Are you alright?” she asked.

Another pause. “No, Captain. I am not.” Her voice sounded strained.

Captain Lee inhaled sharply. She knew the extent of Tamar's intense mental training and discipline. To make her sound strained, she would have to be under enormous stress.

“What is your situation? May I come in?” asked Ara.

“Please do not. My situation...is complicated.”

“I need more than that, Lieutenant. The ship has been invaded; compromised in some way. I think that alien artifact is responsible. I need all the information I can get right now. Please.”

Another pause. “I have...also been compromised, Captain. I do not believe you understand the extent of our situation.”

Captain Lee had had enough. “Lieutenant, I am coming in. I am sorry if that is a problem for you.”

She opened her mouth to order an emergency override, but the door slid open before she could.

“It was inevitable.” said Tamar.

Ara entered. The room was brightly lit, more so than was common for a Vulcan. A screen was active, showing a now-familiar Klingon philosophical debate. The room stank. Tamar sat on the floor in the center of the room. Her face was streaked with sweat, and her eyes were tired.

“I beg you, Captain. Do not laugh.” she said, taking a doughnut hole from a nearby paper bucket and popping it into her mouth.

Captain Lee gasped and covered her mouth as she saw her friend's state. The room was a mess. There were empty bowls, cups, and bags strewn haphazardly around the floor. Tamar was wearing nothing but a stained tank-top tee shirt and a thick, white, adult diaper. The shirt read “Big, Fat Crybaby”, and showed an image of a weeping cartoon cupcake. Ara realized, to her horror, that Tamar had been crying. She realized that the things she had taken for bags were actually wadded up disposable diapers, left randomly around the floor. Tamar closed her eyes and shook, seeming to struggle with herself. Then she reached out, and took another pastry from the bucket.

“What happened? How?” she whispered.

Tamar chewed and swallowed, and Ara realized why she had paused so often before.“I have been compromised, Captain.” stated Tamar. Her voice was more level now, but fresh tears appeared in her eyes. “I cannot control my actions. I cannot stand, or clean my quarters, or leave, or do anything unless they permit it. I am...helpless.”

Ara stared in disbelief. “Why? Why do this?”

Tamar pointed to the screen behind her. “I believe this...presentation is an attempt by our captors to explain our situation to us. Are you at all familiar with the Tuhmoh Qew?

Captain Ara had heard that phrase before, but had not seen it as important at the time. “Shame-Bringer?”

“Yes. I learned of them when studying Klingon History at the Vulcan Science Academy. They were an ideological sect of the Klingon Empire that existed approximately five hundred years ago.” She took another doughnut hole and quickly ate it. “...if it is helpful, you can think of them as being the Klingon's equivalent of Satanists. They deliberately took the traditional concepts of Klingon Honor and inverted them. The name “Shame-Bringer” was originally attached to them as an abusive epithet, but they adopted it as their official name. They developed a unique philosophical system, quite contrary to standard Klingon precepts. They believed that defeating one's opponents through force ennobled them, and was thus to be avoided. Open battle offered the enemy the opportunity for heroic struggle and death. Likewise, enslaving one's enemies through bondage or pain granted them the opportunity for noble suffering, which would always eventually strengthen them, and thus invite rebellion. In essence, the Tumoh Qew considered Klingon culture to be too kind. They were a group of ruthless sociopaths.”

Captain Ara was struggling to understand what Tamar was trying to convey. “And you think they created the artifact we found?”

“When this group attempted to seize power on the Klingon homeworld, they were defeated and all but exterminated. Only a few of their number escaped beyond borders of the empire. They were led by scientists and engineers, as well as a substantial following of sexual deviants. They preferred to operate by deceit and technological superiority, rather than by force. They prided themselves on their ability to outwit their opponents. Leaving a trap for us to pick up, which would then invade and subvert our systems, including our very bodies. All of this is consistent with their philosophy, and they have deliberately called attention to themselves by displaying their early philosophical debates with the Klingon conservatives of the period.”

Ara squinted. “But why do this? Why the...the diapers? The pastries? It doesn't seem Klingon at all.”

“Remember that they were Klingon in species, Captain, but not in culture. They believed that every society, regardless of its history or its values, had a concept of honor. A way of behaving consistent with that culture's ethos, which would then confer status upon individuals. Likewise, each culture has a set of ways for an individual to lose status. Shame. Humiliation. I believe this artifact we have found is evidence that this sect survived, and continued to develop their technology in the centuries that followed. I believe that it searched our cultural database, and determined from them what stimuli would be most effective in humiliating us. Both Humans and Vulcans find helplessness distasteful. In addition, most cultures attach considerable shame to the act of clinging to the trappings of infantile and juvenile life phases after one has outgrown them. For a Vulcan, the primary cultural values are self-control, organization, and efficiency. I have been subjected to a series of compulsions intended to systematically undermine those values. To be compelled to soil myself, to sit surrounded by my own refuse, to weep openly, to indulge in excessive food...it is...more difficult than I expected. Nothing in my training could have prepared me for such an experience, Captain. Even physical torture would be preferable.”

“How are you being compelled to do this? How are they controlling you?” asked the captain.

“I suspect that some kind of device was installed in my body while I was being treated in sickbay. They have control of our medical hologram, as well as our replicators and most likely other systems as well. It seems that their device is capable of blocking or stimulating my nerve impulses. Hunger, sexual stimulation, and...pleasure, are fully under external control. My mind is still my own, but as you can see, my emotions...I am sorry.”

“You have been very brave, Tamar. I am proud of you. Nothing can change that.” said Captain Lee.

“Thank you, Captain. I have great respect for you, as well. That is why, I suspect, you were allowed to enter here and see me in this shameful condition. Now, please leave me. You cannot help me, and you are needed outside. Now that you understand our situation, it may still be possible to reclaim control of the ship.”

“I will not leave without you.” said Captain Lee, automatically.

“A predictable response, Captain, and a foolish one. I am at the mercy of our captors, whether here or somewhere else. I will be a burden to you, and that would be a greater shame even than this.”

“I realize that you don't want to be seen in this state. Too bad. You are still my best engineer, and this is, at bottom, a technical problem. We are leaving together.”

Captain Lee crossed the room and grabbed Tamar, hefting her limp body over one shoulder.

“Captain, be cautious. I do not know what they can make me do.” said Tamar. She neither helped nor hindered as Ara carried her toward the door like a sack of laundry.

The sound of a long, wet fart erupted from Tamar's diaper. Tamar winced in shame as she was forced to once again empty her bowels into the infantile garment.

“Oh...oh Tamar...” said Captain Lee, grabbing her nose.

Tamar's voice quavered. “Please, Captain. Just leave me. I cannot bear this, as much as I wish I could.”

“Not an option, Lieutenant. Can you...take care of that? Before we leave?” asked Ara, setting Tamar down on the floor. Her diaper squelched as she landed.

“I have been able to do so several times, and I will attempt to do so again.” said Tamar. She reached for the large tapes that held the diaper secure, but her fingers refused to grasp them.

“It is as I suspected, Captain.” said Tamar ruefully.

“What? Why are they stopping you?” asked the Captain.

“Their objective to humiliate me. Why allow me to change myself when a more embarrassing option is available?” said Tamar, an edge of anger creeping into her tone.

Ara sighed. “Alright, let's just do this and be done with it. We will not discuss it again.”

Tamar closed her eyes and bared her teeth in frustration. Then, she forced herself once again to be calm. “I appreciate that, Captain.”

Captain Lee approached the replicator. “Computer. Another of your damn diapers.”

“Specified item is not available.” stated the Computer.

“What's the problem now!” snarled Captain Lee.

Tamar took a deep breath, which was especially unpleasant given the smell that was gradually filling her quarters. “During the night, the computer became increasingly particular about the language it is willing to accept. Again, the goal is to embarrass us.” she raised her voice. “Computer: My new uniform, please.”

“Access Denied. User is not cleared to access ship functions.” stated the computer.

“Huh. Usually you only get that message when an unknown alien is aboard.” said Captain Lee.

“It would appear that now that you are here, the computer is no longer accepting my commands at all.” said Tamar.

“It didn't work for me either.” said Captain Lee.

Tamar breathed heavily, trying to steady herself. “Because your command was stated in a way that our captors did not appreciate. Using technology to compel us into humiliating situations is only part of their plan. They also desire that we capitulate to them by humiliating ourselves, voluntarily. I have been forced to do so several times already.”

Ara sucked her teeth in exasperation. This was not what she needed after such a lousy night's sleep. “Tamar, I recognize that this is a horrible situation, but please just be direct with me. Tell me what I have to say to get this demented program to make another of those diapers.”

There was a pause.

“That was an order, Lieutenant.”

“Say: The big crybaby needs a diaper change.” said Tamar slowly.

Captain Lee winced. “I'm sorry, Lieutenant.”

“I am aware of that Captain, but saying it will not improve our situation.” said Tamar.

Captain Lee's voice dripped with angry sarcasm as she addressed the computer“Computer. The big crybaby needs a diaper change.”

“Please specify.” responded the computer.

“Oh, you prick.” muttered Ara angrily. “Fine! Computer! Big Crybaby Tamar made a Boom-Boom in her pants. Pretty please give us a fresh diaper for her.”

The computer chirped, and objects began to materialize on the replicator pad. A stack of several diapers formed, even thicker than the ones Tamar already wore. They each had the image of a halo and wings on the front panel and the words “Mommy's Little Angel” written across the waistband. In addition, a bottle of baby powder, a package of wipes, a changing mat, and handy satchel to carry it all. Captain Lee picked up and examined the satchel. The words “Big Crybaby Tamar's Diapers” were printed in large letters on both sides. Captain Lee threw it over her shoulder and loaded the objects into it.

“Captain! I beg of you...” began Tamar, but Ara cut her off.

“Tamar, you are a Vulcan. Logic dictates that you accept that which you cannot change. This is the only reasonable option we have. I'm sorry, but we have to do this.”

Tears rolled down Tamar's cheeks. “...yes, Captain.”

Tamar lay back and looked away as Captain Lee worked. It had been a long time since she had last changed a diaper, but she recalled enough to get by. What surprised her was Tamar's reaction as she broke open the tapes and began wiping away the filth from her Chief Engineer's bottom. Tamar's face flushed. Her breathing became excited and irregular. She sighed and gasped as her captain carefully cleaned her private parts.

“Tamar! Are you...enjoying this?” asked Captain Lee in disbelief.

“That is...Ooooh...another defining characteristic of Shame-Bringer...ooooaaaahh...philosophy, Captain! They make you...ha ha ooh...enjoy...being degraded.”

As Tamar spoke, her body quivered. Her breathing became increasingly uneven as Captain Lee slid the fresh diaper under her. As the final tapes were pulled into place, she moaned with ecstasy. Captain Lee ignored her, but privately wondered how many of her former partners had given her what a fresh diaper had just given Tamar.

Tamar lay recovering in bliss as Captain Lee furiously washed her hands. “Are you ready to move?” she asked.

Tamar attempted to stand up, but her legs refused to cooperate. “The program is not allowing me to walk, Captain. I'm afraid that if you are determined to take me with you, you must carry me.

With a grunt, Ara lifted Tamar into a fireman's carry and headed for the door.

Ara felt a painful shock and fell backward. A force-field was blocking their path out of the room.

“It appears they have control of the internal force-field generators” said Tamar.

“I hadn't noticed.” muttered the captain as she got to her feet. She pulled out a phaser, adjusted the setting, and fired into the force field, illuminating the wall of sparks and glowing lights.

“A phaser will not be sufficient to...” Tamar began, but Ara pulled out her EMP projector and fired that into the field as well. The sparks intensified for a moment, then suddenly cut out. The phaser beam cut through and struck the wall near the door, destroying the field generator.

“That device is used by boarding parties of the Orion Syndicate.” observed Tamar as Captain Lee picked her up again. “How did you acquire it?”

“I purchased it. On Orion.” stated Captain Lee. It was a confession, but also a brag.

They emerged into the corridor.

“Oh my god! Captain! What happened!” said crewman Dunmore, who was just passing by in the corridor.

“The ship has been taken over by hostile forces.” said Tamar, trying to be concise.

“What are you wearing? Is that a...” began Dunmore, but the captain cut her off.

“Don't ask. That's an order. Where are you going?”

“Reporting to sickbay.” said Dunmore, as this should have been obvious.

“Are you unwell?” asked the captain.

“No. You ordered me to report to sickbay.”

Captain Lee groaned.

“D-didn't you?” said Dunmore, looking frightened.

“They are sending false orders over the intercom, imitating my voice.” explained the captain.

“We need to get to sickbay. They are no doubt working to install more of the crew with control devices.” said Tamar, still draped over the captain's shoulder.

“Dunmore, you're with me. Here.” said Captain Lee, passing Dunmore a phaser.”

“Captain, I'm not certified for...” began Dunmore.

“Not a suggestion, crewman. Where are the rest of the crew?” asked Captain Lee.

“I don't know ma'am.” said Dunmore, taking the phaser nervously. “When I woke up, I received an order to stay in my quarters and await further orders. I didn't know what was happening.”

Ara groaned inwardly. Most of the time, the fact that Starfleet personnel were rigorously trained to follow their superior's orders without question was an asset, but there were times when she wished a few lessons on the value of independent thought were thrown in the mix.

“Alright, regaining control of sickbay has to be our priority. Once we're certain that no more of those devices can be implanted, we'll work on getting the crew up to speed and destroying that artifact.”