Saving Mar

01 DISTRESS

"You shouldn't have bothered. We've got everything under control."

Captain Archer recoiled in astonishment, not expecting to hear such words, and cast their speaker a bewildered glance.

A few days ago on another planet, they met a man who nearly begged them on his knees to find his sister. She'd supposedly been taken along with other women by slavers from Surcia, and the Captain was way too soft-hearted to refuse that kind of request. He promised to keep an eye out as they continued to explore strange new worlds.

Now that they finally got lucky enough to find the slaver ship, they boarded it to mount a rescue mission only to find its allegedly unwilling passengers walking along the corridors with phase pistols under their belts. Meanwhile, their former captors were roaring and howling locked up in their own brig, their curses almost blackening the surrounding bulkheads.

Jon felt kind of silly, all worked up with a pistol drawn, when they met no resistance. The women stared at him and his crew quite indifferently. It turned out the captives were no damsels in distress and didn't need their help. Faced with their cold determination, he would not dare to comment on their provocative garments.

"Who's in charge here?" he chose a neutral question in an effort to not show what was on his mind. One or two of the women were eyeing him threateningly, as if daring him to show surprise at their capability.

"I am," said the woman, who first addressed him. Her delicate white-lace robe and gentle features did not match her sharp tone. Jonathan attempted an inoffensive smile.

"And your name, Miss...?"

She gave him a hard look.

"Tamara. Duchess Siroch of Pharos. I'm no Miss."

"I'm sorry," said the Captain automatically. "I didn't mean any offense, Duchess."

That visibly bewildered her. Jon quickly re-evaluated the situation; should he have bowed or something?

She did not seem upset or angered, though. Her forehead smoothed out, her gaze softened and she bent backward a little, toning down on the hostility. Maybe he'd done something right by her.

"I'm not offended," she said simply. "You can call me Mar."

"Alright...," Jon shifted uncomfortably, trying to regain his footing in this conversation. "So, Duchess Mar, would you be so kind as to tell me what the hell happened here? We were told you'd been abducted."

"You were clearly misinformed, Captain Archer," Mar said firmly, but with much less sharpness in her voice.

Jon chewed on the inside of his cheek for a second, carefully considering his next words. "Our intel might've been misleading," he conceded. "We're specifically looking for a woman named Sevon; do you know her? Her brother is worried sick."

Without a word, Mar pointed at one of the women. This one was wearing sky-blue satin that revealed most of her abundant wiles. Her sure stance and the way she casually held her rifle, however, would quickly dissuade anyone from objectifying her. She sent a dry nod his way.

"I think you've got the wrong idea about us, Captain," Mar said. "My women don't roam the galaxy in these degrading outfits to provide all kinds of humiliating services to men of questionable integrity. We're hunters. This image is bait we catch sleazebags with."

Jon blinked. The team exchanged pregnant looks.

Malcolm's eyebrows were so high up his forehead they almost got lost in his hairline, while Hoshi grinned amusedly, as if she was the only one of them who actually got the joke.

The Duchess cast her a small smile.

"Aside from sending a message, it makes for a good living, too," she explained. "When we sell the slavers and their ships, we usually earn enough for a few months of humble life for the whole crew."

"And the slavers or their colleagues don't feel like getting some payback?" Jon wondered softly, hoping they would hear the genuine concern in his voice.

A woman beside Sevon spoke up this time.

"They tried a few times," she smirked. Her clothing consisted mostly of peach-pink chiffon and her voice was heavy with dark satisfaction. "Eventually, they've come to the conclusion that they're better off leaving us alone."

"So you run something like an anti-slavery... gang?" broached Malcolm. He seemed fascinated, which did not really surprise Jon.

"They call us many things," shrugged Mar. She drew a deep breath. "Did you want anything else, Captain? We'd like to get back underway."

He shook his head. "Of course. It's clear you don't need our help, so we'll return to our ship. It was a pleasure to meet you."

He smiled at them all and turned to leave.

Someone had other plans for them. Just as they were about to board their shuttle, the slaver ship shook violently. The Duchess barked into her com-link for an update; they were under attack.