A contest of principles, p.21
A Contest of Principles, page 21
“Adult, male, about your height, plus or minus a few centimeters. He had on a hooded jacket, obscuring his face, but I caught a glimpse of pale, pinkish skin. And, oh yes, he was clutching a bottle of spirits.”
Kirk didn’t recall seeing a bottle, empty or otherwise, in Huss’s apartment, not that he had been looking out for one. He would have preferred a more detailed description of the mystery caller, but he felt they were making progress nonetheless.
“Anyway, I barely had a chance to say hello before Pukk and his friend vanished into his apartment, leaving me alone in the corridor.” Zell tsked in disapproval. “They were quite brusque about it, really.”
“I don’t suppose you have any idea how long this guest stayed?” Kirk asked.
“Not long. An hour, maybe less.”
Kirk was struck by how confidently she replied. “Are you certain?”
“I may have just happened to be watching the hall through the door viewer when he left,” she said, only a wee bit defensively. “Call it a premonition, call it intuition, but something was not sitting right with me. I saw him slip out of the apartment not too long after he and Pukk went inside, still keeping his head down and looking, if anything, even more furtive than before. I didn’t need to scan his aura to know that he was hiding something. His guilty body language came across loud and clear.” She paused for dramatic effect. “And that night was the last time I ever saw my neighbor alive.”
Myp scowled. “And you didn’t think to report this to the authorities?”
“What can I say?” Zell said. “I mind my own business.”
Right, Kirk thought. He had to feel sorry for the nameless visitor, who was almost surely Huss’s killer. All that intrigue and manipulation and conspiracy, only to run afoul of a nosy neighbor. Kirk appreciated the irony even as he resolved to take full advantage of it.
“Is it possible our suspect’s face was caught by a security camera?” he asked.
“Don’t get your hopes up,” Myp said. “If this guest arrived with Huss, he wouldn’t have needed to check in at the security kiosk.”
“Huss?” Zell asked, confused.
“Your Mister Pukk went by another name,” Kirk explained. “Too bad there’s no video. We could use a good look at him.”
Zell chuckled. “You’re forgetting my eye, Captain. It sees all and records all. I just need to access the right file.”
* * *
The old poster of Madame Zell turned out to be an image on a circular viewscreen. Kirk and his colleagues waited, facing the screen, as Zell called up a video file from the day before. Her optical implant could only hold so much data in its memory, so she routinely uploaded her daily visual records to her apartment’s computer banks. Kirk understood that this was a common limitation of many cybernetic prosthetics even throughout the Federation; he’d known a crew member aboard the Farragut who’d needed to prune and download his memories on a regular basis.
“Here we go,” Zell said. “Fortunately, this was only yesterday, so I didn’t have to go rummaging through all my old files. I’m a bit of an optical hoarder, if you must know. My apologies for lack of audio, since I still have my original, flesh-and-blood ears. No depth perception either, I’m afraid.” She winked at Kirk. “Just the one ‘special’ eye, you know.”
Kirk briefly wondered how Zell had lost her original left eye, but that was neither here nor there at the moment. He watched intently as the playback replaced the old poster on the screen. A hooded figure could be seen exiting Huss’s apartment in what indeed could be described as a “furtive” manner. He glanced up and down the corridor as though worried about being seen. A gloved hand clutched an open bottle, which the figure was apparently intent on taking with him. Kirk made a mental note to have Huss’s remains tested for poison.
Zell wasn’t wrong, Kirk thought. Even with his face obscured, the man in the video gave off a distinctly guilty vibe. Not a professional killer, Kirk surmised; a more experienced assassin wouldn’t appear so conspicuously ill at ease. He’s not a natural at this.
The man in the video looked back at the door, possibly concerned that he’d left some incriminating evidence behind. He extracted a handkerchief from a pocket and nervously dabbed at his hidden face. The mannerism struck a chord in Kirk’s memory.
Hold on, he thought, leaning forward. Could it be—?
Twenty-Three
Ozalor
“Your Excellency, surely you can’t believe that I would conspire to have the Earth doctor killed?” Vumri acted shocked, shocked at the very suggestion. “I swear by my gifts that I knew nothing of this alleged plot.”
“In a pig’s eye,” McCoy said.
His blunt response lacked diplomacy, but he was too tired and cranky to watch his words. It was the morning after his near-fatal confrontation on the tower and he was dead on his feet. Between the bogus escape attempt, his close brush with death, and hours of emergency surgery on Jemo to save her life, McCoy felt like he’d been put through the wringer. He was badly in need of sleep, black coffee, a stiff drink, or possibly all of the above. What he didn’t need was a command appearance before Salokonos in the Yovode’s private sanctum, but when the planet’s supreme ruler demanded answers regarding last night’s turbulent events, McCoy could hardly say no, nor truly blame Salokonos for wanting to get to the bottom of the matter without delay.
At least he let me finish operating on Jemo first.
“Excuse me?” Vumri said in response to his remark.
“You heard me,” McCoy said. “I was there,” he reminded Salokonos, having already provided an honest account of what had transpired earlier, up to and including his deliberate attempt to escape the palace, which he hadn’t bothered trying to conceal for fear of insulting the sovereign’s intelligence. “That double-crossing sentry told me to my face that he and others wanted to get rid of me because they saw me as a threat to Vumri’s position in the palace.”
This time he did choose his words carefully, despite his grumpy disposition. He didn’t want to go so far as to imply that the healer already had too much influence over Salokonos, who might bristle at the suggestion that his authority and judgment had been compromised. Better to tread delicately around that nuance, even if diplomacy had never exactly been the doctor’s forte.
“Nonsense,” Vumri protested. “Sheer hearsay, nothing more.”
“I don’t know. Makes perfect sense to me.” McCoy glowered at the healer. “You really expect us to believe that you had no idea what was being done on your behalf? Or that you wouldn’t love to see my ‘alien’ brains splattered all over the landscape?”
“Your Excellency!” Vumri waxed indignant. “Am I to be slandered by a foreign prisoner who, by his own admission, killed one of your own guards while attempting to escape?”
“A guard who apparently betrayed my trust,” Salokonos said.
To McCoy’s relief, the Yovode seemed more concerned by the plot against McCoy’s life than by the doctor’s attempted escape. At least for the moment, that was.
“Still, I must ask you, Doctor,” the ruler continued, “what proof do you have of the Lossu’s involvement in the scheme? Did the sentry name her as the instigator of the plot?”
“Not in so many words,” McCoy admitted, “but it stands to reason. Who else benefits from getting rid of me?”
“You flatter yourself, Doctor,” Vumri said. “You pose no threat to me, nor offer any true help for the Yiyova as far as I can tell.”
The princess herself was not present at the conference, preferring to sit by Jemo’s bedside as her friend recovered from surgery. It was Avomora who had explained to McCoy that Jemo had shook off the sedative because her training as a bodyguard and food taster had involved deliberately building up a tolerance to ordinary drugs and toxins. Small wonder she’d recovered from the spiked coffee faster than any ordinary humanoid would.
“That remains to be seen,” McCoy said.
“In any event,” Salokonos said, “we cannot condemn Lossu Vumri simply on the basis of your suspicions, which are themselves based on the claims of a dead miscreant who cannot be interrogated. If the Lossu says she is blameless, we must take her at her word.”
You must maybe, McCoy fumed, but I sure as blazes don’t have to.
He was convinced that Vumri was up to her tattooed dome in the conspiracy, but he had to concede that he couldn’t prove it. He wondered, however, whether Salokonos’s decision to give Vumri the benefit of the doubt was based solely on the lack of hard evidence against her, or was there more to it than that? Was he also reluctant to take action against the healer because she remained his daughter’s only source of relief from her recurrent agonies?
All the more reason to find a cure for Avo’s condition.
“I’m honored by your faith in me.” Vumri bowed her head respectfully. “But what of the Earthman’s crimes? His heinous accusations may be mere figments of his imagination, but there is no question of his own guilt. He defied your will by attempting to flee the castle without your permission. He killed an Ozalorian.”
“In self-defense!” McCoy said. “And after he shot Jemo!”
She sneered at him. “So you say, at least.”
“What are you implying?” McCoy said. “That I shot Jemo and then worked till dawn to save her?” He turned toward Salokonos. “Examine Guhai’s weapon. Chances are, you’ll only find his fingerprints and DNA on it.”
Turned out Guhai was actually the sentry’s real name after all, despite what he had led McCoy to believe while pretending to help him escape. In reality, he hadn’t bothered with a fake name because he’d assumed that McCoy would be dead in a few minutes anyway.
“Our forensic investigators have already determined that the physical evidence supports your account of what happened on the tower, even if there is no way of knowing who, if anyone, the sentry might have been conspiring with.” Salokonos looked solemnly at McCoy. “You say he said he had accomplices, but can you say for certain that he was not working alone?”
“No,” McCoy confessed. “I never actually saw or heard anyone else.”
In retrospect, there had obviously been no coconspirators waiting for McCoy at the supposed rendezvous point since he was never intended to survive his flight for freedom.
“Guhai talked as though he wasn’t alone, but I’ll grant he wasn’t the most trustworthy of guys.”
“He was a liar and a traitor,” Salokonos said bluntly. “Yet I am confident, Doctor McCoy, that you are not a murderer.”
“I appreciate that, Your Excellency, sincerely.” He realized he should be grateful that he wasn’t being charged with homicide. “As a doctor, I regret taking any life.”
Salokonos nodded. “No doubt Jemo will also corroborate your story once she is well enough to be questioned.”
The bodyguard’s injuries were severe, but McCoy had every reason to believe that she would fully recover in time, possibly with some nifty new scars to show off. He doubted, however, that her job was all that secure after letting him get past her.
“Regardless,” Vumri persisted, “the Earthman still attempted to escape. Will he face no consequences for that perfidy?”
I’ll say this for Ozalorians, McCoy thought. They sure know how to hold a grudge.
Salokonos waved her righteous ire aside.
“McCoy was merely doing his duty as a Starfleet officer in attempting to return to his ship, unlike Guhai, who betrayed his duty to the throne. I cannot fault the doctor for attempting to escape, even if stronger measures are clearly required to keep him from doing so again.”
Uh-oh, McCoy thought. What does that mean?
Salokonos stroked his beard as he contemplated the captive doctor. “All of which raises the pressing issue of who is to guard you, in both capacities, now that Jemo can no longer do so.”
“I don’t suppose the honor system is an option?” McCoy drawled.
“This is no laughing matter, Doctor. New guards must be assigned to you.”
McCoy scowled. “With all due respect, Your Excellency, you’ll forgive me if I’m reluctant to trust my safety to some palace guards, given the example set by the late, unlamented Guhai.”
“I will personally select your guards this time and will vouch for their loyalty and devotion to their duty.” His gaze swept over the guards posted around the sanctum before making his selection. “Sergeant Halbo, I place you in charge of Doctor McCoy’s security and confinement. Corporal Mitoe, you will report to Halbo in this matter. Am I understood?”
The guards stepped forward. Granite expressions offered little hint of their personalities or dispositions, aside from the fact that they were probably not to be messed with. Everything about them shouted on-duty.
“Absolutely, Your Excellency,” Halbo said. “You may rely on us.”
“I would not have chosen you otherwise,” Salokonos said. “Rest assured, Doctor, these handpicked guards will watch over you as Jemo was meant to do.”
McCoy felt obliged to stick up for his former bodyguard, considering. “She did a damn good job of keeping me alive, even after I did my best to shake her.”
“True,” Salokonos acknowledged, “but do not expect that you will be able to elude my own guards so easily.”
You call that easy? McCoy thought, although obviously he was going to think twice before accepting any more unsolicited offers of assistance when it came to an unauthorized exit from the palace. He glumly inspected his rather forbidding new babysitters; he wasn’t entirely confident about this arrangement, but supposed it was the best he could expect under the circumstances. He could only hope that Salokonos was indeed a good judge of character where his personal guards were concerned and pray that Vumri hadn’t gotten to these two yet. Not for a moment did he think that the ambitious healer had given up on trying to eliminate him. Remind me to sleep with one eye open.
Whoever thought he’d end up missing Jemo watching his back?
“Your Excellency,” Vumri said, “must we continue with this dubious initiative? Look at the endless turmoil the Earth doctor’s presence at the court has already generated. Cannot he at least be confined somewhere far from the palace until, in your wisdom, you choose the best course of action regarding him?”
“The only ‘turmoil’ seems to be coming from your direction,” McCoy said. “It’s almost as though you don’t want me to find a cure for Avomora.”
“I care only for the Yiyova’s welfare,” she insisted.
McCoy snorted. “I’m sure.”
“How goes your work regarding my daughter’s affliction?” Salokonos inquired.
“Honestly? It’s proving more challenging than I anticipated. I thought I had the answer, but it appears her condition is more complicated and requires further study.”
“In short,” Vumri said, “you have achieved nothing.”
McCoy glared at her. “I wouldn’t say that. Medical science doesn’t always yield instant results. A certain amount of trial and error is part of the process, so even failures can bring you closer to a solution. I’m not giving up,” he promised. “I can tell you that.”
“Is that simply your pride speaking, Earthman?” Vumri said. “Perhaps you are merely unable to admit that—” A chime from her belt interrupted her and she retrieved a compact personal communication device from a small pouch. “If you will excuse me, Your Excellency, this appears to be urgent.” She consulted the device, then sighed heavily. “I regret to inform you, sire, that the Yiyova has taken ill and requires my attention.”
“Again?” Salokonos said, visibly chagrined. “So soon?”
“Her affliction is a cruel one, sire, and remains so despite any false hopes to the contrary.”
McCoy assumed that last bit was directed at him.
“If I may take my leave, Your Excellency?” she asked.
“Go,” he said. “Without delay.”
“As ever.” She bowed her head respectfully before swiftly exiting the chamber, leaving McCoy alone before the dismayed ruler, who looked understandably distressed by his daughter’s latest episode. His shoulders slumped, revealing the anguished father beneath the monarch.
“Is there nothing you can do for her, Doctor?” he asked. “Even with the Lossu’s help, Avomora’s spells are growing ever more frequent and severe. How do you explain this?”
“I’m not certain,” McCoy said. “I wish I could explain, but I’m still trying to figure it out.”
All the evidence pointed to a chemical imbalance in her brain, so it remained unclear why correcting that via his compound had not cured her. By rights, her condition should be improving, not deteriorating. And even if his cure was ineffective, why were her episodes coming more and more often? It was possible, he supposed, that she was building up an immunity to whatever Vumri did for her, so that the healings were growing less effective, resulting in shorter periods of recovery and harsher relapses, or could it be that Avo had grown so dependent on Vumri’s gifts that… ?
A theory suddenly beamed into his brain as though from orbit.
Could that be it? The reason she’s getting worse, not better?
Excitement dispelled the fatigue weighing him down.
“Your Excellency, with your permission, I’d like to observe Lossu Vumri as she heals your daughter again. It may help me understand what is happening to her.”
“Very well,” Salokonos said, “if you truly think it will aid you in your quest.”
“I do, Your Excellency.”
“Then I will not keep you from your work.” Salokonos looked to McCoy’s newly appointed guards. “Escort the doctor to my daughter’s chambers. See that no harm comes to him—and that he goes nowhere on his own.”
“Yes, sire,” Halbo said. “We will not let him out of our sight.”
“Come on, then,” McCoy said impatiently, already halfway to the door. “I haven’t got all day.”
Twenty-Four
Vok
