A contest of principles, p.23
A Contest of Principles, page 23
“Vulcans have strong stomachs,” he replied. “We are not easily nauseated by hypothetical dismemberment.”
“I almost envy you,” she said. “I could use a little of that unflappable Vulcan stoicism right now.”
“You appear to be bearing up in a most exemplary manner, Nurse Chapel.”
“Thank you, Mister Spock. That means a lot coming from you.”
He glanced upward. F’lun was not immediately visible, but Spock could hear the jailer pacing impatiently above them, along with at least one other confederate. Their presence inhibited his conversation with Chapel; because he and the nurse could not count on not being overheard, they were unable to freely discuss the possibility of being rescued by their fellow Starfleet personnel, forcing Spock to approach the topic obliquely.
“You are out of uniform, Miss Chapel.”
“It’s being cleaned,” she said. “Nursing can get messy, you know.”
“And your medkit?” he asked casually, feigning mere curiosity. “You do not appear to have it on your person.”
The significance of his question was surely not lost on her. As long as the hidden transponder remained undetected, the greater the odds that their comrades would be able to locate them, even deep beneath the glassy sea.
“My minder is holding it for me.” She pointed upward. “Think they’re afraid I’ll slip you a laser scalpel or something.”
Spock was reassured to hear that the concealed transponder was still in their proximity.
“A pity.” He stroked his chin, which was rather bristlier than he preferred. “I could use a shave.”
Chapel smiled. “You might look good with a beard.”
“I experimented with one in my youth,” he confessed. “It was not universally well received.”
“Now you’ve got me curious,” she joked. “Seriously, though, I feel terrible about you being locked up in solitary confinement all this time.”
“Unlike humans, I do not fear solitude,” he said. “Nor, for that matter, am I truly alone.”
He indicated Troxy, who scuttled over to be petted.
“I see,” Chapel said. “Good to see your new friend is keeping you company.”
An opportunity presented itself to Spock.
“Perhaps we can prevail upon our captors to let me borrow your medical scanner for a few moments. I have a theory about these creatures that I am eager to verify.”
Chapel looked intrigued. “What sort of theory?”
Before he could explain, a high-pitched whine came from above, followed almost immediately by the sound of weapons fire. A pair of bodies thumped loudly onto the paved concrete floor above. Troxy issued a puzzled chirp. Chapel looked to Spock in excitement.
“Mister Spock! Do you think—?”
Her hopes were quickly confirmed by the appearance of Lieutenant Levine, peering down through the grate. “Spock, Christine, good to see you!”
“You have no idea.” Chapel sprang off the stool. “Talk about a sight for sore eyes.”
“It is indeed gratifying to be found, Lieutenant,” Spock said. “I believe you will find an extendable ladder near you.”
“Sit tight,” Levine said. “We’ll get you right out of there.”
A crimson phaser beam dissolved the metal grate. Moments later, the ladder expanded to reach the bottom of the Pit. Spock chivalrously gestured at the ladder.
“After you, Nurse.”
“Don’t mind if I do.”
She scrambled nimbly up the ladder. He followed her up to the floor above the Pit, where they found a four-person rescue team consisting of Lieutenants Levine, Godwin, Nguyen, and Yoder. F’lun and his associate lay stunned upon the floor. Nguyen and Yoder had already staked out defensive positions at the only entrance to the small grotto, where a solitary tunnel connected the jail to the rest of the cave system. Not wanting to be left behind, Troxy hurried up the ladder after Spock, eliciting a bemused look from Godwin.
“What or who is that?” she asked.
“A harmless local life-form of notable scientific interest,” Spock stated. “You tracked the transponder in the medkit, I assume?”
“Got it in one, Mister Spock.” Levine provided a fresh communicator and phaser to Spock, while Godwin returned the medkit to Chapel. “Where is Doctor McCoy?”
“The UBF doesn’t have him,” Chapel said. “They never did.”
“Damn,” Godwin said. “That’s a letdown.”
“Succinctly put,” Spock agreed.
“No point in sticking around, then,” Levine said. “The sooner we beam out, the better.” He flipped open his communicator. “Rescue team to Bureau HQ. Six to beam—”
A piercing siren interrupted him. A steel door slammed into place, sealing the entrance. Troxy vocalized loudly in triplicate.
“I believe a rapid extraction is in order,” Spock said.
“I can’t get through!” Levine said. Static emanated from his communicator. “They’re jamming us!”
The shrill alarm pained Spock’s ears, so it came as no small relief when the siren was cut abruptly, replaced by the amplified voice of Hynn V’sta:
“Having troubles, gentlemen, ladies?”
Spock gathered they were being monitored. “I take it you are responsible?”
“Naturally,” she replied over a concealed public-address system. “Did you truly think we wouldn’t detect your people beaming in… or phasers discharging in a secure area? We may have stuck you in a convenient hole for economy’s sake, but that doesn’t mean we’re actually in the Stone Age or that we aren’t prepared for any eventuality, up to and including an attempted jailbreak. We’ve raised the base’s deflector screens. Nobody is beaming in or out anytime soon.”
“Great,” Godwin said sarcastically. “We’re screwed.”
“Looks like we’re going to have to fight our way out,” Levine said. “Yoder, Nguyen, open fire on that door. Phasers on full.”
“Don’t waste your batteries,” V’sta said. “You’re not going to be upright long enough to disintegrate that barrier.”
Thick white fumes jetted into the sealed cavern through cracks in the ceiling. Spock targeted the vents with his newly acquired phaser, trying to disable them, but the gas spread too fast and too potently, filling the grotto. Troxy succumbed to the fumes first, collapsing onto the floor, while the bipeds struggled to stay on their feet, coughing and covering their mouths with their hands in a doomed attempt to avoid inhaling the gas, which Spock immediately identified as a highly concentrated variant of anesthezine. Levine tottered unsteadily near the lip of the Pit and Spock grabbed his arm to keep the young security officer from toppling over the edge.
“Keep clear of the Pit,” Spock shouted over the hissing of the jets. “Don’t fall in.”
The effort forced him to inhale even more of the gas. Dizziness assailed him and his legs grew more unreliable. His inner eyelids drooped as he fought a losing battle to remain conscious. One by one, the rescue team passed out. Through the choking white fog, Spock registered them falling to the ground until he was the last person standing. He turned the full force of his phaser on the door, hoping to bore a hole in it through which the fumes could escape, but the solid steel barrier was just as dense as one would logically expect a prison gate to be. He attempted to concentrate the beam on one small spot even as his arm grew subjectively heavier and heavier, making it ever more difficult to maintain his aim. The beam drifted and wavered despite his best efforts. His thoughts grew muddy, his vision blurrier.
“I admire your persistence, Mister Spock,” V’sta’s voice taunted him, “although I question your logic in not surrendering to the inevitable.”
“You need not add insult to injury,” Spock replied, coughing as he did so. “My compliments on your prison facilities, however. They are clearly more sophisticated—and effective—than they first appear.”
“Why, thank you,” she replied. “You’re too kind.”
He kept on firing at the door for as long as he could, yet calculated that he was losing his race with time. A tiny spot on the door began to glow red.
Just as his world turned black.
Twenty-Six
Vok
The presidential debate, scheduled long in advance, took place in the very amphitheater where the staged assassination attempt had taken place, amplifying the charged atmosphere onstage and in the audience. Partisans on both sides packed the tiered seats of the ancient crater, each in their own sections, while trading angry glares and taunts with each other. Silver epaulets identified Gogg’s base, while Ceff’s followers had taken to wearing flowing, brightly colored scarves in emulation of their idol. What few undecideds were present looked both outnumbered and uncomfortable.
I can sympathize, Kirk thought. I’m feeling rather caught in the middle myself.
For better or for worse, he had been drafted to serve as the moderator of the debate after the original moderator, a respected Vokite jurist, had dropped out after receiving death threats in the wake of the assassination attempt and subsequent revelations thereof. Kirk had been reluctant to assume such a prominent role in the proceedings, which struck him as going rather beyond the bounds of simply observing the election, but as apparently he was one of the few individuals whom both sides regarded as sufficiently “neutral” and could agree on, he had grudgingly consented to emcee the event. He hoped that this would entail nothing more than occasionally playing referee or timekeeper if one or the other candidate overstepped the established rules of the debate. Certainly, he had no intention of trying to steal the spotlight from either Ceff or Gogg.
I’m just here to keep the proceedings on track.
With that in mind, Kirk sat at a low table at the rear of the stage, behind the candidates, which also had the advantage of offering him a good view of the audience. In light of recent events and controversies, security was tighter than at a Federation summit, with an excess amount of both Enterprise personnel and Vokite peace officers on hand to maintain order and protect the polarized audience from itself. Needless to say, no spear-swallowers or plasma-breathers were performing tonight, nor any other entertainment for that matter. This crowd didn’t need to be warmed up; if anything, they were already on the verge of boiling over.
Tonight was all about the candidates.
Appropriately, Ceff and Gogg entered from opposite sides of the stage to take their places behind twin podiums. A concert-sized viewscreen, at least twenty meters high, magnified their images and voices for the folks in the cheap seats, as well as for Vokites watching the live transmission all across the globe. Cheers and jeers greeted the candidates, who were separated by a few meters of stage, not to mention vast ideological differences. Ceff attempted to bridge that gap by approaching Gogg, her hand extended, but received only an icy glare from the General, who was apparently not quite over being framed for conspiracy to commit murder by his opponent’s brother.
No surprise there, Kirk thought. Gogg has reason to be angry.
Her sportsmanlike overture rebuffed, Ceff retreated to her podium on Kirk’s right. Applause and catcalls persisted, forcing Kirk to call for silence. A public-address system amplified his voice so that it rang out over the crater.
“Quiet, everyone, please. We’re all here to hear the candidates speak. Let’s give them the opportunity to do so.”
The hubbub died down, much to the relief of Kirk, who kept his remarks and introductions brief in the interest of getting the debate underway.
“Both candidates will begin by making their opening statements,” he said. “As determined by a random drawing, Doctor Ceff will go first.”
“Thank you, Captain Kirk.”
She waited for another wave of cheers and hisses to subside. This was her first public appearance or statement since the news of Div’s crimes had spread across the planet. Kirk had some knowledge of how she intended to address the scandal, so he waited expectantly for the fireworks to come.
“Brothers, sisters, elders, children, you have all heard the troubling reports and rumors concerning a scandal at the heart of my campaign. It is my sad duty to inform you that much of what you have heard is true. My own brother, Div, whom I still love dearly, staged the shocking attempt on my life that took place on this very stage only days ago. He also conspired to falsely blame General Gogg for the attack and even committed murder to cover up his crimes.”
The stark admission provoked an uproar in the audience. People leaped to their feet, shouting furiously. Gogg’s supporters appeared both outraged and vindicated, while Ceff’s fans reacted with visible dismay. Many of them, Kirk suspected, had been hoping that the charges against Div were false and that Ceff would vigorously dispute them. That she had just done the opposite had thrown them for a loop.
“You hear!” Gogg thundered from his podium. He cast an accusing finger at Ceff. “She admits that I have been wrongly slandered… and by her own kin no less!”
“General,” Kirk said firmly. “Please wait your turn. You will have your opportunity to speak, I assure you, but let’s allow Doctor Ceff to finish her remarks without interruption.”
Gogg scowled, but he fell silent long enough for Ceff to continue.
“That my brother acted out of a tragic excess of loyalty to me and my campaign does not excuse his crimes. Know that he has made a full confession to the proper authorities and will be prosecuted to the full extent of the law, regardless of the outcome of the election. Justice will be served.”
“And what of the damage to my name and honor?” Gogg challenged her. “Where is the justice there?”
Kirk chose to overlook the interruption so that Ceff could respond directly.
“Let me take this opportunity, General, to extend my sincere apologies for my brother’s efforts to implicate you in a crime you played no part in.”
“And you think a mere apology is enough?” he said, unmoved.
Ceff shook her head. “No, I realize it is far from sufficient. Although I promise you and all of Vok that I had no knowledge of my brother’s crimes, I recognize that his heinous acts have irrevocably damaged the credibility of my campaign and my candidacy, so that while I may hope for your collective trust in my innocence, I cannot realistically expect it. Our world’s next leader must be above suspicion.” She took a deep breath. “It is for that reason that I am formally withdrawing from the race.”
There it is, Kirk thought.
As he’d expected, the announcement triggered an explosive reaction among the audience. Gogg’s side erupted in jubilation, whooping in victory, while Ceff’s defenders looked as though they had just been stunned by a wide-angle phaser burst. Many of the latter sobbed openly, tears streaming down their faces, to the delight of the crowing Gogg partisans. The General himself merely nodded in satisfaction, even as his aide, Sozz, rushed from the wings to congratulate him.
“Wait!” Ceff shouted over the tumult. She raised her hands to quiet the crowd. “Let me make one thing clear: although I am stepping down as a candidate, we are not surrendering the election to General Gogg. The future of our planet is too important for that. It is for that reason that I urge you to vote instead for my esteemed and abundantly qualified friend and colleague, the remarkable Ms. Prup!”
She beckoned to her protégée, who strode out onto the stage. Kirk admired Prup’s poise under the circumstances. If the passionate young activist was at all nervous about stepping into the spotlight, she didn’t show it.
“Objection!” Gogg boomed, his deep voice reverberating above the startled reactions of the crowd, many of whom were still on their feet. He stared contemptuously at Ceff. “Your seditious campaign has been proven corrupt and illegitimate. You and your fellow radicals have relinquished any right to vie for the leadership of our precious world. Do not think you can thrust your handpicked puppet upon us while you pretend to step aside. We see through this fraud just as we saw through your libelous plot to defame me, just as we saw through your brazen attempt to deceive the people!”
Prup took Ceff’s place at the podium as the prior candidate retreated toward the wings, ceding the floor to her successor.
“I am no puppet, General, and our people deserve a choice, despite everything. I am ready and willing to debate you before our world.”
“Save your breath,” Gogg said. “I shall not legitimize this fraud by taking part in a debate with a puppet candidate backed by a criminal conspiracy.” He turned away from Prup to address the audience instead. “I call upon all true Vokites, to all who still believe in honor and courage and patriotism, to stand up against this fraud and those who would perpetuate it. Never forget how this supposedly ‘fair’ election was almost stolen by liars and murderers.” He shook his fist in the air. “We must fight back against those who will clearly stop at nothing to seize control of our glorious world… and all who stand with them!”
Angry shouts and raised fists answered Gogg’s call to arms. Kirk feared the General was coming dangerously close to inciting violence. He felt obliged to speak up via the public-address system.
“Excuse me, General. At the risk of interrupting, I want to give you a chance to clarify your remarks. I assume you are merely exhorting your fellow citizens to ‘fight’ back at the polls, correct?”
“You may assume whatever you wish, Captain,” the General said, seemingly undaunted by Kirk’s attempt to dial down his inflammatory rhetoric. “I am grateful for your role in clearing my name, but do not presume to put words in my mouth.” He stepped away from the podium, even as his imposing figure loomed upon the giant viewscreen behind him. “We are done with this farce. I will not be party to a hoax.”
He started to march off the stage.
“General!” Kirk rose from the moderator’s chair. “Don’t do this. There is still an election before us.”
“That’s right!” Prup called out. “Please, General, Vok deserves to hear from both of us!”
