A contest of principles, p.33
A Contest of Principles, page 33
“I hope this was worth it, Mister Tanaka.”
Tanaka averted his eyes from the screen. “They said they’d release Myp once the satellite was atoms. She should be safe now.” He took a deep breath to steady himself. “You can throw the book at me if you want. I take full responsibility.”
Kirk hoped he was right about Myp being safe. “What makes you think her captors can be trusted?”
“Because, ultimately, she’s one of their own and they got what they wanted. They have no reason to harm her now.” He sounded like a man desperate to convince himself. “And because, honestly, the alternative is… unthinkable.”
Kirk didn’t feel like challenging the man’s hopes. At this point, there was nothing to be gained by adding to Tanaka’s anxieties. Kirk wanted to think Myp would be okay as well, if only so some good came out of this debacle.
“Well, that’s it,” Dare said unhappily. She sounded more troubled by the loss of Vok Populi than by her own near brush with death. “The election has vanished along with VP-One. And you just know that Gogg and his followers are going to press to have him declared the winner since Ceff forfeited and they don’t accept Prup as a legitimate candidate. That would have been a harder argument to make if Prup had racked up a majority of votes, but now?” She grimaced in anticipation of the strife to come. “Not that the executive committee is likely to cave to Gogg’s demands without a fight. We could be talking an attempted coup or, worst-case scenario, a civil war, all because the election will need to be called off.”
Kirk refused to accept that. “But surely there must be a backup system, some other way to tally the votes?”
“I wish!” Dare shook her head. “Less-sophisticated processes, such as those used in the past, have already been rejected as being too vulnerable to human tampering or error. You underestimate how unique VP-One was. There’s no other computer on the planet that can match its capacities.”
A thought struck Kirk. “On the planet, you say?”
“I know that look, Captain,” Chekov said, grinning. “You have a plan, don’t you?”
A hint of a smile lifted Kirk’s lip.
“Possibly, but we’re going to have to work fast.”
Thirty-Nine
Ozalor
“Greetings, Doctor. I am pleased to find you well, if rather more hirsute than usual.”
Spock reacted to McCoy’s appearance with his customary equanimity, although he was gratified that their lengthy search for the missing physician had finally succeeded. McCoy stood in a doorway within Avomora’s private chambers, his familiar face obscured by whiskers of dubious authenticity.
“Don’t get me started.” McCoy scratched irritably at his facial camouflage. “But it’s good to see you, too, Spock, not to mention the rest of you.”
“Doctor!” Chapel rushed forward, displaying rather more emotion than Spock. She beamed at the sight of her long-lost colleague. “You have no idea how glad I am to see you again. I’ve been worried sick about you!”
“Likewise,” McCoy said. “They told me you and Levine had been left safely behind on Braco, and I had no real reason to doubt them, but seeing is believing.” He nodded at Levine, who was hanging back with Godwin. “Nice to see you up and about as well, Lieutenant.”
“We never stopped looking for you, Doctor,” Levine replied.
“I would hope not,” McCoy said dryly. “Still, imagine my surprise when Avo told me that a Starfleet shuttle had touched down on Ozalor… and that you were right here in the palace!”
“I could hardly do otherwise.”
Avomora appeared in the doorway behind McCoy. Spock observed that she was standing on her own two legs, albeit a bit shakily. She leaned against one side of the archway as though in need of its support. Her face seemed paler and more strained than he recalled from their brief meeting in the gymnasium.
“Not with your life in jeopardy,” she added.
“And what about your life?” Jemo hurried to the princess’s side. “You need McCoy’s help, now more than ever.”
“My health is not worth another’s life,” Avomora insisted. “But, please, gentlemen, ladies, step inside my study and make yourselves comfortable.”
Spock suspected that she needed to sit down as well. He turned to Godwin and Levine. “Watch the entrance to these chambers while we confer with the doctor and his allies. It is only a matter of time before our escape from the dungeons is detected.”
“Aye, sir,” Godwin said. “We’re on it.”
Confident that the security officers were on the alert, Spock followed the others into a somewhat cluttered study whose shelves indicated a wide and somewhat eclectic range of interests. Avomora sank with obvious relief into her mobile chair, eliciting a worried look from Jemo.
“Just how are you doing anyway?” she asked the crown princess. “I thought you were only faking another bad spell to give you an excuse to summon Doctor McCoy at this time of night?”
Spock understood that, as part of their plan, Avomora had arranged for McCoy to be waiting for them here after the landing party effected their escape from the dungeon. He considered extracting the miniature earpiece from his ear now that it was no longer necessary, but chose to retain it as a precaution, should events take an unwelcome turn and they found themselves in custody again.
“I was only kind of faking it,” Avomora admitted. She gingerly massaged a watery eye as though it troubled her. She shivered beneath a replacement quilt. “Not feeling all that great, to be honest.”
“Already?” Jemo asked. “Vumri healed you just a few days ago.”
“Not sure ‘healed’ is the word for it,” McCoy grumbled, “considering how frequently her treatments are needed.”
The doctor’s concern for his royal patient was obvious. Spock wondered if she had truly needed the chair when she visited the gymnasium or if that had just been a ruse to deliver the quilt holding the earpiece. Or perhaps she had merely exaggerated her actual symptoms on that occasion.
“I’ll survive,” she said curtly. “Now is no time to fret over my condition yet again.” She looked at Spock. “Congratulations on escaping the dungeons on your own.”
“We were not entirely without assistance,” Spock replied. “Your associate proved an invaluable guide when it came to navigating the palace.”
“You’re welcome,” Jemo said with a sarcastic edge to her voice. “Here’s hoping I don’t regret it.”
McCoy ignored her remark. “I gather it’s just the four of you come to liberate me? No reinforcements lurking in the wings?”
“Not at present,” Spock said, “although the Enterprise should be aware of our location by now.”
“Good to know,” McCoy said. “And the ship’s still at Vok, I assume.”
“Affirmative,” Spock said. “Captain Kirk remains committed to our original mission to observe the presidential election, which is underway as we speak.”
“Right. The big election.” McCoy shook his head. “I confess, I’ve been so caught up in affairs here on Ozalor that I’ve barely given any thought to Vok. That seems like a million miles away now.”
“Thirty-four point eight light-years, to be exact,” Spock clarified, “but further discussion of such matters can wait until we have expedited your removal from the palace.”
Spock was already thinking ahead. Their next priority was to vacate the palace before they could be recaptured and then find a safe refuge outside the royal residence from which they could plan their escape from the planet. It was unlikely that they could return to Copernicus, which was presumably still under guard at a military base many kilometers away, so their best recourse was to devise a way to contact Captain Kirk and wait for Galileo or the Enterprise to come for them, as difficult as any such rescue operation was bound to be. Unless, perhaps, Avomora could contrive to smuggle them aboard a craft bound for Braco…
“Just one problem, Spock. I’m not ready to leave.” McCoy nodded at Avomora. “I have a patient who needs me.”
Spock was briefly confounded. He had not anticipated this complication, although, in retrospect, he probably should have.
“Doctor, with all due respect to your professional obligations, we have come a long way to recover you.”
“And don’t think I’m not grateful, Spock, but we have a situation here. I can’t just turn my back on it, not at this point.”
“But you have to leave,” Avomora insisted. “Vumri and her pawns will never let you live if you stay.” She leaned forward in her chair, although this clearly pained her. “I don’t want you to leave either, but I can’t have your death on my conscience.”
“I’d just as soon avoid that too,” McCoy said. “Funny thing about being a doctor, though. We’re supposed to put our patients first.”
“About time you figured that out,” Jemo said, unhelpfully, as far as Spock was concerned. “Listen to him, Avo.”
“But you tried to escape before,” the princess pointed out, “and that was before Vumri tried to have you killed. Now’s your chance to get away.”
“At the time, I didn’t know how to help you,” McCoy said, “but now I have a new approach to try.” He turned toward Spock. “One that involves you, Spock.”
Spock contained his surprise. “How so?”
“Let me try to keep this brief,” McCoy began as he proceeded to recount his failed attempt to cure Avomora by correcting an imbalance in her brain chemistry. He also spoke of Lossu Vumri’s greater success at relieving the princess’s symptoms, if only temporarily. “I’ve been observing Vumri’s sessions with Avo. They do seem to help her in the short term, but the relapses are coming faster and stronger the more Vumri treats her.”
“Could she be building up an immunity to the treatments?” Chapel asked. “So that she needs more frequent ‘healings’ just to get the same effect?”
“Possibly,” McCoy said, “but I suspect it’s more than that. I think that Avo—or to be more precise, her brain—has grown so dependent on Vumri’s treatments that she’s now suffering withdrawal symptoms if she goes too long without them, which would explain why she’s getting worse, not better, despite my best efforts to treat the root cause of her condition.”
“Wait a moment,” Jemo said. “Are you saying that Vumri’s so-called gifts are what’s making Avo sick in the first place?”
McCoy shook his head. “No, not in the beginning. There was an imbalance in her brain, which my compound should have corrected, but the fact that her symptoms are worsening instead makes me think that maybe Vumri’s ‘cure’ has become the disease.” He looked at Spock, who found himself intrigued by McCoy’s theory despite the precariousness of their situation. “Tell me, Spock. This is more your field of expertise than mine. Is there such a thing—could there be such a thing—as telepathic addiction? Telepathic withdrawal?”
“It is not inconceivable,” Spock stated. “In the case of a Vulcan mind-meld, care is taken to fully disengage with the subject at the conclusion of the meld, to avoid any lingering connection that might compromise the individuals involved, but Vulcans are hardly the only species possessing telepathic gifts, nor our ways the only ways in which the powers of the mind can be exerted. It might be possible, in theory, for a telepathic contact to have lasting and pernicious effects such as you describe.”
“Excuse me,” Chapel interrupted. “I’m confused. Are Ozalorians telepaths? I wasn’t aware of that.”
“Not all of us,” Avomora said, “nor even most. It’s a special gift possessed only by a chosen few.”
“Not unlike humans,” Spock reminded Chapel. “Even your own species vary in terms of their esper ratings, with certain individuals capable of cultivating such gifts with the proper training, as in the case of Doctor Miranda Jones. Granted, the human propensity toward emotionality means that most humans lack the mental discipline to fully develop whatever innate abilities they may possess. No offense intended.”
“None taken,” McCoy said. “I’ll take healthy human emotions over mind-reading tricks any day. But that’s where you come in, Spock. As much as I hate to admit it, I can use a consult on this case… of a Vulcan variety.”
Spock arched an eyebrow. “Indeed?”
“I’ve done thorough scans of Avo’s brain and nervous system before and after Vumri treats her. Sure enough, the results show some unusual variations in her brain-wave activity, but when it comes to telepathy, I’m not too proud to admit that I’m out of my depth. This is your bailiwick, Spock. I was hoping you’d show up eventually, with or without the captain.”
Spock was troubled by the direction of the conversation.
“Do I understand you correctly, Doctor? Are you suggesting that I join minds with Her Highness, for diagnostic purposes?”
McCoy nodded.
“It’s asking a lot, I know,” he said soberly. “I’ve experienced a mind-meld or two, so I understand that it’s not something to be embarked on lightly. But I’ve gone as far as I can with my tricorder. I need you to tell me what exactly Vumri is doing to Avo… and how we can fix it.”
Avomora leaned forward in her chair. “Please, Mister Spock, if there’s anything you can do to free me from Vumri once and for all.”
The heartfelt nature of her appeal stirred Spock’s compassion, yet he questioned the advisability of McCoy’s proposal, and not only because a mind-meld was always a daunting prospect in itself.
“I appreciate your distress,” Spock said, “and do not wish to appear uncaring. I am concerned, however, about the larger implications. I do not claim to grasp the subtleties of Ozalorian politics as well as you must, but I gather that this is more than merely a medical matter, that there is a crucial power struggle involved as well. That being the case, I have profound reservations about meddling in the royal intrigues of an independent world.”
“Forget about the politics, Spock!” McCoy said with characteristic emotion. “We’re talking about a flesh-and-blood person in need. Look at her, Spock. Can’t you see she’s suffering and needs our help?”
“I am not blind to that fact, Doctor, but one cannot simply ignore the other factors involved. Even you must realize that there are larger issues to consider.”
“What I realize and what I feel are not the same thing.” McCoy spoke softly but with conviction. He looked Spock squarely in the eyes. “It’s not about logic, Spock, or the big picture. It’s about what I can live with.”
“This young lady helped us find Doctor McCoy,” Chapel said, weighing in. “We’d still be searching for him if not for her.”
“If there’s even a chance that you can break Vumri’s hold on Avo, you have to try it,” Jemo said forcefully. “Believe me, showing that witch the door is in everyone’s best interest, including your Federation.”
“Jemo’s not wrong,” McCoy said. “I don’t know if you’ve had the dubious pleasure of meeting the esteemed Lossu, but she’s not exactly a big fan of the Federation… or peace with Vok.”
“We’ve met,” Spock confirmed.
In truth, he was offended on principle by the possibility that someone might abuse telepathy to abuse and control another. That went against everything he believed—as a Starfleet officer and a Vulcan.
“I take it you will not come willingly, Doctor?”
“That’s the long and short of it.” McCoy crossed his arms atop his chest. “I’m sorry, Spock, but my oath as a doctor trumps your command status.”
“Then it appears I have no choice,” Spock concluded. “Logically, I cannot complete my mission and return you to the Enterprise without your cooperation, which dictates that we must first do our best by your patient.” He approached Avomora. “Do you fully understand what is being proposed and all it entails?”
“I believe so,” she said. “I’ve read about the Vulcan merging of minds and talked about it with Doctor Bones… I mean, McCoy. And it’s not as though I haven’t already had Vumri mucking about with my brain. Might be nice to have somebody else drop in for a change.”
Spock heard the bitterness behind her humor. “Then I have your consent to proceed?”
“Whatever it takes, Mister Spock.” She stiffened her shoulders. “And not just for my sake. Ozalor deserves an Heir who can reign without relying on a healer who cares only for her own ambitions.”
“Very well, then.” Spock surveyed the crowded study. “This setting will do, although a degree of privacy would be preferable.”
“I’d like to stay and monitor her condition,” McCoy said. “Given her ailment, we can’t be sure how she’ll cope with the meld.”
“A reasonable precaution,” Spock agreed.
Chapel lingered in the study. “Can you use my assistance, Doctor?”
“By all means,” McCoy said. “Don’t know how I’ve managed without you. It’s felt like I’ve been missing my right hand all this time.”
All eyes turned toward Jemo.
“Uh-uh,” she said. “Don’t even think I’m leaving her to face this alone.”
“Doctor’s orders,” McCoy said. “The best thing you can do now is help make sure we’re not disturbed.”
“It’s all right, Jemo,” Avomora said. “I’ll be fine.”
“Easy for you to say. You’re not the bodyguard.”
“No,” Avomora said. “Just the patient.” She gestured weakly at the door, the effort obviously costing her. “Go. Let the doctor and his associates do their work. You can check on me afterward.”
“You bet I will,” Jemo said, giving in. “I’ll be right outside if you need me.”
She exited the study, drawing a curtain behind her.
Spock watched Jemo leave, then turned back toward the stricken princess. Acutely aware that imprisonment or worse awaited them should they be recaptured by the palace guards, he saw no reason to delay the meld.
“Shall we begin?”
Forty
Ozalor
“Are you ready?” Spock asked.
