A contest of principles, p.37
A Contest of Principles, page 37
“The only appropriate response to that query,” Spock said, “is ‘No comment.’ That Rayob has retired is a matter of record. We can only speculate about the motive behind this decision.”
A groan escaped the comm unit.
“Anyone ever told you, Spock, that trying to pry secrets from you is like wringing blood from a Horta?”
“Thank you, Mister Colc. I pride myself on my discretion.”
“It wasn’t a compliment. I don’t suppose I can interview the good doctor himself?”
As it happened, McCoy was standing in the cockpit directly behind Spock, listening in on the conversation, while looking considerably more clean-shaven now that he had divested himself of his artificial whiskers. He shook his head at Spock.
“Perhaps another time,” Spock said. “We are understandably eager to return to the Enterprise and will soon be out of range for secure communications of this nature.”
“Don’t pull that on me, Spock! We had a deal!”
“Speaking of which,” Spock said in a deliberate attempt to change the subject, “may I ask if you have been in contact with Hynn V’sta?”
“And then some,” the other man reported. “I’ve got to admit, you came through for me there. She reached out to me not long after you took off for Ozalor, wanting to tell her side of the story. Our friends at the Tranquility Bureau aren’t exactly pleased with me for airing that interview, but the public’s interested in what she has to say, even if they don’t all agree with her.”
Spock was pleased to hear this. “An open exchange of views is generally preferable to armed conflict.”
“I’m not entirely sure Inspector Wibb would agree with you. I’ve offered him equal time, but so far he prefers to keep the free press at a distance. His loss, if you ask me.” It was easy to visualize the reporter shrugging. “Not that I go easy on V’sta, of course. I’m nobody’s propaganda tool.”
“That much is evident, Mister Colc. I wish you the best of luck in your future endeavors.”
“Hold on there, Spock! We’re not done yet. I still have plenty of questions!”
Of that Spock had no doubt, but he judged that he had more than fulfilled the terms of their bargain, possibly to good effect where Braco was concerned. His fingers manipulated the comm controls to distort the frequency.
“You will have to forgive me, Mister Colc. The signal is breaking up. Spock out.”
He switched off the transmission to forestall any further wrangling on the part of the reporter. McCoy chuckled at the ploy.
“Nicely played, Spock. The captain would be proud.”
“My ego requires no boosting, Doctor, but I will accept your observation in the spirit in which it is intended.”
“Well, isn’t that big of you,” McCoy said, indulging his customary irascibility. “That reminds me, Spock, you know what I missed about these little talks of ours?”
“I’m confident you are about to inform me.”
“Nothing,” McCoy drawled. “I didn’t miss your smug Vulcan attitude one bit.”
“Then I trust you enjoyed your vacation, Doctor.”
“Vacation?” McCoy raised his voice. “You think what I just went through was a vacation? Why, you green-blooded, clueless excuse for a Good Samaritan…”
Spock’s keen hearing picked up insufficiently suppressed laughter in the passenger compartment. He chose to take this as a reliable indicator of good morale aboard the shuttlecraft.
“Please take your seat, Doctor. We still have a long way to go before we reach the Enterprise.” Spock pivoted toward Levine, who was at the helm. “Set course for Vok, Lieutenant. Maximum safe speed.”
“Aye, aye, sir. You don’t have to tell me twice.”
“Naturally,” Spock said, bemused by the expression. “That would be redundant.”
Forty-Four
Captain’s Log, Stardate 6787.2: With my crew at last reunited, and the election on Vok concluded, we are making ready to depart the sector and return to Federation space, but first Mister Spock is briefing us on a scientific discovery of considerable significance.
“The evidence suggests,” Spock began, “that none of this sector’s humanoids are actually native to the region. In my estimation, the Vokites, the Ozalorians, and even the Bracons are most likely the descendants of an interstellar civilization that colonized this sector long before the parent civilization collapsed or contracted eons ago. Indeed, there is reason to believe that the only actual natives of this sector are a species of primitive, cave-dwelling life-forms I encountered on Braco.”
A peculiar three-legged creature occupied the triscreen in the Enterprise’s main conference room. Kirk contemplated the image with interest. Also present at the briefing were McCoy, a yeoman to take notes, and Commissioner Dare, who had been discharged from sickbay. Conspicuously missing was Steve Tanaka, who had chosen to remain on Vok to face charges for sabotaging VP-One. Kirk understood that the young man hoped to atone for his crime by devoting himself to the planet’s welfare—and possibly Sergeant Myp as well. Thankfully, the policewoman had indeed been released by her captors following the destruction of the satellite. President-Elect Prup, as well as the planet’s Civic Security agencies, were not taking her kidnapping lightly and had vowed to find and prosecute those responsible.
He’s young, Kirk thought of Tanaka. Plenty of time to make up for his mistake.
“It is even possible,” Spock continued, “that most of the other flora and fauna on Braco, and not just the humanoids, were transplanted to the planet eons ago.”
Kirk pushed Tanaka out of his mind in order to fully concentrate on what Spock was saying.
“A provocative theory, Mister Spock. Please elaborate.”
Spock gestured at the exotic life-form on the screen. “The possibility first occurred to me when I discovered that the trivets have copper-based blood, unlike any other known life-forms in this sector.”
“A relative of yours?” Kirk quipped.
“Unlikely,” Spock replied, “although one particular trivet seemed under that impression. It sensed the copper-based nature of my blood and was understandably intrigued.”
McCoy nodded. “Chapel mentioned something about you picking up a three-legged shadow on Braco.” He grinned at Spock. “Green blood is thicker than water, I guess.”
“Its curiosity was quite understandable,” Spock replied. “I was almost surely the only other copper-based life-form that this trivet had ever encountered. Its unique nature, compared to the other inhabitants of the sector, suggests that the trivets and the Bracons did not evolve from a common ancestor.” He paused for emphasis before going on. “It is theoretically possible, of course, that two entirely different forms of life could evolve independently on a single world, but that is hardly probable. The simpler, and therefore more likely, explanation is that one strain of life-form originated elsewhere.”
Dare nodded. “I grasp your reasoning, Mister Spock, but why assume that the humanoids aren’t native to this sector? Perhaps these mysterious ‘trivets’ are the aliens?”
Spock called up another image, replacing the trivet with a picture of a tile mosaic depicting humanoid pioneers working their fields while curious trivets scurried about the borders of the artwork.
“This mosaic,” Spock explained, “was found within a forgotten bunker on Braco. It dates back to before the apocalyptic conflict that leveled the planet’s prior civilization. The image suggests that the trivets roamed the planet while it was being settled by early Bracons. I theorize, in fact, that the art depicts the original colonization of the planet by visitors from elsewhere.”
He zeroed in on the upper left-hand corner of the mosaic, enlarging that section of the image, so that a trio of background figures could be better seen. Unlike the Bracon individuals in the foreground, these smaller figures were partially obscured by a shimmering purple glow, producing an artistic effect that rendered them much less distinct.
“I call your attention to the way these particular Bracons are depicted,” Spock said, “as though they’re beaming onto the scene from space by means of a Bracon transporter beam.”
Kirk squinted at the image. “That’s a bold speculation, Mister Spock.”
“Quite,” Spock agreed, “and in itself this mosaic hardly constitutes definitive evidence. It is merely one piece of the puzzle. Since we returned to the Enterprise, I have conducted an extensive search of the relevant databases and discovered that, in fact, there is no fossil record of humanoid life evolving on Braco or anywhere else in the sector.”
“None?” Kirk asked in surprise.
“None whatsoever,” Spock stated. “No evidence of early primates or hominids, nor any pre-apocalyptic cave paintings, stone-age tools, burial sites, or any other indicators of early protohumanoids once populating the planet.”
McCoy poured himself a cup of water from a pitcher. “And nobody ever noticed this before?”
“The accepted explanation is that all such evidence was destroyed by the interstellar war millennia ago. With so much of their early history lost to the global devastation, it appears to have been all too easy for Bracon archaeologists to assume that any trace of their prehistory had been swept away as well.”
“What about the trivets?” Kirk asked.
Naturally, Spock was prepared for that query. “It required some digging, but, as it happens, there are stray reports of what might be fossilized trivet remains turning up over the years. Curiously, they have attracted little attention, and have even occasionally been dismissed as hoaxes, perhaps because they do not readily fit into the established narrative regarding the development of life on Braco.”
“Not so curious to me, Mister Spock,” Dare observed. “Speaking as a politician, not a scientist, institutions tend to resist data that runs counter to their agendas, especially if they’re already heavily invested in another paradigm.”
Spock nodded in understanding. “Such as the myth that Braco is the birthplace of their species, as opposed to merely an offshoot of some forgotten interstellar civilization.”
“But who colonized Braco?” Kirk asked. “And what became of them?”
“An excellent question, Captain, deserving of further study.” Spock switched off the triscreen. “As we are well aware, our galaxy is littered with the remnants of extinct races and civilizations, whose origins are lost in deep time: the Kalandans, the Zetarians, the long-dead inhabitants of Camus II, Sargon’s people, and many others. Galactic history is vast enough for some ancient people to have planted their seed on Braco, only to fade from memory with the passing of eons.”
“And a cataclysmic war or two,” Kirk added.
“Sadly, yes,” Spock agreed.
“Well, as for the who,” McCoy chimed in, “I may be able to provide another piece of the puzzle.”
“Really, Doctor?” Spock said. “How so?”
“I did a pretty comprehensive genetic profile of the Ozalorians while treating Avomora,” McCoy said. “In the process, I discovered some markers similar to those found in the DNA of those humanoids we encountered on Gamma Trianguli VI a few years back. Maybe whatever ancient civilization set up that manufactured Eden also colonized Braco at some point, although apparently they refrained from installing any computerized serpent gods in these parts.”
“Come again?” Dare asked, apparently unfamiliar with the Vaal incident.
“Doctor McCoy is referring to a world we visited some time ago,” Kirk explained, “where a primitive humanoid species was being tended to by a computerized system that had obviously been put in place by a more technologically advanced civilization some ten thousand years earlier.” He looked at McCoy. “So we’re thinking that Gamma Trianguli VI and Braco were colonized by the same species?”
“Or that the Bracons and Vaal’s creators shared a common ancestor, even further back in the depths of time,” Spock said, intrigued. “I look forward to reviewing your genetic studies, Doctor.”
“Happy to be of assistance,” McCoy said dryly.
“In any event,” Dare said, “I understand enough of what you’re saying to see that the political implications are game changing. If it can be proven that Braco is not the sacred birthplace of this sector’s feuding peoples, that makes it much less of a prize to be fought over… and therefore less of a bone of contention between Vok and Ozalor.”
“That is only logical,” Spock agreed.
McCoy snorted. “As if logic ever changed anyone’s mind where politics and patriotism were concerned.”
“Sadly, I’m afraid McCoy has a point,” Kirk said. “Not everyone is going to accept, let alone welcome, Spock’s theory at first. As noted, all three planets are deeply invested in a cause they’ve spent many generations fighting over. They’re not going to abandon it overnight because of some admittedly intriguing science.”
“Perhaps not, Captain,” Spock said, “but they deserve the opportunity to better understand their own origins.” He turned to address Dare. “I assume I have your permission, Commissioner, to share my findings with the relevant scientific communities in the sector?”
Dare only needed a moment or two to consider the issue.
“Far be it from the Federation to withhold the truth of their own past from this sector’s inhabitants. Feel free to release your report, Mister Spock. I only ask that we share the data equally with all three worlds.”
“I quite agree, Commissioner,” Kirk said. “What they choose to do with the information is then up to them.”
“Precisely,” Spock said. “It occurs to me, however, that it might be best to make the data available to not just the scientific establishments but to the press as well.”
“Oh,” McCoy said, sounding amused. “You wouldn’t happen to be thinking of any reporter in particular, would you?”
Kirk understood that an investigative journalist on Braco had been instrumental in assisting Spock in his search for McCoy.
“Most definitely, Doctor,” Spock said. “I believe a valid alternative theory about the genesis of their people, of significant political relevance, would constitute… a scoop?”
“One would think,” McCoy said. “But do we really believe the truth will make a difference when it comes to old hatreds and rivalries?”
“Hard to say,” Kirk said. “Peace is a funny thing. Sometimes it takes forever to get going, then it comes on in a rush. In this case, at least the tide of history appears to be heading in the right direction, with the warmongers on the wane and the peacemakers gaining ground.”
“Until the next election,” McCoy said.
“No victory is final, Bones. It’s up to every generation to keep up the good fight… and push the ball along just a little further.”
McCoy sighed. “Sounds exhausting, if you ask me.”
“Better than being complacent,” Kirk said, “and taking our gains for granted.”
“Amen, Captain,” the commissioner said. “If you’ll pardon the expression, politics is more than just a five-year mission. It’s neverending.”
Kirk considered everything they’d gone through since the Enterprise first set course for Vok. It had been a bumpy ride, with plenty of unexpected swerves and detours, but he could live with where they’d ended up. “That being said, I’m inclined to pronounce this particular mission concluded.”
McCoy raised his cup.
“I’ll drink to that,” he said. “And did I mention that I managed to come away with a few bottles of fine Ozalorian vintages, straight from the Yovode’s private cellars?”
Spock sighed. “You are incorrigible, Doctor.”
McCoy smirked. “You just figured that out?”
EPILOGUE
San Francisco
Earth
The Golden Gate Bridge loomed majestically over the sunlit waters below. Imogen Dare took in the view as she sat on a park bench overlooking the bay. It was a crisp fall afternoon and she sipped on a hot latte, savoring the subtle flavoring. A man crossed the park and sat down beside her.
“Sorry to keep you waiting,” Admiral James Komack said. Snowy-white hair, not a strand out of place, betrayed his years even as his trim, fit physique belied them. The insignia on his gold command tunic testified to his rank. “A strategic planning session, addressing the latest Romulan provocations, ran over.”
“No worries,” Dare said. “Gave me a chance to appreciate being back on Earth again.”
“Welcome home,” Komack said, “and congratulations on the success of your assignment, despite some truly formidable obstacles.” A note of sympathy entered his voice. “I trust you’re recovered from the injuries you sustained in the line of duty?”
“Very much so,” she assured him, even as she cringed inwardly at the memory of the attack. She still had some bad moments remembering how close she’d come to being killed, but her Deltan counselor assured her that was to be expected and that she would eventually get past the trauma with time and therapy. “It’s kind of you to ask.”
“Least I could do,” he said stiffly. “Now then, about that other matter I asked you to observe… what’s your take on Jim Kirk and his crew?”
So much for small talk, Dare thought.
Months ago, before Dare had departed Earth to rendezvous with the Enterprise, the admiral had quietly approached her asking for a favor. With Kirk’s five-year mission drawing to a close, Starfleet Command was weighing its options as to how best to deploy Kirk and his senior officers after the Enterprise completed its assigned journey of discovery. In that context, Komack had asked her to discreetly observe Kirk and company in action—with an eye to figuring out their next postings.
“Off the record,” she reported, “the current crew of the Enterprise functions like an exceptionally well-tuned machine. At this point, they know each other’s strengths and capabilities and rely on them without hesitation. Even after five years out on the frontier, none of the bridge crew or other senior officers struck me as bored or restless or ready to move on. I observed no festering personality conflicts nor slackening in discipline.” She paused to finish off her latte as she collected her thoughts. “This particular assignment threw any number of unexpected curveballs at them, including ambushes and abductions, assassination attempts and conspiracies, but they did their duty, with Captain Kirk stepping up after I landed in sickbay.”
