The Captain of My Soul
Chapter 2: The Fell Clutch of Circumstance
~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~
In the Deck 7 rec room, Pavel Chekov sat in a corner reading an antique book and silently drinking a glass of synthesized vodka. The author was the old American poet E. A. Poe, translated into Russian and checked out from the ship's library. Reading books had never very much interested Pavel, until Ligeia Ford had signed on. Her vivacious spirit had captivated him since the first day they'd met, and the two quickly became friends. Pavel had found himself drawn more and more to the old dusty corner of the ship where Ligeia spent her days straightening out the labyrinth that the neglected library had become. Poe was one of Ligeia's favorite authors, and after discovering Pavel's desire to become a Starfleet security chief, she'd begun introducing him to mysteries.
"Friends", of course, was an understatement now. They loved each other.
Pavel put down his book and took one last drink of his vodka. I wonder if she'd like a visit? wondered Pavel. He turned towards Turboshaft 1… and walked smack into the closed doors.
It didn't hurt, but a shocked Pavel still grabbed his head. He stared at the doors in puzzlement, then glanced around to make sure no late-returning crewmen had seen his mishap. It would not look good on his record if word got around that a half-drunk Navigator had walked into the Turbolift doors in the middle of the night on his way to pay a visit to his on-duty girlfriend.
Maybe the lift was in use. Pavel stood in front of the lift for a few minutes, then decided the whole affair was ridiculous. He took a brief detour, and slowly approached Turboshaft 2. No cool whish of the doors greeted him. During the day, the Enterprise was such a bustle of activity that it was possible for both lifts to be in use, thus requiring a wait for either. However, during the night, it was extremely rare for a crewman to have to wait on a lift.
The hair on the back of his neck rose. The security guard inside him became aware that something was wrong, but the tired Navigator chose to ignore it. Probably just an equipment malfunction. Their last mission had been tough on the Enterprise. Scotty probably hadn't had time to fix everything. Those Poe stories were really getting to him. Pavel decided to switch back to Tolstoy in the morning.
Turning back the other way, Chekov returned to his quarters and the nice, warm bed that awaited him. The turbolift situation was already out of his mind.
The bridge was terrifyingly quiet. Uhura and Ligeia sat together on the floor, each one wondering what was going to happen. Not fearing for their lives. The two officers had been on enough missions to know that death could come anytime. The women were afraid for the Enterprise and the unknown mission Tremont was using her for.
He hadn't said a word since taking over almost an hour ago. Ligeia, always rebellious of situations she wasn't in control of, was furiously plotting ways to get out of this mess. Unfortunately, she couldn't think of anything plausible. She looked over at Uhura. The other woman's eyes flitted from place to place, never pausing too long in one area of the bridge.
Slowly, quietly, Ligeia raised her right arm, the one closest to the helm. She reached over to the handle on the side of the Navigator's station that released the panel.
Ligeia stretched as far as she could without making obvious her intentions. She glanced up at Tremont, saw he was still busy controlling every part of the ship, and made a small, subtle lean towards the helm. Still, the handle was centimeters out of her reach. Farther… a little more…
She lost her balance and fell over. Tremont jumped up from the station and grabbed Ligeia by the arms. He pulled her up roughly and threw her down again meters away from where she'd been before. Her stomach reeled in pain as Tremont's boot landed with force in the middle of her stomach.
Uhura took her chance. While Tremont was dealing with Ligeia's distraction, she leapt off the floor and sat down in the Navigator's seat. Furiously working the controls, she tried to undo Tremont's damage. Before she could do anything significant, he was upon her, yanking her out of the chair. Uhura's arm bumped a button as she fell, causing the ship to buck violently. They fell to the floor, Tremont crushing her with the force of his fall. Tremont pushed himself up and stabilized the ship. Once the floor leveled, he pulled a long string out of his pocket.
"I should have done this earlier, but I thought you ladies"- he said the word as if it were an insult- "deserved to keep your dignity. I now see that I was wrong." Tremont walked over to Ligeia, who had propped herself up on one arm and clutched her stomach with the other. He grabbed her supporting arm and dragged her over to Uhura's side. He carefully yet forcefully tied their hands together, then their feet. Uhura and Ligeia were completely unable to move without taking the other with them.
Just as he tied the final knot at Uhura's ankle, the communication inset at Tremont's panel beeped. "Bridge, this is Kirk. Report."
The three of them held their breath.
Tremont gazed at Uhura, then said, "Don't view this as an accomplishment, Miss Uhura. You've only succeeded in making me declare my intentions earlier than planned. It will in no way alter the fate of you or this vessel." He rose and returned to his panel. Touching a button, he said, "Bridge. Tremont here."
"Trouble on the bridge, Ensign?" Kirk asked. He sounded as if he'd just been awakened.
Malachi Tremont smiled coolly. "No sir. Everything is under my control."
The nuance escaped the drowsy captain. "What caused the turbulence a moment ago? I was in the middle of a dream."
"Everything is under my control, captain," replied the Ensign.
Kirk finally seemed to catch on. "Who's on duty tonight? Let me speak to the Duty officer."
"I've relieved Miss Ford and Miss Uhura. Now, Captain, I believe I've given you all you need to know. Goodnight." He cut the connection in the middle of Kirk's angry reply. Tremont smiled sardonically at his captives, then opened a shipwide channel.
"Good evening, fellow crewmembers, or maybe I should say good morning. This is Malachi Tremont, whom most of you know as night-watch navigator. What you don't know is that I'm also an agent in the Vivalian Liberation League. The League is dedicated to advancing the Glorious Vivalian Revolution and the establishment of a new Vivalian government where the rights of the people shall not be hindered by out-dated, repressive, and discriminatory dogma meant to suppress the Will of the People.
"I believe it was the Earthman Thomas Jefferson who wrote that government should be established by a mandate from the People. The vaunted Federation operates on the principle that all beings, humanoid or alien, male or female, black, white, or purple, are guaranteed the right to instate their own government and the right to remove that government should the needs of the People fail to be met.
"For years the League has struggled with the oppression of the Vivalian People. Our meetings have been broken up. Our buildings bombed. Our equipment sabotaged. The Vivalian 'government' used force against group of League demonstrators participating in a protest. How long must the People be suppressed? How long must we submit to a tyrannical mockery of justice? How long must we wait for our freedom?
"With this ship, the League can overthrow the tyranny that passes for government on Vivali. Carefully placed Phaser blasts can take out government installations with minimal harm to the People. The League will quickly seize control. Then, and only then, will I surrender.
"On the bridge with me, I have Lieutenant Uhura and Lieutenant Ford. They are my hostages. If there is an effort to stop this ship or reclaim control, I will kill them. That won't make for a pretty scene. So it is in your best interest to sit back and enjoy the ride."
Tremont cut the channel, then sat back in the navigator's chair, seeming pleased with himself.
Ligeia pulled at the ties on her wrist, but it merely succeeded in pulling Uhura's arms a little. The two women were stuck.
Chapter 2: The Fell Clutch of Circumstance
~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~
In the Deck 7 rec room, Pavel Chekov sat in a corner reading an antique book and silently drinking a glass of synthesized vodka. The author was the old American poet E. A. Poe, translated into Russian and checked out from the ship's library. Reading books had never very much interested Pavel, until Ligeia Ford had signed on. Her vivacious spirit had captivated him since the first day they'd met, and the two quickly became friends. Pavel had found himself drawn more and more to the old dusty corner of the ship where Ligeia spent her days straightening out the labyrinth that the neglected library had become. Poe was one of Ligeia's favorite authors, and after discovering Pavel's desire to become a Starfleet security chief, she'd begun introducing him to mysteries.
"Friends", of course, was an understatement now. They loved each other.
Pavel put down his book and took one last drink of his vodka. I wonder if she'd like a visit? wondered Pavel. He turned towards Turboshaft 1… and walked smack into the closed doors.
It didn't hurt, but a shocked Pavel still grabbed his head. He stared at the doors in puzzlement, then glanced around to make sure no late-returning crewmen had seen his mishap. It would not look good on his record if word got around that a half-drunk Navigator had walked into the Turbolift doors in the middle of the night on his way to pay a visit to his on-duty girlfriend.
Maybe the lift was in use. Pavel stood in front of the lift for a few minutes, then decided the whole affair was ridiculous. He took a brief detour, and slowly approached Turboshaft 2. No cool whish of the doors greeted him. During the day, the Enterprise was such a bustle of activity that it was possible for both lifts to be in use, thus requiring a wait for either. However, during the night, it was extremely rare for a crewman to have to wait on a lift.
The hair on the back of his neck rose. The security guard inside him became aware that something was wrong, but the tired Navigator chose to ignore it. Probably just an equipment malfunction. Their last mission had been tough on the Enterprise. Scotty probably hadn't had time to fix everything. Those Poe stories were really getting to him. Pavel decided to switch back to Tolstoy in the morning.
Turning back the other way, Chekov returned to his quarters and the nice, warm bed that awaited him. The turbolift situation was already out of his mind.
The bridge was terrifyingly quiet. Uhura and Ligeia sat together on the floor, each one wondering what was going to happen. Not fearing for their lives. The two officers had been on enough missions to know that death could come anytime. The women were afraid for the Enterprise and the unknown mission Tremont was using her for.
He hadn't said a word since taking over almost an hour ago. Ligeia, always rebellious of situations she wasn't in control of, was furiously plotting ways to get out of this mess. Unfortunately, she couldn't think of anything plausible. She looked over at Uhura. The other woman's eyes flitted from place to place, never pausing too long in one area of the bridge.
Slowly, quietly, Ligeia raised her right arm, the one closest to the helm. She reached over to the handle on the side of the Navigator's station that released the panel.
Ligeia stretched as far as she could without making obvious her intentions. She glanced up at Tremont, saw he was still busy controlling every part of the ship, and made a small, subtle lean towards the helm. Still, the handle was centimeters out of her reach. Farther… a little more…
She lost her balance and fell over. Tremont jumped up from the station and grabbed Ligeia by the arms. He pulled her up roughly and threw her down again meters away from where she'd been before. Her stomach reeled in pain as Tremont's boot landed with force in the middle of her stomach.
Uhura took her chance. While Tremont was dealing with Ligeia's distraction, she leapt off the floor and sat down in the Navigator's seat. Furiously working the controls, she tried to undo Tremont's damage. Before she could do anything significant, he was upon her, yanking her out of the chair. Uhura's arm bumped a button as she fell, causing the ship to buck violently. They fell to the floor, Tremont crushing her with the force of his fall. Tremont pushed himself up and stabilized the ship. Once the floor leveled, he pulled a long string out of his pocket.
"I should have done this earlier, but I thought you ladies"- he said the word as if it were an insult- "deserved to keep your dignity. I now see that I was wrong." Tremont walked over to Ligeia, who had propped herself up on one arm and clutched her stomach with the other. He grabbed her supporting arm and dragged her over to Uhura's side. He carefully yet forcefully tied their hands together, then their feet. Uhura and Ligeia were completely unable to move without taking the other with them.
Just as he tied the final knot at Uhura's ankle, the communication inset at Tremont's panel beeped. "Bridge, this is Kirk. Report."
The three of them held their breath.
Tremont gazed at Uhura, then said, "Don't view this as an accomplishment, Miss Uhura. You've only succeeded in making me declare my intentions earlier than planned. It will in no way alter the fate of you or this vessel." He rose and returned to his panel. Touching a button, he said, "Bridge. Tremont here."
"Trouble on the bridge, Ensign?" Kirk asked. He sounded as if he'd just been awakened.
Malachi Tremont smiled coolly. "No sir. Everything is under my control."
The nuance escaped the drowsy captain. "What caused the turbulence a moment ago? I was in the middle of a dream."
"Everything is under my control, captain," replied the Ensign.
Kirk finally seemed to catch on. "Who's on duty tonight? Let me speak to the Duty officer."
"I've relieved Miss Ford and Miss Uhura. Now, Captain, I believe I've given you all you need to know. Goodnight." He cut the connection in the middle of Kirk's angry reply. Tremont smiled sardonically at his captives, then opened a shipwide channel.
"Good evening, fellow crewmembers, or maybe I should say good morning. This is Malachi Tremont, whom most of you know as night-watch navigator. What you don't know is that I'm also an agent in the Vivalian Liberation League. The League is dedicated to advancing the Glorious Vivalian Revolution and the establishment of a new Vivalian government where the rights of the people shall not be hindered by out-dated, repressive, and discriminatory dogma meant to suppress the Will of the People.
"I believe it was the Earthman Thomas Jefferson who wrote that government should be established by a mandate from the People. The vaunted Federation operates on the principle that all beings, humanoid or alien, male or female, black, white, or purple, are guaranteed the right to instate their own government and the right to remove that government should the needs of the People fail to be met.
"For years the League has struggled with the oppression of the Vivalian People. Our meetings have been broken up. Our buildings bombed. Our equipment sabotaged. The Vivalian 'government' used force against group of League demonstrators participating in a protest. How long must the People be suppressed? How long must we submit to a tyrannical mockery of justice? How long must we wait for our freedom?
"With this ship, the League can overthrow the tyranny that passes for government on Vivali. Carefully placed Phaser blasts can take out government installations with minimal harm to the People. The League will quickly seize control. Then, and only then, will I surrender.
"On the bridge with me, I have Lieutenant Uhura and Lieutenant Ford. They are my hostages. If there is an effort to stop this ship or reclaim control, I will kill them. That won't make for a pretty scene. So it is in your best interest to sit back and enjoy the ride."
Tremont cut the channel, then sat back in the navigator's chair, seeming pleased with himself.
Ligeia pulled at the ties on her wrist, but it merely succeeded in pulling Uhura's arms a little. The two women were stuck.