2.2: Journey to Tomorrow
Taylor didn't bother to conceal her outrage. She started forward, then drew back as Janax's phaser followed her to her feet. "What you're doing is insane. Starfleet's monitors will show that we've veered far off our approved course. They'll send a ship after us - after you."
Janax nodded, unconcerned. "The shuttle will indeed have disappeared from their monitors. That is deliberate. We have managed to obtain - at great expense to those who support our cause - a contraband cloaking device suitable for small-vessel use. Approximately twenty minutes after launch, we deployed it. Starbase controllers are no doubt attempting to interpret the irregularity even now. However, that is not our concern. When the time is right, we shall inform them of what we have done."
"Your cause? Exactly what does that mean? What are you using us to negotiate for? I think we have a right to know that much."
"We have told you all we think it prudent for you to know. Until we contact Starfleet command, we prefer to say nothing more. Now I suggest you take a seat and try to remain cooperative. The process will certainly go easier if you do."
Without taking her eyes off the phaser, Taylor retreated. "And what about Zarabeth's baby? Have you no compassion at all?"
"We confess that was not part of our plan." Janax winced. "We were misinformed as to the precise medical state of the governor's wife. However, we subsequently decided that her condition may actually improve our bargaining position. A starship captain is no small prize, but the governor's unborn child could be construed as an even more valuable one. We presume that the sympathy factor will also work in our favor."
"I don't even want to speculate on the kind of punishment that awaits you once you've been caught - and you will be, rest assured."
"That is immaterial at the moment. Our primary concern is to present our case and allow your superiors to meet our demands. Once they do, you will be released. And now I wish to have no further discussion about the matter."
Keeping the phaser trained on them, Janax half-turned to consult with Naioch privately. Every now and then, he glanced up at the two women and then looked away again. His jaw was clenched so tightly that the muscles in his lean neck pulsed slightly.
Taylor shook her head angrily. "This is my fault," she whispered. "I should have noticed something wasn't right. I'm so sorry, Zarabeth."
"There was no way you could have known." Zarabeth's fingers were white as she gripped the chair arm and leaned forward. "Are you armed?"
"It's not Starfleet policy to carry weapons on a base, and I guarantee you they searched my bag when they brought it on board. I don't suppose you had the foresight to hide a phaser rifle under that shirt you're wearing."
"I wish I'd thought of it." A long silence, heavy with abject misery on one side and barely suppressed fear on the other, stretched between them. "So what do we do now? Just wait?"
"Our best hope is to avoid panicking them. I get the feeling that these two are rank amateurs at this kind of thing."
"What makes you think that?" Zarabeth asked.
Taylor hesitated. "Well...they just don't seem very comfortable with what they're doing. It's more of an impression, really. I can't be any more specific than that."
To her relief, Zarabeth nodded without pressing for more details.
At the control panel, Naioch was keying the subspace radio. An urgent voice was crackling through the grid.
"Put it through," Janax said. "Audio only."
"This is Starfleet Sector Control. Our sensors have lost track of your craft. Please transmit your coordinates so that we may recalibrate."
"We will do no such thing," Janax replied. She spoke quickly, excitedly. "Our deviation from our plotted course was intentional. Please inform your base commander that we are holding Captain Taylor and the wife of Spock until our demands are met. You may further inform him that our terms are simple. On Danaaus there is a man, Voral, who has been unjustly sentenced to life in the Federation prison there. We demand his immediate release in exchange for the two Federation women. This shuttle has enough fuel to maintain life support and impulse power for approximately seventeen hours. If our terms are not met by then, we will shut down the engine core and detonate the craft in space. Our own deaths are of no consequence to anyone but us. However, it is your choice if your two Federation citizens die with us. We will contact you again in thirty minutes. See that you have the proper authorities available."
At her signal, Naioch cut off the transmission.
. . . . .
"To tell you the truth, I was afraid something like this might happen." Lucas Hawkes, the Embassy's security chief had arrived at Spock's home accompanied by two muscular security men, but he had entered the study alone. Now he paced in front of the enormous desk, his gaunt face tight with anger. "These Danaans may look peaceful, but they can be savages under the skin. Governor Jennings might have seemed strict to an outsider, but no one can deny that he kept them in line. No offense, but they probably think you won't be able to maintain his standards, so they've decided to test you."
"In regards to Governor Jennings, I understand that Starfleet is attempting to locate him now, but their attempts have been unsuccessful. Have you any idea where he might have gone?"
"None. I respected the man, but we never considered ourselves friends. I know that he kept his own craft, and that he planned to make use of it as soon as he retired. My guess is that he made good on that promise to himself, and he's off somewhere enjoying his free time. He'd have no way of knowing what's happened."
"That is one possible explanation."
"Are you suggesting that these ruffians have kidnapped him, too?" Hawkes' scowl deepened. "I've seen no evidence of that - but I suppose you're right to consider it until we know otherwise. I'll ask around, see if I can find out anything. And if I might make one other suggestion?"
"Of course."
"I think our first order of business should be making sure the hostages really are alive. It would be just like these cowards to shoot first and make demands later." Suddenly his face softened. "I'm sorry, sir. I realize that one of them is your wife. Besides, the fact that they're both women might work to their advantage. They might seem less of a threat. Hell, that might have been part of the plan all along."
"No apology is required. Fortunately, my wife is not easily intimidated, and Captain Taylor is both resourceful and cautious. It seems probable that they have managed to remain alive. In any case Starfleet will certainly demand visual proof of their condition before proceeding."
"You're taking this well, sir, and I admire that. Me, I'd be outraged. In fact, I am outraged. I thought we'd solved this Voral problem eight years ago."
"Explain."
"He's the worst of them, sir: an anarchist, an agitator, and a would-be murderer who's done everything in his power to hold this community back from the real progress the Federation has offered. When Governor Jennings first came to this colony twenty-five years ago, they lived in a stagnant cultural swamp. Luckily, their leader-Voral's father-saw the benefit of allowing the colony to be established here. He yielded his authority readily. The Danaans were perfectly content to accept that until Voral began his campaign of terror. It was just a matter of time before someone got hurt, and finally they did, right here on the grounds of this house. I won't waste your time with the details, but that incident gave me enough evidence to rid this colony of that scourge once and for all. I personally brought about his arrest and saw to it that he was put where he belongs - and where I can keep an eye on him - for life."
Fingers steepled, Spock considered this information. "It appears that the most rational course of action would be for me to apprise myself of the specifics of Voral's case. I will access his records while you continue the search for Governor Jennings."
"With all due respect, I don't think that would be the best use of our very limited time. I have a better idea. Let me round up some of Voral's allies who are still moving around freely. I know who they are, for the most part, and I can find the names of the rest soon enough. Then we can force these ragtag pirates to renegotiate for their own people. Put them on the defensive."
"I fail to see how that would protect the occupants of the shuttle."
"I can see that it's risky, but it might buy us enough time for Starfleet to crack the cloaking device. Once we pinpoint their coordinates, we can disable them somehow, retake the shuttle by force."
Spock folded his hands. "I am not in favor of such a move. "
"Listen, it's no secret around the Embassy that you're only here temporarily, so you can train as an Ambassador here. But take it from someone who knows these people: in this case you need to think less like a diplomat and more like a starship captain. These people are not interested in arbitration. They're out for blood, and I think we should be prepared to spill theirs first if it comes to that."
"Very well; I have noted your position on the matter and will take it into account." Spock rose with an obvious air of dismissal. "I will contact you again as needed. In the meantime, you have your assignment."
Hawkes didn't bother to keep the frustration, or a touch of sarcasm, from his voice. "I understand, sir. I'll be in touch."
Alone again, Spock paced the study in thought, his gaze drifting idly over the tapestries again. When he came to the window, he paused for a long moment. Finally, he summoned the housekeeper.
"Mrs. Aathis, this morning I saw a woman in the garden. She was young, a Danaan. Have you any idea who she might have been?"
His inquiry met with a look of incredulity that seemed to border on outright suspicion. "Impossible. There is no outside entry to the garden room, and no one has entered the house without authorization - certainly no strange women. I don't mean any disrespect, sir, but considering everything that's happened this morning, perhaps the governor is imagining things."
"I am not given to hallucinations, stress-induced or otherwise. It is my belief that the intruder was beamed inside the walled area, then quickly removed by the same means. I wish to ascertain her identity, not the fact of her existence."
"I'm very sorry, but I don't see how I can help with that. The description could apply to almost anyone from the village."
"It is possible that Governor Jennings would know. Starfleet has been unable to reach him since he left the colony a week ago. Perhaps you have some idea of his whereabouts, or at least his general destination?"
"No. He never confided in me, and as I'm sure you've noticed by now, it isn't my way to pry. All I know is that after he retired, he wanted to get as far from here as quickly as he could. He'd been preparing that old glider of his for years. He tended to it almost like it was his chi - well, something he treasured, anyhow."
"Very well. You may go."
She was lying, he decided, or at the very least willfully deluding herself.
When he looked back out at the garden, he saw no further sign of the woman. But, he noted, the shadows had changed.
Inevitably, almost imperceptibly, time had started to run out.
. . . . .
"Something is blocking our transmissions." Janax hissed a few curse words in her native tongue while the subspace radio sputtered and crackled.
Pushing his way in front of her, Naioch seized the controls and twisted them impatiently. "Try again," he urged.
From the back of the craft, Taylor and Zarabeth watched in nervous silence.
"I know what Starfleet's doing," Taylor whispered. "It's a strategy I learned in my tactical training courses. Base command is stalling for time, trying to make them anxious and eager to talk. I don't think it's a good idea in this case. Like I said before, we're dealing with amateurs."
"I can't believe we could come this far, only to lose it all like this." Zarabeth shook her head bitterly.
"We haven't lost anything yet - except maybe some travel time and our peace of mind. But those are both temporary situations. We'll think of something."
"I can't imagine what. You're outnumbered, and I'm in no condition to run very far. Not that we have any place to go."
"Let's just try to stay calm, and observe what we can. There's always a way out. We'll find it."
"We've made contact," Janax announced. "The Federation wants proof that the two of you are alive and unharmed. They will hail us again in twenty minutes, when we will provide what they have asked for. Nothing more."
"I still want to know exactly why you're doing this," Taylor demanded. "Why is this Voral's freedom more important than all our lives?"
"We have already told you all we intend to. The specifics are not your concern."
"I think they are. After all, I'm a starship captain. Starfleet may ask me to participate in the negotiations, and I'll need as much information as I can get to do that effectively."
The two Danaans looked at each other. "This is true, Janax," Naioch said cautiously. "We might need their cooperation later."
"I doubt Starfleet will even consider dealing with you unless I can participate," Taylor pressed. Despite their attempts at verbal bravado, she noticed that they were literally beginning to squirm in their seats. "So come on. Tell us everything about Voral."
Their captors conferred for a few minutes, their heads bent together. Finally, Janax looked up at them, though the phaser still rested, muzzle pointed outward, on the arm of her chair.
"Very well - we believe there can be no shame in speaking the truth. Voral is a man who has been wrongly imprisoned. He is completely innocent of all he has been accused of. Yes, he spoke his mind, and yes, he still opposes the Federation's goal of exploiting our planet. However, he acted only within his rights as a free citizen of Danaaus. He was punished for his beliefs, not his acts, which is in direct conflict with everything the Federation claims to stand for."
"And this supposedly harmless man has followers who are prepared to kidnap and kill on his behalf?"
"We are more than simply his followers. I am his wife, though our marriage could not be recognized by the Federation. We had to speak our vows in secret, or I would likely be arrested, too. Naioch is Voral's half-brother. Again, he is allowed to reveal this connection to no one. It is the only way for us to remain safe."
"Why does Voral oppose Federation rule in your colony?"
"Twenty-five years ago, Voral's father led the Danaans. That ended with the establishment of a Federation governor. Though some were unhappy with the change even then, the majority seemed to favor this change over our traditional ways. Voral was a very young man then, little more than a boy, really. He was willing to go along with it, as was his father. As the years went by, and he saw how his people were being mistreated, he felt he could no longer keep still. It is his wish that the Danaans become self-governing again. Unlike Governor Jennings, he seeks no power for himself, but for those who have been disenfranchised."
"But what other purpose would a change like that serve? The colony is prospering. It has been for years."
"Of course it is, by Federation standards. From our perspective things are less clear. Even since he arrived on our world, your governor has taken exactly what he wanted from us: our goods, our money, even our women. He even designed a special bedroom facing the garden so his chosen favorite could come to him, unseen, in the night. He assumed no one would believe her story once daylight came. He was wrong about that. Voral believed her. So do we."
"I can assure you, that particular practice will not continue," Zarabeth said dryly.
"Perhaps you are right, but in a sense, Governor Jennings' dalliances were the least of his crimes. Our colony was stripped of its culture, its resources, its dignity."
"That's nonsense," Taylor retorted. "Your colony has been visited and inspected numerous times. No one has ever reported any wrongdoing."
"Your Federation inspectors see what they want to see. A thriving colony delighted with its leadership. Who would ever suspect that they kept silent out of fear? Who would know what to look for unless it was suggested? And anyone with the ability to make such a suggestion was kept quiet, sometimes forever. The colony's prison is filled with those who dared to speak their minds. And life there is a torment for my husband. He is allowed no visitors and can receive only one letter per month, to which he is not permitted to reply. Luckily we have spies to tell me that he is managing as best he can. Otherwise, I myself would have gone mad with worry long ago."
Her voice had begun to shake. Naioch rested his hand on her arm. "Janax, enough. Do not reveal too many of our secrets. They may pretend to understand, but it might only be a trick."
"It seems to me you're not giving the Federation much of a chance. After all, however bad he was, Jennings is gone. What makes you think Spock and Zarabeth would have treated you the same way?"
"The point is that we don't want a governor at all," Naioch retorted. "We wish to rule ourselves again, as we were meant to. Now that's enough. Prepare yourselves to be seen on the monitor. Starfleet wants proof you're alive. When I give the signal, we will transmit your image onscreen for thirty seconds. Do not attempt to say anything or I will terminate the transmission. Remember, Captain, you are in no position to make demands."
"Naioch is right." Janax had recovered herself. "It's time."
. . . . .
By the time Spock reached his office at the Embassy, escorted by four guards, Hawkes was already with the newly arrived, and surprisingly youthful, Starfleet envoy.
"We have news, sir," the younger man jumped to his feet. "Your wife and Captain Taylor are alive. Visual contact has just been confirmed."
"Request that we speak with them."
"I don't think we can do that. However, they do appear to be unharmed and reasonably mentally sound."
"If I may restate my position," Hawkes began, but Spock cut him off.
"That is unnecessary. However, I do have an inquiry to make of you. You may explain why the majority of Voral's judicial records are no longer in the database. I have been unable to gain access to certain documents I deem pertinent." "There's a very simple explanation for that. Governor Jennings was in the habit of archiving his records every three years. Voral's case went to trial almost a decade ago. There was no need to keep those files with the current ones."
"In that case, I wish to know where I might find them."
"And I still say that's an unwise use of our time, but you don't have to take just my word for it. You might want to hear what the Lieutenant Commander, here, has to say before you go sifting through a guilty man's trial transcripts."
"Very well." Spock turned to the envoy, who cleared his throat apprehensively. "What have you to add to this discussion?"
"Well...only this. As you are aware from your days in Starfleet, it is not Federation policy to interfere in colonial disputes, or to...or to bargain with militants. Therefore, as deeply as we sympathize with your difficulties, Governor, we regret that we cannot enter directly into any such negotiations. We can offer assistance with mediation, of course, and we are prepared to deliver an ultimatum that the shuttle pilots surrender control of the vessel to Captain Taylor immediately. Beyond that...I'm afraid you're on your own."
The three men stood motionless for a long moment, each of them watching the other two intently. Finally, Spock nodded.
"You may inform Starfleet that I understand and accept their position, and that it remains my intention to bring this matter to a satisfactory conclusion. Chief Hawkes, see that all files relating to the prisoner in question are brought to me at once. And when you have accomplished that, please continue your search for Governor Jennings. In the meantime, I shall request a personal communication with the shuttle. You are both excused."
Grunting, Hawkes started for the door. Just before he stepped into the hall, the envoy following hastily, he paused. "Actually, I hope they do patch you through, Governor. Any man deserves the chance to say goodbye to his wife. It's a memory you'll have to live with for a very long time."
"The files, please," Spock repeated, stone-faced. "Quickly."
. . . . .
"Do you think we'll hear something soon?" Zarabeth asked warily. "Someone must have talked to Spock by now."
"I'm sure they have, and he's doing what he can."
"I know it's going to take a few more hours, at least. But I wish they'd give us some kind of progress report."
Sighing, Taylor propped her head in both hands. "Zarabeth," she said after a while, "please don't think I'm saying this because I want to upset you. Believe me, that's the last thing I want, but on the other hand I think I ought to be honest."
Zarabeth frowned. "Go on."
"It's just that this little deal Janax and Naioch have planned won't go as smoothly as they think. You see, Starfleet has a policy not to negotiate with terrorists. Otherwise, every Federation colony in the entire sector would go through this same situation a hundred times a year. That's why I said before that I thought they were amateurs. Anyone with even a minimal understanding of Federation politics would know that."
Taylor felt her own heart sink as she watched Zarabeth's face go two shades paler in the space of ten seconds or less.
"It's almost funny - only a year ago, I begged every night for death to come and claim me. When I started feeling ill all the time, I thought maybe I would finally get what I longed for." Zarabeth's arms circled her swollen middle as if that simple act could protect the child. "Then it all turned into something entirely different. What I thought was the onset of death was really the opposite. Now, more than anything, I want to live."
"You will. What you just told me is proof that no outcome is ever guaranteed, however hopeless things look. I gave my word that I would deliver you safely to Danaaus III, and I intend to fulfill that obligation. In fact, I think I have an idea. Will you trust me? Here, just follow my lead." She waited a few moments, then jumped to her feet. "Janax," she called, "we have a problem over here. I think the baby is coming."
Janax spun around at the helm, her expression a mixture of astonishment and mistrust. "Nonsense. It's a trick."
"Oh? See for yourself, then. It's all the stress you've put the poor woman under. No one in her condition can take that for very long. If you knew anything at all about humanoid physiology, you'd know that it can very easily cause premature labor."
Naioch was out of his seat now, craning his head toward the rear of the shuttle as if he feared that Zarabeth's condition was somehow contagious. "It's true, Janax. The Governor's wife does not look well at all."
Janax got to her feet, as well. Just for a moment, the phaser seemed to tremble in her hand. "Captain Taylor, we are aware that you spent many years as a Starfleet science officer. You can take care of this."
"You must be mad! I trained as a stellar geologist, not a medic. I know basic first aid, but that's about all."
"Then that will have to do."
"Can't you at least see for yourself? Or are you afraid to admit just how much harm your actions have caused?"
Her delicate features twisted in a scowl, Janax pushed past Naioch, who stood transfixed - and, as far as Taylor could discern, unarmed.
In less than a second, she'd gauged the distance between her and Janax, raised both hands to her sides, then lunged for the phaser. The moment she did, Janax stepped back and fired. With a shriek of pain, Taylor went down hard, her right sleeve trailing smoke. The frightening odor of smoldering flesh filled the tightly enclosed space.
Moaning, Taylor dragged herself back to Zarabeth, who clung to her in terror.
"It's all right," she managed to gasp. "I'm not mortally wounded - just burned."
Janax moved to stand directly over the two of them, drawing the phaser up to her chest with the muzzle pointed upward. "I am sorry I had to do that, Captain, but Naioch and I did warn you. I will fetch the emergency medical kit."
Opening a panel to her left, she removed a small container and tossed it to the floor beside Zarabeth.
"She's letting you patch me up just in time to blow us all to hell," Taylor hissed, clutching her burned arm in agony. "How considerate. Zarabeth, I'm sorry. I thought I could do it. I just wasn't fast enough. Here, let me help with the bandage."
While they fumbled with the medical supplies, the subspace radio began to crackle again. Janax donned the headset to listen privately to the message. Her wary gaze remained focused on her captives. Eventually she returned to the rear of the craft and examined Taylor's bloodstained bandage.
"Your husband wishes to speak with you in an hour," she informed Zarabeth coolly. "I am inclined to agree, but only if there are no further outbursts. I trust that both of you understand that."
They huddled together, saying nothing, until Janax snorted and moved away.
"That's strange," Taylor mused, grimacing with the effort it took to keep her voice low and steady. "They wouldn't let us speak to anyone before. Either they're weakening, or there's been some development back home that we don't know about."
With some effort, she turned over so she could look at Zarabeth. Instantly she saw that something was horribly wrong.
"Michaela...I didn't want to say anything before, but I wasn't just pretending about the baby. I've been in terrible pain for about an hour now. I think he really is coming."
Given all that had happened within the past four hours, Taylor could think of only one appropriate response. She cursed long, hard, and colorfully.
. . . . .
to be continued
Taylor didn't bother to conceal her outrage. She started forward, then drew back as Janax's phaser followed her to her feet. "What you're doing is insane. Starfleet's monitors will show that we've veered far off our approved course. They'll send a ship after us - after you."
Janax nodded, unconcerned. "The shuttle will indeed have disappeared from their monitors. That is deliberate. We have managed to obtain - at great expense to those who support our cause - a contraband cloaking device suitable for small-vessel use. Approximately twenty minutes after launch, we deployed it. Starbase controllers are no doubt attempting to interpret the irregularity even now. However, that is not our concern. When the time is right, we shall inform them of what we have done."
"Your cause? Exactly what does that mean? What are you using us to negotiate for? I think we have a right to know that much."
"We have told you all we think it prudent for you to know. Until we contact Starfleet command, we prefer to say nothing more. Now I suggest you take a seat and try to remain cooperative. The process will certainly go easier if you do."
Without taking her eyes off the phaser, Taylor retreated. "And what about Zarabeth's baby? Have you no compassion at all?"
"We confess that was not part of our plan." Janax winced. "We were misinformed as to the precise medical state of the governor's wife. However, we subsequently decided that her condition may actually improve our bargaining position. A starship captain is no small prize, but the governor's unborn child could be construed as an even more valuable one. We presume that the sympathy factor will also work in our favor."
"I don't even want to speculate on the kind of punishment that awaits you once you've been caught - and you will be, rest assured."
"That is immaterial at the moment. Our primary concern is to present our case and allow your superiors to meet our demands. Once they do, you will be released. And now I wish to have no further discussion about the matter."
Keeping the phaser trained on them, Janax half-turned to consult with Naioch privately. Every now and then, he glanced up at the two women and then looked away again. His jaw was clenched so tightly that the muscles in his lean neck pulsed slightly.
Taylor shook her head angrily. "This is my fault," she whispered. "I should have noticed something wasn't right. I'm so sorry, Zarabeth."
"There was no way you could have known." Zarabeth's fingers were white as she gripped the chair arm and leaned forward. "Are you armed?"
"It's not Starfleet policy to carry weapons on a base, and I guarantee you they searched my bag when they brought it on board. I don't suppose you had the foresight to hide a phaser rifle under that shirt you're wearing."
"I wish I'd thought of it." A long silence, heavy with abject misery on one side and barely suppressed fear on the other, stretched between them. "So what do we do now? Just wait?"
"Our best hope is to avoid panicking them. I get the feeling that these two are rank amateurs at this kind of thing."
"What makes you think that?" Zarabeth asked.
Taylor hesitated. "Well...they just don't seem very comfortable with what they're doing. It's more of an impression, really. I can't be any more specific than that."
To her relief, Zarabeth nodded without pressing for more details.
At the control panel, Naioch was keying the subspace radio. An urgent voice was crackling through the grid.
"Put it through," Janax said. "Audio only."
"This is Starfleet Sector Control. Our sensors have lost track of your craft. Please transmit your coordinates so that we may recalibrate."
"We will do no such thing," Janax replied. She spoke quickly, excitedly. "Our deviation from our plotted course was intentional. Please inform your base commander that we are holding Captain Taylor and the wife of Spock until our demands are met. You may further inform him that our terms are simple. On Danaaus there is a man, Voral, who has been unjustly sentenced to life in the Federation prison there. We demand his immediate release in exchange for the two Federation women. This shuttle has enough fuel to maintain life support and impulse power for approximately seventeen hours. If our terms are not met by then, we will shut down the engine core and detonate the craft in space. Our own deaths are of no consequence to anyone but us. However, it is your choice if your two Federation citizens die with us. We will contact you again in thirty minutes. See that you have the proper authorities available."
At her signal, Naioch cut off the transmission.
. . . . .
"To tell you the truth, I was afraid something like this might happen." Lucas Hawkes, the Embassy's security chief had arrived at Spock's home accompanied by two muscular security men, but he had entered the study alone. Now he paced in front of the enormous desk, his gaunt face tight with anger. "These Danaans may look peaceful, but they can be savages under the skin. Governor Jennings might have seemed strict to an outsider, but no one can deny that he kept them in line. No offense, but they probably think you won't be able to maintain his standards, so they've decided to test you."
"In regards to Governor Jennings, I understand that Starfleet is attempting to locate him now, but their attempts have been unsuccessful. Have you any idea where he might have gone?"
"None. I respected the man, but we never considered ourselves friends. I know that he kept his own craft, and that he planned to make use of it as soon as he retired. My guess is that he made good on that promise to himself, and he's off somewhere enjoying his free time. He'd have no way of knowing what's happened."
"That is one possible explanation."
"Are you suggesting that these ruffians have kidnapped him, too?" Hawkes' scowl deepened. "I've seen no evidence of that - but I suppose you're right to consider it until we know otherwise. I'll ask around, see if I can find out anything. And if I might make one other suggestion?"
"Of course."
"I think our first order of business should be making sure the hostages really are alive. It would be just like these cowards to shoot first and make demands later." Suddenly his face softened. "I'm sorry, sir. I realize that one of them is your wife. Besides, the fact that they're both women might work to their advantage. They might seem less of a threat. Hell, that might have been part of the plan all along."
"No apology is required. Fortunately, my wife is not easily intimidated, and Captain Taylor is both resourceful and cautious. It seems probable that they have managed to remain alive. In any case Starfleet will certainly demand visual proof of their condition before proceeding."
"You're taking this well, sir, and I admire that. Me, I'd be outraged. In fact, I am outraged. I thought we'd solved this Voral problem eight years ago."
"Explain."
"He's the worst of them, sir: an anarchist, an agitator, and a would-be murderer who's done everything in his power to hold this community back from the real progress the Federation has offered. When Governor Jennings first came to this colony twenty-five years ago, they lived in a stagnant cultural swamp. Luckily, their leader-Voral's father-saw the benefit of allowing the colony to be established here. He yielded his authority readily. The Danaans were perfectly content to accept that until Voral began his campaign of terror. It was just a matter of time before someone got hurt, and finally they did, right here on the grounds of this house. I won't waste your time with the details, but that incident gave me enough evidence to rid this colony of that scourge once and for all. I personally brought about his arrest and saw to it that he was put where he belongs - and where I can keep an eye on him - for life."
Fingers steepled, Spock considered this information. "It appears that the most rational course of action would be for me to apprise myself of the specifics of Voral's case. I will access his records while you continue the search for Governor Jennings."
"With all due respect, I don't think that would be the best use of our very limited time. I have a better idea. Let me round up some of Voral's allies who are still moving around freely. I know who they are, for the most part, and I can find the names of the rest soon enough. Then we can force these ragtag pirates to renegotiate for their own people. Put them on the defensive."
"I fail to see how that would protect the occupants of the shuttle."
"I can see that it's risky, but it might buy us enough time for Starfleet to crack the cloaking device. Once we pinpoint their coordinates, we can disable them somehow, retake the shuttle by force."
Spock folded his hands. "I am not in favor of such a move. "
"Listen, it's no secret around the Embassy that you're only here temporarily, so you can train as an Ambassador here. But take it from someone who knows these people: in this case you need to think less like a diplomat and more like a starship captain. These people are not interested in arbitration. They're out for blood, and I think we should be prepared to spill theirs first if it comes to that."
"Very well; I have noted your position on the matter and will take it into account." Spock rose with an obvious air of dismissal. "I will contact you again as needed. In the meantime, you have your assignment."
Hawkes didn't bother to keep the frustration, or a touch of sarcasm, from his voice. "I understand, sir. I'll be in touch."
Alone again, Spock paced the study in thought, his gaze drifting idly over the tapestries again. When he came to the window, he paused for a long moment. Finally, he summoned the housekeeper.
"Mrs. Aathis, this morning I saw a woman in the garden. She was young, a Danaan. Have you any idea who she might have been?"
His inquiry met with a look of incredulity that seemed to border on outright suspicion. "Impossible. There is no outside entry to the garden room, and no one has entered the house without authorization - certainly no strange women. I don't mean any disrespect, sir, but considering everything that's happened this morning, perhaps the governor is imagining things."
"I am not given to hallucinations, stress-induced or otherwise. It is my belief that the intruder was beamed inside the walled area, then quickly removed by the same means. I wish to ascertain her identity, not the fact of her existence."
"I'm very sorry, but I don't see how I can help with that. The description could apply to almost anyone from the village."
"It is possible that Governor Jennings would know. Starfleet has been unable to reach him since he left the colony a week ago. Perhaps you have some idea of his whereabouts, or at least his general destination?"
"No. He never confided in me, and as I'm sure you've noticed by now, it isn't my way to pry. All I know is that after he retired, he wanted to get as far from here as quickly as he could. He'd been preparing that old glider of his for years. He tended to it almost like it was his chi - well, something he treasured, anyhow."
"Very well. You may go."
She was lying, he decided, or at the very least willfully deluding herself.
When he looked back out at the garden, he saw no further sign of the woman. But, he noted, the shadows had changed.
Inevitably, almost imperceptibly, time had started to run out.
. . . . .
"Something is blocking our transmissions." Janax hissed a few curse words in her native tongue while the subspace radio sputtered and crackled.
Pushing his way in front of her, Naioch seized the controls and twisted them impatiently. "Try again," he urged.
From the back of the craft, Taylor and Zarabeth watched in nervous silence.
"I know what Starfleet's doing," Taylor whispered. "It's a strategy I learned in my tactical training courses. Base command is stalling for time, trying to make them anxious and eager to talk. I don't think it's a good idea in this case. Like I said before, we're dealing with amateurs."
"I can't believe we could come this far, only to lose it all like this." Zarabeth shook her head bitterly.
"We haven't lost anything yet - except maybe some travel time and our peace of mind. But those are both temporary situations. We'll think of something."
"I can't imagine what. You're outnumbered, and I'm in no condition to run very far. Not that we have any place to go."
"Let's just try to stay calm, and observe what we can. There's always a way out. We'll find it."
"We've made contact," Janax announced. "The Federation wants proof that the two of you are alive and unharmed. They will hail us again in twenty minutes, when we will provide what they have asked for. Nothing more."
"I still want to know exactly why you're doing this," Taylor demanded. "Why is this Voral's freedom more important than all our lives?"
"We have already told you all we intend to. The specifics are not your concern."
"I think they are. After all, I'm a starship captain. Starfleet may ask me to participate in the negotiations, and I'll need as much information as I can get to do that effectively."
The two Danaans looked at each other. "This is true, Janax," Naioch said cautiously. "We might need their cooperation later."
"I doubt Starfleet will even consider dealing with you unless I can participate," Taylor pressed. Despite their attempts at verbal bravado, she noticed that they were literally beginning to squirm in their seats. "So come on. Tell us everything about Voral."
Their captors conferred for a few minutes, their heads bent together. Finally, Janax looked up at them, though the phaser still rested, muzzle pointed outward, on the arm of her chair.
"Very well - we believe there can be no shame in speaking the truth. Voral is a man who has been wrongly imprisoned. He is completely innocent of all he has been accused of. Yes, he spoke his mind, and yes, he still opposes the Federation's goal of exploiting our planet. However, he acted only within his rights as a free citizen of Danaaus. He was punished for his beliefs, not his acts, which is in direct conflict with everything the Federation claims to stand for."
"And this supposedly harmless man has followers who are prepared to kidnap and kill on his behalf?"
"We are more than simply his followers. I am his wife, though our marriage could not be recognized by the Federation. We had to speak our vows in secret, or I would likely be arrested, too. Naioch is Voral's half-brother. Again, he is allowed to reveal this connection to no one. It is the only way for us to remain safe."
"Why does Voral oppose Federation rule in your colony?"
"Twenty-five years ago, Voral's father led the Danaans. That ended with the establishment of a Federation governor. Though some were unhappy with the change even then, the majority seemed to favor this change over our traditional ways. Voral was a very young man then, little more than a boy, really. He was willing to go along with it, as was his father. As the years went by, and he saw how his people were being mistreated, he felt he could no longer keep still. It is his wish that the Danaans become self-governing again. Unlike Governor Jennings, he seeks no power for himself, but for those who have been disenfranchised."
"But what other purpose would a change like that serve? The colony is prospering. It has been for years."
"Of course it is, by Federation standards. From our perspective things are less clear. Even since he arrived on our world, your governor has taken exactly what he wanted from us: our goods, our money, even our women. He even designed a special bedroom facing the garden so his chosen favorite could come to him, unseen, in the night. He assumed no one would believe her story once daylight came. He was wrong about that. Voral believed her. So do we."
"I can assure you, that particular practice will not continue," Zarabeth said dryly.
"Perhaps you are right, but in a sense, Governor Jennings' dalliances were the least of his crimes. Our colony was stripped of its culture, its resources, its dignity."
"That's nonsense," Taylor retorted. "Your colony has been visited and inspected numerous times. No one has ever reported any wrongdoing."
"Your Federation inspectors see what they want to see. A thriving colony delighted with its leadership. Who would ever suspect that they kept silent out of fear? Who would know what to look for unless it was suggested? And anyone with the ability to make such a suggestion was kept quiet, sometimes forever. The colony's prison is filled with those who dared to speak their minds. And life there is a torment for my husband. He is allowed no visitors and can receive only one letter per month, to which he is not permitted to reply. Luckily we have spies to tell me that he is managing as best he can. Otherwise, I myself would have gone mad with worry long ago."
Her voice had begun to shake. Naioch rested his hand on her arm. "Janax, enough. Do not reveal too many of our secrets. They may pretend to understand, but it might only be a trick."
"It seems to me you're not giving the Federation much of a chance. After all, however bad he was, Jennings is gone. What makes you think Spock and Zarabeth would have treated you the same way?"
"The point is that we don't want a governor at all," Naioch retorted. "We wish to rule ourselves again, as we were meant to. Now that's enough. Prepare yourselves to be seen on the monitor. Starfleet wants proof you're alive. When I give the signal, we will transmit your image onscreen for thirty seconds. Do not attempt to say anything or I will terminate the transmission. Remember, Captain, you are in no position to make demands."
"Naioch is right." Janax had recovered herself. "It's time."
. . . . .
By the time Spock reached his office at the Embassy, escorted by four guards, Hawkes was already with the newly arrived, and surprisingly youthful, Starfleet envoy.
"We have news, sir," the younger man jumped to his feet. "Your wife and Captain Taylor are alive. Visual contact has just been confirmed."
"Request that we speak with them."
"I don't think we can do that. However, they do appear to be unharmed and reasonably mentally sound."
"If I may restate my position," Hawkes began, but Spock cut him off.
"That is unnecessary. However, I do have an inquiry to make of you. You may explain why the majority of Voral's judicial records are no longer in the database. I have been unable to gain access to certain documents I deem pertinent." "There's a very simple explanation for that. Governor Jennings was in the habit of archiving his records every three years. Voral's case went to trial almost a decade ago. There was no need to keep those files with the current ones."
"In that case, I wish to know where I might find them."
"And I still say that's an unwise use of our time, but you don't have to take just my word for it. You might want to hear what the Lieutenant Commander, here, has to say before you go sifting through a guilty man's trial transcripts."
"Very well." Spock turned to the envoy, who cleared his throat apprehensively. "What have you to add to this discussion?"
"Well...only this. As you are aware from your days in Starfleet, it is not Federation policy to interfere in colonial disputes, or to...or to bargain with militants. Therefore, as deeply as we sympathize with your difficulties, Governor, we regret that we cannot enter directly into any such negotiations. We can offer assistance with mediation, of course, and we are prepared to deliver an ultimatum that the shuttle pilots surrender control of the vessel to Captain Taylor immediately. Beyond that...I'm afraid you're on your own."
The three men stood motionless for a long moment, each of them watching the other two intently. Finally, Spock nodded.
"You may inform Starfleet that I understand and accept their position, and that it remains my intention to bring this matter to a satisfactory conclusion. Chief Hawkes, see that all files relating to the prisoner in question are brought to me at once. And when you have accomplished that, please continue your search for Governor Jennings. In the meantime, I shall request a personal communication with the shuttle. You are both excused."
Grunting, Hawkes started for the door. Just before he stepped into the hall, the envoy following hastily, he paused. "Actually, I hope they do patch you through, Governor. Any man deserves the chance to say goodbye to his wife. It's a memory you'll have to live with for a very long time."
"The files, please," Spock repeated, stone-faced. "Quickly."
. . . . .
"Do you think we'll hear something soon?" Zarabeth asked warily. "Someone must have talked to Spock by now."
"I'm sure they have, and he's doing what he can."
"I know it's going to take a few more hours, at least. But I wish they'd give us some kind of progress report."
Sighing, Taylor propped her head in both hands. "Zarabeth," she said after a while, "please don't think I'm saying this because I want to upset you. Believe me, that's the last thing I want, but on the other hand I think I ought to be honest."
Zarabeth frowned. "Go on."
"It's just that this little deal Janax and Naioch have planned won't go as smoothly as they think. You see, Starfleet has a policy not to negotiate with terrorists. Otherwise, every Federation colony in the entire sector would go through this same situation a hundred times a year. That's why I said before that I thought they were amateurs. Anyone with even a minimal understanding of Federation politics would know that."
Taylor felt her own heart sink as she watched Zarabeth's face go two shades paler in the space of ten seconds or less.
"It's almost funny - only a year ago, I begged every night for death to come and claim me. When I started feeling ill all the time, I thought maybe I would finally get what I longed for." Zarabeth's arms circled her swollen middle as if that simple act could protect the child. "Then it all turned into something entirely different. What I thought was the onset of death was really the opposite. Now, more than anything, I want to live."
"You will. What you just told me is proof that no outcome is ever guaranteed, however hopeless things look. I gave my word that I would deliver you safely to Danaaus III, and I intend to fulfill that obligation. In fact, I think I have an idea. Will you trust me? Here, just follow my lead." She waited a few moments, then jumped to her feet. "Janax," she called, "we have a problem over here. I think the baby is coming."
Janax spun around at the helm, her expression a mixture of astonishment and mistrust. "Nonsense. It's a trick."
"Oh? See for yourself, then. It's all the stress you've put the poor woman under. No one in her condition can take that for very long. If you knew anything at all about humanoid physiology, you'd know that it can very easily cause premature labor."
Naioch was out of his seat now, craning his head toward the rear of the shuttle as if he feared that Zarabeth's condition was somehow contagious. "It's true, Janax. The Governor's wife does not look well at all."
Janax got to her feet, as well. Just for a moment, the phaser seemed to tremble in her hand. "Captain Taylor, we are aware that you spent many years as a Starfleet science officer. You can take care of this."
"You must be mad! I trained as a stellar geologist, not a medic. I know basic first aid, but that's about all."
"Then that will have to do."
"Can't you at least see for yourself? Or are you afraid to admit just how much harm your actions have caused?"
Her delicate features twisted in a scowl, Janax pushed past Naioch, who stood transfixed - and, as far as Taylor could discern, unarmed.
In less than a second, she'd gauged the distance between her and Janax, raised both hands to her sides, then lunged for the phaser. The moment she did, Janax stepped back and fired. With a shriek of pain, Taylor went down hard, her right sleeve trailing smoke. The frightening odor of smoldering flesh filled the tightly enclosed space.
Moaning, Taylor dragged herself back to Zarabeth, who clung to her in terror.
"It's all right," she managed to gasp. "I'm not mortally wounded - just burned."
Janax moved to stand directly over the two of them, drawing the phaser up to her chest with the muzzle pointed upward. "I am sorry I had to do that, Captain, but Naioch and I did warn you. I will fetch the emergency medical kit."
Opening a panel to her left, she removed a small container and tossed it to the floor beside Zarabeth.
"She's letting you patch me up just in time to blow us all to hell," Taylor hissed, clutching her burned arm in agony. "How considerate. Zarabeth, I'm sorry. I thought I could do it. I just wasn't fast enough. Here, let me help with the bandage."
While they fumbled with the medical supplies, the subspace radio began to crackle again. Janax donned the headset to listen privately to the message. Her wary gaze remained focused on her captives. Eventually she returned to the rear of the craft and examined Taylor's bloodstained bandage.
"Your husband wishes to speak with you in an hour," she informed Zarabeth coolly. "I am inclined to agree, but only if there are no further outbursts. I trust that both of you understand that."
They huddled together, saying nothing, until Janax snorted and moved away.
"That's strange," Taylor mused, grimacing with the effort it took to keep her voice low and steady. "They wouldn't let us speak to anyone before. Either they're weakening, or there's been some development back home that we don't know about."
With some effort, she turned over so she could look at Zarabeth. Instantly she saw that something was horribly wrong.
"Michaela...I didn't want to say anything before, but I wasn't just pretending about the baby. I've been in terrible pain for about an hour now. I think he really is coming."
Given all that had happened within the past four hours, Taylor could think of only one appropriate response. She cursed long, hard, and colorfully.
. . . . .
to be continued