Summary; expansion on my oneshot, xenophobia, where Mr. Spock is transferred temporarily under a xenophobic Captain Granby and can not communicate with Starfleet or Enterprise.
A/N: Does anyone know of any stories like this? If so, please tell me - I'd like to read one as well, but I couldn't find one, so I just had to write it instead. :) Hope you like it.
Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek, characters, etc. I make no money off this.
Warnings: Language, violence, angst.
Seventh Day
The Defiant had come across an inhabited planet while charting the new area. In it was a pre-warp civilization, equivalent to the Earth middle-ages. The inhabitants were similar to humans with random blue patches of skin. They were internally completely different, but outwardly similar. Ganby had decided that a landing party would study the civilization for the day as they finished their scans on the system.
Spock's experience told him that having the ship leave orbit with crew on a planet, however briefly, was generally a bad idea. He said as much to the captain.
"Sir, if I may?"
For the first time in days, Ganby was forced to acknowledge his temporary Science Officer. Spock noted that his body language seemed to suggest anger at the sight of him. "What is it?" He snapped.
"Sir, I believe it is unwise to have the Defiant leave orbit while crewmembers are on the surface. If the natives are hostile - "
"If the natives are hostile," Ganby said coldly, "I would expect that you would be able to defend youself, Mr. Spock, and if you can not protect yourself against such a primitive race I seriously suggest you find a new career."
"That they are not yet technologically advanced, Sir, does not mean they could not prove a threat - especially if we mean to uphold the Prime Directive."
"Stop your pessimism, Commander." Ganby snapped, irritated. "What are the chances that they'll harm any of the party?
Spock considered all the variables. "Approximately seventy-nine point four eight six percent, Sir."
"Don't get smart with me, Commander." Spock tilted his head, puzzled. "You're going down to the surface, stop complaining."
"Sir, I am not 'complaining', I am merely..."
"Commander, shut up."
Spock fell silent.
"You're going down to the planet. The other are already in the transporter room. Hurry up. And I want to talk to you once you're back."
Spock left.
Predictable. Spock mentally reviewed the prior conversation with Ganby as he was carried to the long wooden post which he would be tied to and burnt on. It was strange how so many worlds evolved so alike. For example, here pointed ears were also a symbol of evil, such as on early Earth, and those who were 'consorting with the devil' in Terran past had also burned at the stake. Currently, he was bound and would be killed momentarily. He somehow doubted he could depend on any miraculous rescues from the Defiant as he might with the Enterprise. He would have to get out of this himself.
He glanced around as much as he could upside-down. The two science ensigns and two security ensigns were likewise bound, and he caught glimpses of their terrified faces between the people between them.
He was roughly deposited on the ground, and was complacent as he was now rebound to the post. He saw the other four struggling and watched with a raised eyebrow.
One man and a woman, presumably priest and priestess, spoke to the watchers in their native tongue, which without his translator he could not understand. He noted that everyone began hopping up and down as the priest and priestess finished their speech - perhaps their form of applause?
The priestess moved to stand some feet before Spock, and closing her eyes began to speak, her voice a rhythmic chant. The priest, now bearing a torch, approached him. Now was time to put his plan into action, and hope that it did not go ill for he and the ensigns.
Not all Vulcans had much in way of telepathic powers, though they all possessed them to some small degree. Spock, despite being half-human, was uniquely powerful in this aspect, a fact he often used to his advantage.
He reached out now with his mind, straining - Vulcan's were primarily touch-telepaths, after all. He felt the first tendrils of the priest's mind, wild and untamed, and did something he rarely did - he completely took over the priest.
The man stilled, his eyes glazing, then was moving again, now under Spock's control. He continued, normally, and through the priest's mind Spock became aware that the man had a ceremonial blade among his robes.
Strange sounds came from the watchers as the priest dropped the torch (like gasps, Spock thought) and quickly the old alien had retrieved his knife, slicing through Spock's bonds. Leaping forward, Spock gave the man a nerve-pinch deftly, grabbing the knife as he did so and neatly lowering the priest to the ground whilst doing this, ignoring the crowd's alarm. It was regrettable - the crowd may very well burn the old priest for helping them escape - but he had no choice.
Quickly he slit the rope-like material binding the others, who were gaping. The priestess was still chanting, as though unaware of his escape, but several of the crowd were gathering their wits. The last of the ensigns freed, he gestured them away, and they fled together.
Spock halted sooner than he would have liked, knowing that the humans, though fit as any Starfleet officers, were not able to endure so much as a Vulcan. Indeed, they seemed grateful for the respite. As his breathing finally began to even out, one of the science ensigns, Yellin, said, "I can't believe it - why would he just release you like that? Everyone looked pretty surprised, too, it wasn't a usual part of the ceremony."
"He did not do so willingly." She looked at him curiously, as did the others. He explained. "I used telepathy to control his mind so that he would release me."
On the Enterprise, the powers of their resident telepath were a source of some awe and, also, pride. Everyone knew how useful his gifts had so often been. Spock expected perhaps slight interest, but nothing more - certainly not the terror plain on Ensign Yellin's face.
"You controlled his mind?"
The other's looked equally shocked. "Yes."
One of the security ensigns reached for a phaser, or at least where a phaser would be, looking mortified when he grasped at air. The others sprang up, stumbling, and stepped away. He was a little confused - but then, humans often disliked the unknown, did they not? And psychic powers were unknown, at least to these humans.
He could think of nothing to say which he believed would likely assauge their fears, so instead he merely opted for silence. After a moment, the others, staring at him, slowly sat back down on the ground.
Now he spoke. "The Defiant should be in orbit in appoximately three point four two hours. As humans are not known for punctuality, perhaps later. They will be able to find our biosigns and beam us aboard, I am sure, if not so quickly as they would if we possessed communicators. I suggest you make yourselves comfortable. I will hear anyone approaching, though it is unlikely we will be pursued here. It would be unwise to move to conduct further studies."
They averted their eye Briefing room Ganby why does he want that? and nodded.
They did not speak for all of the four point seven nine one hours before they were beamed aboard.
"What?"
Spock's first response was to ask if the captain's hearing had been damaged, or to repeat himself. However, he deduced that the captain may take this to be more 'smart talk' and refrained. He was silent. As he had predicted, the captain had, indeed, heard him correctly.
"You took over their minds?"
"Negative. I only took over the mind of one individual, Sir."
"So you say!" Ganby looked furious. "What witchcraft is this?"
"Sir, all Vulcans possess a certain amount of telepathic ability - "
"Every one of you things can do this?" The other bridge officers watching the tirade looked a little nervous.
"Not precisely, Sir. I am unusually skilled in this regard."
"Go to the briefing room. Now."
"Sir?"
"Briefing room!"
"Yes, Sir."
The navigator, Lieutenant Welkis, exchanged troubled looks with First-Officer Roland. He had never seen the Captain so furious! Oh, the captain had a bit of a temper, and it was whispered he wasn't so fond of aliens, but never had he seen him so blindly cruel to a crewman. Why did he act like this to the Commander? The guy was a little intimidating, a little stiff, but otherwise he seemed fine to Welkis - that was just how Vulcans were.
He had a bad feeling about this.
Spock believed that this might be the human feeling of 'Deja Vu'.
Ganby was pacing, again (Jim did that, sometimes, though he did not understand the habit.)
"You took over his mind."
Spock said nothing, his eyes following the captain warily.
"You took over his mind, you demonic bastard. Do you do that here, too? With others? With me?"
My parents were married at my birth, he thought but did not say. McCoy had used that insult often, but never had he detected any truly negative feelings behind the words, unlike in this situation. "I do not. I would be incapable of maintaining the hold for longer than a few seconds. I assure you I have done no such thing on this ship."
"Then you have on your ship?" Spock was not given a chance to respond. "I wonder how much Kirk knows about you?" Ganby snorted derisively, face dark. "And should I take the word of an unreliable alien, hmm? You're not to use those damnable powers again."
"Sir," he sould not keep his silence at this. "It was necessary to the mission - "
"Necessary! Necessary! It wouldn't have been necessary if you hadn't gone and gotten yourself captured, you incompetent!"
Spock felt mildly insulted, a rare feeling for him. "Sir, it was quite impossible, given the situation."
"I don't want to hear your excuses!"
"Sir, I am not - "
"How stupid are you?"
"My IQ - "
"You are my subordinate - I order you to be silent!"
Spock obeyed.
Ganby was growing increasingly furious. How dare this thing presume he could take over the minds of others? He held no love for aliens, much less primitives like those of the planet below, but he was developing a special loathing for this one in particular.
"You took over their minds?" ? He was shouting, and in front of all his senior officers, too, but he couldn't bring himself to regret it.
"Negative. I only took over the mind of one individual, Sir."
"So you say!" Ganby was furious. Who knew what this devil-eared creature was capable of? "What witchcraft is this?"
"Sir, all Vulcans possess a certain amount of telepathic ability - " Disgust filled him.
"Every one of you things can do this?" The other bridge officers watching the tirade looked a little nervous.
"Not precisely, Sir. I am unusually skilled in this regard."
Of course he was - he was even worse than the rest of his lot.
"Go to the briefing room. Now."
He was yelling at the science officer, barely registering what he was saying. He saw red, red, and the idiot was still speaking, how dare he mouth off to his superior in more than rank like this?
He told it to be silent, and finally it listenened, but his anger did not abate, and he was yelling, and then - was he trying to speak? After an order not to? The green-blooded thing opened his mouth, and without even thinking of what he was doing he had struck it across the face.
Ganby's anger vanished. Cold shock raced through him.
They would never let him be captain after striking a subordinate, alien or not. His career was tenuous enough at best all ready, after that hushed-up scandal last year. He was ruined, and all because of this thing...
The last time Spock had felt more shocked was when he had thought he had killed the Captain real captain, not this one, nothing like Ganby, and while that had been much worse, not to be compared to this, he had not felt such an unguarded emotion in a long time.
Seemingly of their own volition his fingers were prodding at the tender flesh of his cheek where he had been struck. Being surpised on missions or such no longer brought him any surprise, mild or great, but this...
Ganby could not do such a thing. "Sir, you understand I must report you for this."
Ganby was staring at him, blankly, looking pale. He did not seem to have heard him.
"Sir?"
"Sir?"
Ganby looked at the Vulcan before him, clutching his cheek and looking at him with slightly widened eyes, the first damned emotion he had shown this whole trip... And suddenly his worry left. A cold, steely resolve came over him, the likes of which he had never before felt, and he was speaking, mind racing.
"You are to see the medical staff and have that healed. You merely slipped in your quarters. You will say nothing of this to anyone."
"You are to see Dr. Harcourt and have that healed. You merely slipped in your quarters. You will say nothing of this to anyone."
Spock felt even more confused, and now just a little apprehensive. "That, Sir, is not logical. I will tell Starfleet exactly what has - "
"No, you will not. You can not send any recorded messages without the Communications Officer approving, no one can, and I can overrule her and stop them anyway. You have no proof of anything but your word. You can do nothing on this ship; I am the captain, even if you can't seem to realize it, and I will be supported if you make any claims. You will have no evidence by the time we return."
Spock felt strangely confused. Ganby was correct. His mind searched for a logical, immediate means to get out of this that would not end badly for him. He found none.
"...Understood, Sir."
A bit of smugness was shown in Ganby's face. "What did I say about respect, Commander?"
Spock was silent for a moment. His pride - and he did have pride, did have honor, for those at least were very Vulcan - rebelled against this man, but... it would not be logical. The safest thing would be to wait until he could leave Defiant.
He lowered his eyes, and his voice was soft. "Yes, Sir."
Don't worry - can you really see him just taking that? Hint, hint.
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