Chapter 47 - Ignorance is Underrated
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Spock sat quietly in the command chair. He had not given up listening for Selina, although he calculated that the odds were at least 17.853 to 1 in favor of the Captain and McCoy reaching her before she had the opportunity to attempt to contact him. But since he had already changed any ship command code Allen might be forced to divulge, there was little else for him to do at present. If he were human, he would have worried for his friends, both old and new. However, as he was not, and knew worry to be an unproductive waste of mental energy (or so he had reminded himself three times in the last 14.29 minutes), he focused instead on listening and considering potential strategies should the Captain and McCoy also fall into Maldi's hands. He was somewhat surprised therefore at the sense of relief he experienced when Nyota informed him that they were receiving a signal from the Captain.
"On speaker, Lieutenant."
"Kirk to Enterprise. We've got Selina, but Sorenson isn't in the holding cells. Selina thinks he's is in their sickbay and says his 'mind doesn't feel right', which we assume means they've drugged him."
"We should still be able to transport a single individual back to the ship within a window of the next 6.74 minutes. Please inform Ms. Chandri -" Spock stated.
"Do not even suggest it, Spock." Selina's voice came over the transmission. "We are only contacting you to inform you of status and because, unlike the men you sent to 'rescue' me, I believe it is beneficial to know exactly where one is going and the most efficient route for arriving there. Kindly consult the schematic for this class of vessel and send the location and route to the sickbay from holding."
Had he been human, Spock might have been tempted to sigh. Instead he released a slow, deep breath while Chekhov extracted the requested information. When the tactical officer nodded, Spock merely said, "Transmitting now."
"Thank you. If the shields do not fall within the next hour, you should attempt to break through using phasers."
"Understood, Captain Chandri." One eyebrow rose almost of its own accord. "May I speak to the actual Captain to confirm those orders?"
They could hear Kirk chuckling as the communicator was returned to him. "Was that sarcasm, Spock? You are full of surprises today." It was almost possible to hear the grin in his voice. "Your non-sister would've made a fine captain. Orders confirmed. Kirk out."
Spock turned to see Nyota smiling. "He's right, you know. Why didn't she go into Starfleet?"
"Serving in Starfleet requires a willingness to also follow orders." He paused, considering that statement in light of the captain he had just spoken with. "However, there are obvious exceptions." His brows drew together in a vee as he considered the possibility that he had somehow chosen to serve under a captain very much like his headstrong kinswoman.
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Sorenson rolled his eyes up and side to side, as though trying to look up into his own brain for data. "Nope. Don't know that one either." He was very nearly laughing.
"You are a Commander in Starfleet. How could you not know that?"
There was a momentary tension as his eyes half-lidded, but then he flashed another impudent grin. "I'm sure I just couldn't say." He shrugged within the confines of his restraints. "Ignorance is underrated."
Jaco Maldi turned away. This was not the way things were supposed to go. He had been looking forward to watching the man who had wiped a substantial portion of his funds and destroyed his Volmari identity writhe and struggle against the compulsion to tell him everything, but not only was the prisoner not breaking, the man was smiling. Maldi was almost beginning to doubt his sources, but the man knew him and had nearly admitted stealing his money. And even if somehow this were the wrong person, he should at least look anxious and afraid, not like he was pulling off the best practical joke ever.
"Something wrong, Jaco?" The entirely-too-happy-prisoner asked in an insufferably smug tone.
Maldi spun around and slapped him.
"That all you got?" He raised an eyebrow. "I've had girlfriends hit me harder than that - a lot harder, in fact." Now he actually did laugh and broke into a broad smile that said 'and you know I'm telling the truth'.
Jaco's fists clenched and he very nearly gave in to temptation. But then he realized what must be going on. The last agent he'd captured had deliberately provoked a very stupid, and now very dead, guard to shoot him in order to avoid questioning. Whatever trick this one was using to resist, there had to be limits to it and he was trying to force an end before they were discovered. Sorenson seemed to struggle before answering some questions, and especially every time he was asked about Erik, but he never broke. Was there some sort of conditioning or preventive drug to damp the effects of verasitol? Surely he would have heard about it?
He walked around the prisoner, looking him over. Perhaps the answer was simpler than that, and if not, the same solution might still apply. "Doctor, are you certain you gave him the right dose? He's a large man, did you check his body mass?"
"Of course, sir. I know how important it is to get the dosage right." The doctor sounded somewhere between worried and offended.
"Well, he is giving nothing right now." Maldi said harshly. "Give him another dose."
"But sir,..." the doctor began. Maldi grabbed the second hypo, jabbing it harshly into the prisoner's neck.
Sorenson glared at him and frowned for the first time. "You're worse than a Starfleet doctor, you know that?"
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They moved down the hallway toward the ship's sickbay, Kirk walking behind as though escorting the prisoners.
"Hey, you!" someone called behind them. "What are you doing?"
They stopped and Kirk turned to face the man rapidly closing on them. "I'm taking these prisoners in for interrogation."
"When did we pick up another Starfleet?" he asked, looking McCoy over.
"Not for me to know." Jim said. "I'm just delivering them."
The man looked skeptical. "And who are you? I haven't seen you before."
"Me?" Jim stepped closer, all innocent blue eyes and engaging smile. "I'm new. Here, let me show you my ID." He sucker-punched the man square in the face, dropping him.
"You are pretty good too." Selina said, nodding approval.
Jim grinned. "Maybe I could be your -"
"Not that good."
"Right." Jim sighed. "At least now we've got a uniform for you too, Bones."
"Just give me his top." McCoy said pulling off his shirt. "Unlike some people, I'm not enough of an exhibitionist to strip down to my skivvies in front of a lady."
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Allen 'Fafhrd' Sorenson had never (knowingly) used recreational drugs. He wondered vaguely if his current state would fall into the category of 'stoned'. If so, he couldn't imagine why anyone would actually choose to enter it. He understood that half of the compound creating verasitol was meant to reduce inhibitions, so the first dose had produced something like moderate intoxication, at least when it wasn't creating a pressure to answer along with a sort of biofeedback in favor of a truthful reply. That had been a lot easier to resist than anticipated, since Grey had provided him with far more help in that regard that than she could ever imagine.
However, as the second dose had taken hold, he had gone way outside any previous experience of inebriation (at least any that he could still remember). Sadly, he had not entered what Spock called the 'incomprehensible lyrics' state of drunkenness. He still seemed to be able to speak clearly, although from what he could tell in the expression on Maldi's face, he had managed to keep his answers away from any useful information. But it was becoming increasing difficult. The 'painless' drug had gone from exerting a sort of positive compulsion, not entirely unlike Selina's prohibitive ones, to creating an throbbing pressure. And anything that his own internal censor recognized as verging on a lie had gone from 'let's just not say that' to 'stabbing pain'.
Fortunately, he'd never considered answering a question with a joke dishonest and the random associations cropping up in his head were increasingly letting him just babble. He'd even caught himself singing and had been delighted to provoke Maldi into hitting him again. But he was getting incredibly tired and there were some things Grey couldn't erase. In his current state he wasn't sure he could keep from slipping if Maldi worked out how to ask the right questions. After all his years of practice at being 'insufferable', he really ought to be able to get under the guy's skin enough to put an end to this.
"Let us try again." Maldi looked down at him. "What is your position?"
Sorenson gave him a 'you-can't-be-serious' look. "Currently, I'm face-up strapped to a biobed on a slight incline." He smiled at the pained expression that answer produced in his interrogator.
"What is your position in Starfleet Intelligence?"
"Haven't we been over this before? Is your memory as bad as mine?" That hurt a bit, but it was so worth it to see Maldi's mouth twist like that. If only his own eyes would stop going unfocused so he could enjoy it.
"Answer the question. Your position in SI?"
"I don't have one. I never have and I've turned down every offer so far." he replied in a sing-song voice. "I mean, seriously, can you picture me playing James Bond? Now if they'd ever offered 'Q', that might have been tempting, but it's not likely because - before you ask again - the closest I've ever had to an official SI code name is 'you-lunatic-what-do-you-think-you're-doing'." He smirked, or tried to (it might have come off as more of a wasted grin).
"But you have worked with SI?"
"Sure, most of Starfleet has. We just generally don't know it's them." His thoughts skewed on a tangent and he decided to go with it. "Hey, maybe my current captain is SI - she's used that lunatic thing for me a few times. Come to think of it, my last one did too. Captain Jim hasn't so far, but he was just promoted, so maybe they haven't gotten to him yet?"
"What are the names or code names of those individuals you know to be agents?" Maldi pressed.
Sorenson stared blankly up at the ceiling before lapsing into an oddly mellow expression. "I really don't remember. In fact, their faces are all kind of fuzzy too. Must be a secret agent thing, eh?" He raised his eyebrows and started humming 'Secret Agent Man'.
Maldi suppressed a groan and changed topics. "When we spoke earlier, it seemed that you knew Spock. Is that correct?"
"Yeah." Sorenson sighed. Maldi had no appreciation for music. "We were in the Academy together. He's a good guy. And he put up with me, so he's got a much better sense of humor than you'd expect in a Vulcan."
Maldi narrowed his eyes, thinking. "Tell me about his woman."
"I only just met her, so I can't tell you much." He was not lying he told himself firmly. It was not his fault if Maldi thought he was talking about Grey.
Unfortunately the pressure to tell him about her was still there. "She's really smart - well, I mean she'd have to be for Spock to like her - great sense of humor, and she's got a gift for languages. She pronounced my real first name perfectly right off. Not too many people do that. And she's incredibly beautiful - legs like you wouldn't believe! - I mean, Spock's a friend so I tried not to notice, but I'm only human, eh?" He made an attempt at winking. It might or might not have worked.
"Stop." Maldi ordered. "Let us discuss a more important topic." Sorenson relaxed and thanked any deity out there for Maldi's short attention span. He'd been running out of commonalities to list.
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AN: Spock actually does use sarcasm more often than you'd expect for a Vulcan in TOS. Usually it's McCoy who provokes it. Couldn't resist Selina calling to ask directions. You always have to wonder how Kirk&Co. manage to find their way around so quickly after beaming onto a strange ship or planet.
Bond may be an anachronism by the 23rd century, but somehow I doubt it. They just keep coming up with ways to remake those movies. (And personally, I also always wanted Q's job.) More of Sorenson than I'd originally intended in this chapter, but he's more Yorick than Hamlet and jesters are fun to write, especially when they're a bit wasted.
Yes, to all you McCoy!Urban fans, I did find a way to work in a brief scene where he takes off his shirt. (::grin::) But McCoy needs to not be wearing a Starfleet tunic and Jim turning on the charm to get in range to pop the guard (and show off his own skills to Selina) just had to be included.
