Part Two
It has been some time since Spock has witnessed an act as barbaric as the one currently playing out in front of him.
Mulk-dan and his subordinates make a spectacle of their victory by parading the oldest Qinaid around the central plaza of the complex. Every building overlooking the plaza, though mostly vacant, is on lockdown; by contrast, the Big Debate Hall has drawn the largest crowd of insurgents, all eagerly watching this show of humiliation.
His Excellency—for that is the title of the elderly official, according to his attendants' cries of despair—attempts to resist but his struggles and protests grow weaker with exhaustion after each circuitous route he is forced to complete. On the third repetition, most of the insurgents' jeers and taunts peter out to a silence of contempt. Only then is the Qinaid routed back to their closely guarded group.
The number three, Spock suspects, bears significance in Qinaid society, having at times seen Heng-ren perform an insignificant action three times in a row. Or perhaps, having satisfied themselves with His Excellency's shame, the insurrectionists are ready to move on to the next phase of their takeover of their civilization's seat of power.
As His Excellency's escort openly laugh when they shove the shaking Qinaid into the arms of his teary-eyed attendants. This purposely cruel treatment of an elder, who is too physically weak to fight back... It is not something Spock thinks can be justified under any circumstances.
He is not alone in his distaste. Lt. Kargin does not bother hiding her disgust, looking balefully upon their captors. One of her hands rests protectively on the arm of her still-unconscious partner, Collis, who had taken a hard blow to the neck and shoulders. Spock had ascertained to the best of his ability that the young man is not actively dying, but the nonresponsive state remains concerning regardless. Mulk-dan had coldly denied Spock's request for the lieutenant to receive medical attention.
"Your Excellency!" A concerned Heng-ren leans forward to grasp the sleeves of the other's robes, shuffling closer. His voice lowers. "Yung-sok, you must sit down before you fall down."
"Do not tell a superior what to do," rasps His Excellency, appearing to regain courage and strength from the many supporting hands, despite his continued wobbling. "Those traitors will have no opportunity to deride me further! How outrageous to attack a Supreme Consul thus!"
At least His Excellency's spirit has not been overly diminished.
But they cannot remain the grasp of the rebels. Clearly Mulk-dan and his ilk do not know the meaning of mercy.
Spock listens carefully as Heng-ren and Yung-sok converse, but the pair seem unable to agree on a solution. Heng-ren wants to reduce the overall number of captives, pleading for the junior-ranking officials and their attendants to be released unharmed. The Supreme Consul disagrees: if there must be suffering, a united front strengthens their position and saves face for the government.
At that point, Spock cannot help but step into their conversation with a strong objection. "The greatest risk in a hostile takeover is loss of life. I must side with Consul Heng-ren—to be assured of the safety of even a few lives must take precedence over preserving one's dignity."
A sharper, louder voice intercedes, demanding, "Is there something the Consuls wish to share with the rest of us?"
Mulk-dan strides into their midst, flanked by two hard-eyed Qinaid. One of them holds a Starfleet phaser in each hand.
Mulk-dan casts a suspicious look over the captives. "It would be futile to seek to escape. You will be killed before you can cross the grounds. We now control the capital."
"No simple feat," Spock says, "which suggests your people infiltrated the government long ago—or, possibly, certain officials have recently changed their allegiance."
"How often is the Federation's presence challenged that you can be so calm in front of us, Mr. Spock?"
"Less than you think." Spock wishes to lock his hands behind his back but knows it could be perceived as a threat. "I am simply not prone to displays of emotion."
Mulk-dan doesn't hide his contempt. "I had thought Vulcans were a race to be respected. You so rarely insert yourselves into the business of others. But you seem the exception. Living among the Humans has infected you with their bad habits."
Spock stiffens, ready to rebuke this fool for speaking so ill of the crew Spock has come to appreciate over the years.
"Or is it that you were never Vulcan enough since birth?" sneers Mulk-dan. "What a disappointment you must be to your family."
Kargin shoots to her feet. "You bastard! Take that back!"
"Lieutenant!" At Spock's commanding tone, she looks away, although to his dismay she crosses her arms over her chest in a subtle display of displeasure at being essentially ordered to stand down. Spock returns his attention to the Qinaid attempting to bully him. He tells Mulk-dan too softly, "My family is no concern of yours."
"But your nature is. If you were a proper Vulcan, Mr. Spock, I would consider you a potential ally. To us, it is logical that the Federation does not belong here—as it would be to you if not for your half-blood. So you are useless to us."
Heng-ren surprises Spock by briefly placing a supportive hand on his forearm. Then Heng-ren lifts his chin at Mulk-dan.
"Fortune favors the righteous since you are unable to see the value in the Commander's duality."
"What do you mean?"
"The only person here who could get you closer to Qinaid's retraction from the Federation is this officer. The Commander's choice of career may require him to work closely with Terrans, but his father is renowned within the Federation. Ambassador Sarek would surely come here to listen to you if he knew his son was your hostage."
Spock does not like the sudden gleam in Mulk-dan's eyes, particularly when the Qinaid appears to re-evaluate him from head to toe.
Mulk-dan gestures at the empty-handed rebel. "I want you to escort the Starfleet Commander to the Controller Office. Take one of their weapons—disable him if necessary but avoid a kill shot. Apparently, he is of value to our agenda."
Just before the newly armed rioter forces Spock to separate himself from the others, Heng-ren touches Spock's arm again.
"Find your captain," he whispers, "and get to safety." His tone is sincere as he adds, "As your human friends say: good luck."
Spock now understands that Heng-ren has deliberately revealed his family connection to create an opportunity for escape. The Supreme Consul may not seek to remove his companions from harm's way, but Heng-ren has at least tried to save Spock.
Spock thanks him, and then lets himself be led deeper into the city complex.
Having studied a rudimentary layout of the capital ahead of the assignment, Spock recalls the Controller Office is its operations center. It would be the primary access point to the critical systems supporting the government-owned complex. Given the rebel faction has blocked incoming and outgoing transmissions, Spock hopes the Controller Office is also the key to unlocking the interference.
Mulk-dan likely intends to put Spock onscreen for a communique to Starfleet Command, so it makes sense for Spock to be brought here. But also, it is a grave miscalculation on their part.
Thankfully, Dr. McCoy had slipped into the Consul's medical clearance packet a set of biological recordings of the Qinaid humanoid form. The central nerve system is comprised of two intertwined spinal cords; the most vulnerable point is set at the base of the skull. It would require precision to strike directly and of course the appropriate amount of pressure and the element of surprise. Under other circumstances, namely with additional officers to watch his back, Spock might be able to practice on a few Qinaid to perfect the technique. Instead, it is perhaps better to prepare himself to use advanced hand-to-hand combat he learned over the years sparring with his captain.
Stepping into the Controller Office, however, poses another problem: three more insurgents staring suspiciously at Spock's arrival despite the guards relaying Mulk-dan's orders.
Forced to stand as he is tucked away in a corner without an offer of a chair, Spock can see the main desk with the communication inlays but not reach it easily without inciting an attack.
What would Jim do?
The answer is simple: create an opportunity.
Spock closes his eyes, touching his fingertips to his temples. He sways where he stands.
"What are you doing?" asks the one guarding him warily.
"I—I do not feel well."
And with that pronouncement, he drops to the floor—albeit, falling as gracefully as possible to minimize the impact on his limbs—and uses his excellent control over his body's rhythm to simulate a faint.
"What happened!" demands an irritated voice across the room.
The guard denies, "It wasn't me! I didn't touch him!" Then, more agitated and also mildly alarmed, "He isn't moving."
Spock senses the others in the room drawing closer. The guard has already knelt alongside him, prodding him with—oh how fortuitous, the stolen phaser.
The opportunity has arrived.
Spock jerks the phaser from the guard's grip and flips it around while flicking the stun setting on in a very practiced motion. He pops the guard at close range before the guard can do more than gasp in surprise. Then the guard slumps over Spock, who steadies the man's descent as he sits up.
Two rebels freeze when they see Spock sit up. They too do not have time to react as Spock fires upon them. As their bodies hit the floor, Spock in on his feet, his aim directed at the remaining person in the room.
"Do not move," Spock orders.
The Qinaid draws her spine straight, her stare cold, but wisely does not reach for the weapon clipped to her outfit. "You killed them," she accuses.
"I do not kill." Spock approaches her. "Nor would I serve an institution that believes taking lives is the most expedient solution." He punctuates his statement by zapping her, close enough that he catches her shoulder as she loses consciousness and controls her fall to the ground. Let the Qinaids think on his mercy when they awaken.
Temporarily free of threats, Spock moves to the communication station and gets to work.
Time is not on Spock's side, and he feels the strain of being aware of that.
He knows his mind well in one regard: he will not abandon the planet. It should be argued logically his duty as second-in-command is to return to the ship in orbit to ensure the safety of the remaining crew while working remotely to free the captives. He may have done just that in the past without hesitation. Yet at this moment, the idea feels—while not wrong, necessarily—foreign and unwanted. Furthermore, an explanation for choosing danger over duty will be required later and push Spock to make certain convoluted rationalizations and dust off one or two archaic regulations in his defense.
He can hear Doctor McCoy's voice now: "Letting your heart rule your head, Spock? We finally turned you into one of us!"
Yes, he is staying, and for so simple a reason as needing to tuck his friends safely under his proverbial wings once more. It is not acceptable when they face a crisis without him. Into the tiger's den they go as one; and as one, they should walk away from it.
When Spock manages to disable the interference shield between the planet and the Enterprise, he does so for the briefest amount of time that will securely send a coded message on his choice of a lesser-known frequency. As it does not contain his coordinates for an emergency beam-out, the recipients will soon need to satisfy themselves that his intentions are well-thought-out and in the best interest of everyone.
If luck is truly with Spock, the faction will not discern the blip.
Accomplishing what he can within a half-hour is imperative. The sooner he can leave this area, and in effect disappear, the higher chance there is of moving about unscathed.
The main server's logs, Spock discovers, are promising. Mulk-dan's tactical strategy included infiltrating the complex's operations and security programs, leaving them essentially wide-open for Spock to explore and utilize. There is no time to effectively take back control of the entire technical infrastructure. So he prioritizes the subprograms supporting communications.
Outwitting an enemy in part relies on doing what is unexpected. On his own, having learned over years of experience how to operate in counterpoint to the logic-based path, Spock finds it simple enough to outline a solid contingency plan or two. He finds comfort in that they are statistically sound. And so his focus is thus engaged for the better part of the time he can spare.
Finally, he move on to the task he most desires to undertake: locating the approximate whereabouts of Kirk and McCoy.
The security monitoring program is the most useful. The complex's internal camera array is disabled, while the external array remains active. Likely Mulk-dan is paranoid that if someone were to access the program remotely, it would give away an advantage. But only having eyes for an attack from the outside is a mistake. With Starfleet officers on the loose, the interior of this complex is already compromised.
Spock is successful in activating the thermal imagers installed alongside some camera setups. When they come online, it takes a few minutes to adjust the settings to differentiate between the heat of the landscape and that of life signs. Once again, the chief medical officer's report comes in handy: Qinaid internal body temperature is lower than a Terran's. Kirk and McCoy should stand out like beacons if only he can scan the complex quickly enough to seek them out. He initiates the search.
Again, if luck is in his favor, the men have stayed together. Having likely escaped together, they would not separate unless circumstances otherwise forced it. While it is highly improbable that Mulk-dan has ignored the fact that they escaped, Kirk and McCoy have experience in laying low. Yet Spock feels the urgency of finding them before the enemy does.
Ah, the results are in. The two lieutenants are still within the plaza. But no Terran-like signatures are walking the open pathways of the complex. His missing shipmates have chosen to hide within the interior, then. Spock proceeds to execute another search for the hallways and common areas, keeping aware of the seconds passing and surprised it sends impatience thrumming through him. If Spock were human, he suspects he might be agitated enough to drum his fingers against the console as he has seen Jim do upon the arms of the captain's chair.
At last, the search is complete—and the results are initially disheartening. He skims past the lack of returns on matching signatures. The only useful information is a fading trail of heat leading to the westernmost branch of the complex. It is still too warm to be from a Qinaid. He has a direction to pursue, at least.
And just in time. His self-imposed half-hour is over. Either he exits the Controller Office before the effects of being stunned wear off and the Qinaid awaken, or he prepares to face his captors once more. He readies his phaser and leaves.
With his Vulcan hearing and an intuition honed from many dangerous missions, Spock avoids three encounters with the patrol and stops short of crossing into the path of a handful of rioters busying themselves with vandalizing property. The deeper he navigates into the maze-like corridors of the western wing, the quieter it becomes.
What is initially a cluster of small offices has opened in the occasional stateroom and lounge. Spock crosses silently through an open area that might serve as a moderate-sized ballroom or conference hall. As he exits to the opposite side, he stills in front of an archway of a parallel corridor. He hears light scraping sounds against the floor—likely someone attempting to move as stealthily as him. Soon, Spock can discern an irregular pattern of hushed breaths. Only one individual, he determines, progressing in his direction.
At the right moment, Spock darts around the archway and grabs the person's arm. They don't stifle their cry of alarm. He uses his momentum to swing them against the nearest wall, leveling his phaser between them.
The person hangs like dead weight in Spock's hard grip. "Don't!"
Spock recognizes the Qinaid and releases him. If not for the wall, the Qinaid would have sunk immediately to the ground. But even remaining upright, he is still cowering.
"You are the Consul's assistant," Spock says. "Do you recognize me? I am Captain Kirk's first officer."
"T-The Vulcan," supplies the young Qinaid. "Oh, it is you, Mr. Spock! I thought one of them had caught me!"
He can only mean the insurgents. But Spock is not inclined to address frightening him; another matter is more pressing. "I last saw you with the captain. Where is he?"
"He and Officer McCoy—"
"Doctor McCoy," corrects Spock.
"—yes, your ship's physician! They saved me. We broke free of the melee. I led them to this section, Mr. Spock, because I knew it would be vacant, as we hold no court sessions this time of year."
"When were you separated?" Spock urges.
"Only just now." The Qinaid's gaze flits nervously around the corridor. "Captain Kirk wanted to access one of the guard stations but there is only one on this side of the campus. I wasn't sure where it was, but when we did find it, it was occupied…" His voice quavers. "Doctor McCoy told me to run while Captain Kirk held them off. I—I am sorry! I am ashamed I did not protect them like they protected me!"
Spock had tightened a hand into a fist out of the Qinaid's sight at the thought of Kirk and McCoy in another fight for their lives. "Do not blame yourself," Spock tells him.
The Qinaid's aggrieved expression does not abate. "What of the Consul and His Excellency?"
"Alive and unharmed when we last parted. But do not go to your comrades," Spock adds swiftly when he sees a change in the other's expression. "I believe Heng-ren would want you to stay safely hidden until the situation is under control."
"Yes, sir."
"I must know the location of the guard station."
"But wouldn't your comrades want you to be safe also?"
"They would understand my choice."
"And you have that weapon," the Qinaid says knowingly.
Spock would go to their aid, armed or not. This he does not mention. "Precisely. Will you help me?"
And the young Qinaid does, providing Spock with very detailed instructions on where to find his captain and doctor.
Handheld tools lay scattered at the closed door to the guard station. It finally occurs to Spock that not all the protestors must have been outfitted with firearms. But a large tool in the grip of a violent and crazed person can be as deadly as a blast from an energy weapon. A moment of uneasiness envelopes Spock as he considers the door and his options, given he does not know what he will confront on the other side.
But walking away now, like leaving the planet, is not a choice he can make. He chooses the danger—for them, always.
The door is not automatic, and he must retract it manually, which he does with judicious application of his arm strength, his phaser at the ready.
Two familiar figures are facing away from the door, standing close and slightly bent over a container of some kind. At his intrusion, they jerk upright.
Were Spock more emotional, he might have swayed on his feet in relief. "Captain. Doctor." His voice is oddly hoarse to his own ears.
"Spock!" comes a cry—Jim, the first to wheel around in surprise.
Spock catches his captain by the shoulders after Jim hurries over to Spock and pulls Spock in. He folds unresisting into the tight hug for all that his hands remain loose upon Kirk's shoulders.
"You're a sight for sore eyes," claims McCoy, staring intently at Spock from behind Kirk. Spock directs an impassive stare his way. "Jim was having palpitations over what those fiends might be doing to you."
Spock is well-aware that by putting the burden of the sentiment onto someone else, Leonard means to distract Spock from the fact that Leonard shares the concern.
"It was nothing I could not handle, Doctor," he responds, watching as the man visibly relaxes. Then Spock adds, "But I cannot take full credit for my escape. Consul Heng-ren convinced the leader that I am the most useful hostage they have—which led to a window of opportunity."
"Huh. That Qinaid's not so awful now, is he?" teases McCoy. "Jim, c'mon, that's enough! Let Spock go so I can scan more than one side of him."
Kirk's huffed sigh stirs the fine hairs at Spock's nape.
Feeling disappointed is inevitable when Spock is released so that Kirk can make room for the doctor.
McCoy waves his tricorder all around Spock, humming at the results until he tucks the device back against his side. "Your heart rate's up a bit, but heaven knows if that's good or bad for a Vulcan... so I'll settle for thinking you must be as happy to see us." He prods Spock's upper arm, humor crinkling the corners of his eyes.
Spock locks his hands behind his back. "As pleased as one can feel in light of our precarious situation."
Jim smiles, but his gaze turns shrewd. "We heard the signal on the ship's secondary channel. Morse code?"
"A return to basics, when necessary, Captain."
"Ancient, you mean," clarifies McCoy.
"Uhura studied Morse code, Bones."
Spock confirms, "Indeed, that was why I chose it."
His captain nods. "Good work, Spock." Then he claps his hands together, looking disturbingly at ease all of a sudden. "Well, with the Enterprise up there to handle raising the alarm, that leaves us in charge down here."
McCoy looks dubious. "Never one to sit idly by, are you, Jim?"
"Not when people are in danger."
Leonard snaps back, "Which includes us!"
The sharp reminder is of no surprise to Spock, as it is quite in keeping with the reaction he would expect. While Leonard McCoy is no coward when confronted with danger, he never forgets his duty to insist their own lives are as equally valuable as anyone else's. Spock has come to appreciate that about him.
Spock knows that Jim does as well, also unsurprised by the captain's brief touch to the doctor's shoulder, a silent acknowledgment.
McCoy's bristling fades. "All right, then. What's our strategy beyond 'don't die'?"
"Reverse the odds," Spock and Jim say as one.
Startled, they look at each other, causing Leonard to laugh. Then the doctor summarizes, "So, stop anarchy in its tracks. Just another day in Starfleet!"
Jim claps the man's shoulder. "That's the spirit."
"Don't look so pleased, Jim. One of these days your choices will push me into retirement."
For some reason, that remark is sobering. Jim responds before Spock can, saying with a softer tone, "Bones... we need you."
"We are stronger together," Spock adds.
McCoy ducks his chin as if bashful, though his words carry conviction. "We're better together, you mean."
Yes, Spock wants to agree. You are the ones who make me sometimes a stranger to myself and yet afterward always better known.
Spock recalls what he was like before knowing these men. He would not choose to revert, he thinks, unless he means to forget all they are to him. He may not be certain in his ability to love them as they deserve, but the loving itself cannot be undone so easily.
"Spock?"
Spock finds Kirk and McCoy expectantly watching him.
"An idea occurred to me earlier," Spock begins slowly. "Doctor, your medical report on the Qinaid was the inspiration."
McCoy's eyebrows rise. It's Jim who says, "Explain." It's clear they are both eager to hear more.
"Initially I was able to use the data point on their average body temperature to parse a scan for anomalies that could constitute another species. At the time, the intent was to confirm your whereabouts. But this methodology can be repurposed to identify every Qinaid within a specified range. From the ship, we could target an entire population. I believe there is an opportunity to enact something similar from the surface."
"Incapacitate the army, even briefly, to break the ranks," Jim inserts, clearly following along.
McCoy hums. "It would certainly stir up a hornets' nest, maybe tank their morale if nothing else."
"Spock," Jim says, "the ship's phaser banks aren't at our disposal. This local defense system seems rudimentary, plus the Intelligence reports never indicated the Qinaid are sophisticated in weaponry and warfare. What kind of device are you proposing?"
McCoy grins all of a sudden. "Their ears, Jim!"
Kirk's gaze narrows. "Ears?"
"Affirmative," Spock says. "Dr. McCoy included a footnote about the hearing sensitivity of the Qinaid." He indicates Kirk's communicator. "The range of which we can quite easily produce ourselves. There is a phonographic array installed by the complex's south wall. I took the liberty of making it accessible."
McCoy bobs on the balls of his feet. "So that's where we go next, to crank up an old sound system?"
"We'd never make it, Bones. Not even just one of us..." Kirk paces a few steps away, then turns back. He meets Spock's dark eyes, a grim look in his own. "At least, not without a very timely distraction. Spock... you're the one who knows where that array is and what needs to be done."
Spock can feel his back muscles tensing. "I can share its location, and Dr. McCoy's guess would be better than about the distinct wavelength needed to be effective."
"Thanks for the vote of confidence," the doctor says, "but that's not what Jim's getting at."
The words feel stiff coming out of Spock's mouth. "I am aware, Doctor, but the risk is too great. Mulk-dan has not only encouraged others to violence but demonstrated his willingness to use it. The moment he has either of you in sight, he will torment you—possibly kill you—to slake the hatred he feels for the Federation."
McCoy shakes his head. "I disagree. Defacto leader or not, this guy wouldn't want dead Federation citizens on his hands. It would invite a war a small fry like him doesn't have the resources to handle. Terrorists like him, their main goal will always be centered around keeping control of their home base since they don't care for those people who live outside it. He'd be a fool to jeopardize that."
Jim interjects, "Bones, he's still a fool who runs a hate campaign. There will be others who won't care about the bigger picture."
"A compromise, then," decides Spock, "given that my Vulcan heritage makes me the most suitable to engage Mulk-dan's ilk without immediately inciting any murderous tendencies. Mulk-dan himself is convinced I am... a tool to be used. My cooperation will assuage his doubts."
Jim and Leonard stare at him, their feelings ill-concealed. They like his solution as little as he likes theirs, and it could easily be a stalemate on who must forfeit themselves to the enemy. Spock awaits their argument about sending him into danger alone.
Jim steps closer to Spock, an underpinning of resignation in his tone as he says, "I want to be clear on why I'm choosing to let you do this, Spock, even when I don't like the odds. You're skilled, that's unquestionable. But more importantly I trust you to know your limits. You say you can do it and be safe, and I believe you."
Part of him wants to reply, I do not take your trust for granted. I will do my best not to disappoint you.
"And no matter what those bigots say, remember that they aren't worthy of you," Leonard says, mouth pursed. "So don't feel bad about using their foolishness against them. It's their loss not knowing the real you."
Jim smiles. "They absolutely don't," he seems to agree with the doctor. "That is your best advantage, Spock."
Kirk and McCoy sound confident in their belief that they know—and appreciate—who Spock is. Spock intends to explore that revelation at a later time. But first, they must help each other survive what comes next.
And so together Spock, Kirk, and McCoy begin outlining the details of their plan to thwart the rebellion on Qinaid.