Star Trek: The Original Series: The More Things Change

by Scott Pearson

  As she threw herself into the copilot’s seat she got a glimpse of Spock’s profile: his jaw clenched, his gaze unblinking as he drove the shuttle beyond capacity. He was shutting down everything he could; the displays and lights went dark as the whine of the warp engines got louder and higher in pitch.

  “Spock?”

  He made no sign that he’d even noticed her presence, much less that he had heard her. His fingers continued to dance along the controls as he pushed the Copernicus past its repairs and past its specs.

  “Spock! Report!”

  He blinked his eyes, and his expression softened slightly as he glanced toward her. “I surmised that although they were trying to keep us from going back to warp, they would not risk the effects of a collision. I maneuvered until they were in a spot directly along our course and then, as Mister Scott might say, gave it all she’s got.”

  “I did tell you whatever it takes. Carry on.”

  “Acknowledged. If I can convey a certain level of recklessness, perhaps they will be convinced that further attempts to capture us could result in the loss of the Copernicus and be self-defeating.”

  “It would be self-defeating for us too, so be careful.”

  “A logical approach.”

  Throughout the exchange his hands never stopped moving. Pushing the already damaged shuttlecraft so hard required constant adjustments to maximize energy output without burning out repaired systems. The sound of the warp engines was a screech of pain, like a wild animal caught in a trap, and yet Spock kept the shuttle going. Chapel felt a little surge of hope that somehow he’d pushed the Copernicus beyond the limits of their enemy, that they would make it to the rendezvous. But then there was a deep moan that shuddered through the deck. Emergency lighting flickered and dimmed. Suddenly it seemed there was smoke everywhere, and they dropped from warp, dead in space.

  “There is nothing more I can do.” With his shoulders slumping in a very un-Vulcanlike way, Spock shut down the sputtering warp engines completely and shifted all power to life support. “We cannot go to warp.”

  Chapel knew there was no point in running on impulse power. The enemy would be on top of them any second regardless. “You did everything you could. Like you always do.”

  Spock said nothing, but he straightened up and peered through the forward port for their enemy.

  “There they are.” Chapel pointed to starboard as the unidentified ship took a slow, wheeling turn in front of them, as if making sure a cornered animal had no fight left. As the ship arced around and headed back toward the Copernicus, a universal docking ring was easily visible on its port side. They clearly still meant to board the shuttlecraft.

  Spock reached below the center screen and opened the weapons locker. Before he could take a phaser, Chapel grabbed both of them, one in each hand. “You’d better arm yourself as well,” she said as she checked the charges in the phasers. In response to Spock’s raised eyebrow, she added, “You think I’m kidding? This doubles my chances.”

  With a shrug, he got up and went into the aft cabin to access the portside locker. Chapel followed close behind. Dax turned toward them.

  Spock said, “I am sorry, Commissioner, but we are about to be boarded. We will do all we can to protect you.”

  “Thank you.” Her voice was soft.

  Spock opened the weapons locker.

  Dax spoke up more firmly: “Please hand me one of those.”

  He glanced at Chapel, who stepped beside her patient. Dax was pale, and her head shook a bit as she lifted it from the pillow, but her stare was unblinking. Chapel gave Dax a grim smile, then said over her shoulder, “Get her a type-1, that’ll be easier to handle.”

  Spock checked the small phaser’s charge and setting, then handed it to Dax. “I hope you do not have to use it.”

  She smiled weakly. “I think I’ll have to disappoint you on that.”

  As he nodded and pulled a phaser for himself from the locker, the clang of the universal docking ring conforming to the port hatch echoed within the shuttle, accompanied by a sharp jolt. Chapel and Spock both staggered a bit. Spock hurried out of the aft cabin.

  Before following, Chapel said, “Good luck.”

  “To us all,” said Dax.

  Chapel stepped over the threshold, awkwardly holding her two phasers in one hand while locking the door to the aft cabin behind her. Then she positioned herself in front of it, both phasers pointed at the port hatch. Spock stood across from her in the cockpit, his phaser also trained on the hatch. A soft whoosh outside the hatch indicated that the docking tube between the ships had been pressurized, further confirmed by the sound of boots approaching the shuttle. Chapel stole another look at Spock as sparks erupted around the edges of the door. He glanced her way and nodded, somehow saying so much with the subtle gesture, before refocusing on the hatch.

  Just as Chapel turned back, the sparks stopped. A stinging smoke hung in the air, along with the sharp echoes of the cutting process. Then the hatch began to be pulled outward from its frame. Without glancing at each other, Chapel and Spock fired simultaneously into the widening gap around the hatch. They were rewarded with a heavy thud, presumably caused by a suddenly unconscious humanoid falling to the deck on the other side.

  Chapel smiled at the thrill of that victory, but it didn’t last long. Now the hatch was pushed quickly forward into the shuttle, and the return disruptor fire wasn’t set on stun. The shrill scream of the energy beams slicing through the air was deafening, the near misses still painful, as waves of heat burned even through their uniforms. Chapel thought that they may have stunned one more, but she and Spock were forced backward to the starboard hatch to avoid being hit. They stopped firing and raised their arms in surrender to bring the barrage to an end.

  Smoke now filled the forward cabin, glittering with minute particles blasted from the damaged surfaces around them. The destroyed hatch clanged to the deck, and two Orion males appeared from the gloom, disruptor rifles at the ready. Chapel grimaced as the identity of their pursuers was finally revealed. The Orions were well known as pirates and slavers. Tall and muscular, they seemed to fill the shuttle as they strode forward, pinning Chapel and Spock against the starboard hatch.

  Spock took a half step forward, as much as he could in the cramped space. “You are in violation of interstellar law.”

  The Orions exchanged bemused smiles. The one on Chapel’s right said, “Drop the phasers.” There seemed little choice, and Chapel and Spock both let their weapons fall to the deck. The one on Chapel’s left, who was a slightly paler shade of green than the other, gathered up the weapons and tossed them into the docking tube. Then he stepped over to the door to the aft cabin. When it didn’t open automatically, he blasted the locking mechanism with his disruptor and kicked the door in with a large black boot. The wall of the medical unit was designed for privacy, not to withstand an assault.

  Chapel tried to move toward the aft cabin, but she stopped when the Orion guarding them swung his disruptor into her face. Door-kicker stepped over the threshold and was immediately hit by a heavy phaser stun. He staggered backward, cracked his head on the handrails above the pilot’s seat, and fell to the floor. The remaining Orion laughed at his insensate companion and shouted, “The Trill’s definitely alive!”

  A voice responded from within the docking tube. “That’s fortunate for you trigger-happy idiots.” A third Orion male entered the shuttlecraft, stepping carelessly upon the legs and arms of his unconscious crew members, two in the docking tube and Door-kicker in the shuttle. He was a little shorter than the guards who had entered first, but his bare arms were even more muscular. Chapel guessed he would have no trouble dealing with his subordinates in hand-to-hand combat.

  He stepped beside his remaining guard and looked Spock up and down. “Move the Trill to my ship.”

  Before Spock could reply, Chapel said, “No.” She folded her
arms across her chest and glared back at the Orion.

  He turned toward Chapel, a curious expression on his face. Glancing back at Spock, he said, “I’ll deal with you shortly.” He stepped closer to Chapel as he reached into his belt and drew a disruptor pistol, which he placed gently under her chin. “If you refuse, I’ll kill you and move her myself.”

  Chapter 9

  Chapel could feel Spock’s gaze on her, sense his readiness to fling himself between her and the Orions. But she was in command of this mission, and she would continue to take the initiative. Besides, it was her understanding that Orion women wielded the true power in their society, so she might have more of a chance at controlling this situation than Spock.

  Chapel moved her chin away from the disruptor to make it easier to talk. “Why do you want her?”

  The Orion commander shoved the disruptor back against her throat. “I get paid well because I don’t answer such questions. I’m not paid to spare people who get in my way.”

  Chapel swallowed painfully. His nonanswer actually implied some information. He may have been hired to take Dax. Or maybe any Trill, she thought. Trill secrecy could lead to curiosity from dangerous places.

  She paused long enough that Spock entered the conversation. “Doctor, I think the logical course of action is to do whatever is necessary to keep Commissioner Dax alive.”

  Chapel understood he meant keeping herself alive as well. Clearing her throat, she said, “My patient will die without treatment, and this raid of yours will be pointless.”

  “Pointless? No, this is a reward for my gamble. My idiot crew thought shadowing the Enterprise on its way to another boring Federation conference would be pointless, but then a shuttle went off on its own. And who was aboard but a Trill. And if she dies, we still have a human female—and a Vulcan with a generous price on his head in the Romulan Empire.” He moved the disruptor from Chapel’s throat and poked its emitter roughly against Spock’s temple. “Dead or alive.”

  A bounty hunter, Chapel thought. He’ll sell any or all of us to the highest bidder. She gave Spock a look she hoped was encouraging, then turned back to the Orion commander. “I’ll need someone to carry her.”

  The Orion commander smiled and stepped back from Spock, but he kept his disruptor pointed at Spock’s head. “Dulan, go with her.”

  The guard nodded and gestured with his disruptor rifle at Chapel. She led him into the aft cabin over the demolished door. Dax’s eyes were closed, her skin pale. Chapel scanned her briefly. There was nothing she could do. They were running out of time, and desperate measures were called for. Chapel steeled herself as she would before delivering bad news to a patient or a patient’s family.

  She turned toward Dulan, who stood a meter and a half away from her, his disruptor pointed at her midsection. In her best neutral doctor’s voice, Chapel said, “I need to prepare her medication. It will only take a moment.” She gave him a poker-faced stare until he nodded grudgingly. Chapel opened a drawer in the diagnostic bed and began mixing a vial of the sedatives she thought would act quickly on an Orion. Dulan watched her closely as she whipped up the potent drug cocktail and loaded it into a hypospray. She leaned over Dax, then hesitated.

  “Go ahead, give it to her,” Dulan said.

  She looked up at him. “Listen, we both know that I’ll probably be separated from my patient, whether by being put in a different cell or being killed. Let me show you the best point of injection so she can continue receiving her meds if I’m not there. I’m sure she’s worth more to your commander alive.”

  Dulan looked uncomfortable. “I’m not even a field medic. Show someone else.”

  Chapel stifled a smirk. Is this big hunk of Orion muscle squeamish? “Come on,” she said firmly, “the treatment’s as easy as plomeek soup. I’ll show you.” She was certain Spock’s sensitive hearing would pick that up.

  She leaned back over Dax. “You can’t see from back there. There’s a very specific point on her neck . . .”

  Dulan stepped forward and craned his thick neck to see where Chapel was pointing a finger at a specific Trill spot on the side of Dax’s neck. When she was sure she had his full attention, she said, “Just remember the shape of this spot. That’s where you need to place the hypospray.”

  As she finished the sentence, she was already injecting Dulan in the abdomen with the hypospray in her other hand. He didn’t even have time to blink before he slumped forward. Chapel tried to guide him quietly to the deck, but he was easily over a hundred kilos and went down like a bag of rocks, his disruptor clattering alongside him.

  Chapel stooped to grab the disruptor. At the same time, the face of the Orion commander appeared in the doorway. He leaned further in, a look of shock on his face. His disruptor wasn’t yet visible, as his arm was across his chest, still pointing back at Spock. As Chapel got her hands on the disruptor and started to raise it, the commander had already swung his arm around, bringing his pistol to bear on her. That’s when Spock’s hand appeared on the Orion’s beefy shoulder and pinched a particular nerve in the Orion’s neck. Spock maneuvered the unconscious commander softly to the deck.

  Chapel immediately injected the commander with the hypospray; then, stepping over him, she left the aft cabin to do the same to the other three fallen Orions. “They’ll be out for at least six hours.”

  Spock nodded. “The rest of the crew will soon check on their commander.”

  “How many more do you think there are?”

  “From the size of their ship, I would estimate at least three, possibly five.”

  “We have to get Audrid to the rendezvous. We need that ship.”

  “It is the only logical course of action open to us. And we need to neutralize the Orions for our own safety regardless.” He moved quietly to the docking tube to retrieve their phasers.

  Chapel tucked the hypospray into the medkit, which was still in the cockpit, and slung it over her shoulder. She grabbed two of the phasers. Spock grabbed a phaser and the commander’s disruptor pistol. This time Chapel raised an eyebrow at him.

  He hefted the disruptor. “I find myself unable to estimate the exact odds, but certainly this increases our chances.”

  Chapel smiled grimly and they headed into the docking tube. It was five or six meters long and shaped a bit like an S; Chapel surmised it was to provide defensible points during boardings and to keep the boardees from being able to fire shots straight back into the Orion ship.

  Spock had taken point, and Chapel felt comfortable letting the experienced officer lead the way. They rounded the final curve to find a closed hatch. Spock raised an eyebrow. “They may not yet realize anything is wrong. Although I would be surprised if they were not scanning the Copernicus.”

  “Their commander did say they were idiots.”

  “Indeed.” Spock banged on the door with the butt of the disruptor pistol and bellowed in passable Orion, “Idiots!”

  The hatch immediately swung open, revealing another Orion male, this one shirtless and displaying a weightlifter’s physique. When he saw them instead of his commander, he stood-stock still, too stunned to do anything but stare back at them, eyes wide. Chapel stunned him with both phasers, and Spock caught him, dragging him back into the docking tube. Confused shouts echoed within the Orion ship at the sound of phaser fire.

  Chapel tightened her grip on her phasers. I’m about to board a pirate ship and fight for my life. She glanced at Spock.

  Spock looked back at her, his expression the epitome of Vulcan calm and assurance. “Ready when you are, Captain.”

  Even under their dire circumstances, Chapel smiled. It was exactly what she needed to hear. Spock never failed to amaze. With a nod she said, “Hold fast, Mister Spock.” She turned toward the open hatch. “Let’s go.”

  They made short work of the two remaining pirates, neither of whom had been ready to defend their ship from b
eing boarded. After Spock jury-rigged the docking tube to replace the destroyed port hatch and confirmed nominal life support aboard the Copernicus, they’d left all the unconscious Orions adrift aboard the shuttlecraft with an automated distress signal and a recorded warning about the passengers. With Dax aboard the faster Orion ship, they made it to the Troyval on time, even after their unexpected detour. They’d been able to contact the Troyval and confirm the new rendezvous point along the way.

  Two days after commandeering the Orion ship, Chapel and Spock finally had the chance to relax aboard the Troyval. Dax was expected to make a full recovery, in no small part due to the unorthodox treatment she had received. Chapel had felt compelled to detail her actions to the Trill physicians so that they had a complete picture of Dax’s condition as they took over her treatment. They had acknowledged their gratitude quietly and then never spoke to her again. The doctors trusted her to keep doctor-patient privilege and guard the secrets of the Trill.

  Captain Penon of the Troyval had been another matter. Called to his quarters alone, which had raised Spock’s eyebrow, Chapel had endured a prolonged grilling and scolding. She had struggled to never glance down at his abdomen, curious if he too carried a symbiont. She had finally convinced Penon that the secret was safe with her through a combination of personality and the signing of a confidential document to be kept in a special file within the Trill embassy to the United Federation of Planets in Paris. It had pained her to have to lie to Spock about this, but it was a small price to pay for keeping Dax alive and not being sent to a penal colony on Trill.

  The Troyval was currently en route to meet the Enterprise, which had delivered the delegates to the conference and then immediately turned around upon being contacted by Captain Penon. While en route, the Enterprise had retrieved the Copernicus, and it now had a brig full of pirates.

  Chapel and Spock quietly passed their remaining time aboard the Troyval in a passenger lounge. They sat beside each other in comfortable chairs, looking out a large set of ports at the stars streaming by. At least Chapel was comfortable. For about the tenth time that Chapel had noticed, Spock attempted to straighten his torn sleeve.