Star Trek: The Original Series - 160 - Foul Deeds Will Rise

by Greg Cox

  To his relief, the shuttlecraft soon came swooping into sight. Deftly steering a course between the totaled buildings, the Copernicus touched down on the plaza. Its aft hatchway dropped open, forming a ramp, and the hostages rushed aboard. The shuttle had limited seating, but its lifting capacity was such that Kirk wasn’t worried about overloading it. They were going to be crammed in like sardines, but it was doable.

  But what about Jorgaht? The Horta could presumably contain his corrosive secretions, making it safe to rub shoulders with him, but he was still going to take up a lot of valuable room. Kirk briefly considered strapping Jorgaht to the roof of the shuttle; Hortas had been known to survive the vacuum of space for considerable periods.

  “Don’t worry about me,” Jorgaht said, as though reading Kirk’s mind. “I can burrow so deep those rioters will never find me.”

  Kirk appreciated the offer. “But you could get trapped here for who knows how long.”

  “I’m in no hurry and there’s plenty of good minerals to eat down below. I’ll show myself again when the political situation has calmed down a bit—and you can negotiate my departure with the legitimate authorities, instead of an anarchic mob.” He chuckled via the translator. “I like to think there are still some sensible people to deal with on this planet.”

  He has a point, Kirk thought. Jorgaht was in no immediate danger and the protesters were hardly the official government of Oyolo. Riley could probably arrange for Jorgaht to be recovered later, under somewhat less desperate circumstances, assuming they could prevent a full-scale war from breaking out in the meantime.

  “All right.” Kirk peeled the viridium patch from his uniform and affixed it to the Horta’s communicator. “This will allow us to track you if necessary. Take care . . . and thank you!”

  “ ‘What stronger breastplate than a heart untainted! Thrice is he armed who hath his quarrel just!’ ” the Horta emoted. “Now go, before those ruffians catch up with you.”

  Kirk couldn’t argue with that. They were pushing their luck the longer they stayed on the planet. He hurried aboard the Copernicus, claiming the shotgun seat next to Sulu. He glanced back over his shoulder at the rescuers and rescued packed into the passenger cabin. They all looked very uncomfortable, but nobody was complaining.

  “Everybody aboard and accounted for?” he called out.

  “Aye, Captain,” Chekov responded. “And I believe we are all eager to depart.”

  “And then some,” Banks added, “sir.”

  That was all Kirk needed to hear. “Get us out of here, Mister Sulu.”

  “Aye, sir.” Sulu called back to the passengers, “Hold on tight.”

  He engaged the thrusters and the Copernicus lifted off into the sky. Peering down through the forward port, Kirk saw Jorgaht disappear back into the planet’s depths. He would be safe if he stayed far underground, deep beneath the planet’s crust. Kirk vowed silently to see to it that the valiant Horta made it off Oyolo eventually.

  We couldn’t have escaped without him.

  Not that they were out of the woods yet. Gravity and acceleration shoved Kirk back into his seat as the shuttlecraft climbed steeply toward the upper atmosphere. Grunts of discomfort escaped the cabin as the crammed passengers were thrown against one another. Kirk winced on their behalf, but he figured it could be worse. At least they weren’t being held hostage anymore.

  “You in a hurry, Mister Sulu?” Kirk asked, noting the steepness of their ascent.

  “With reason, Captain.”

  He adjusted the frequency on the shuttle’s communications panel. A harsh voice invaded the cockpit:

  “Oyolu Air Command to unauthorized Starfleet craft. This is your final warning: Land at once . . . or we will shoot you down!”

  “There’s been some concern about our presence in their airspace,” Sulu explained. “I may have somehow failed to acknowledge their earlier warnings.”

  “So I gather.”

  Kirk had to wonder who exactly was issuing the threats. The actual Oyolu government or just an element of the planet’s air defense force that was sympathetic to the protesters’ cause? Not that it really mattered at this juncture; Kirk was not about to trust the hostages or his people to the tender mercies of the Oyolu, who were still justifiably worked up over A’Barra’s assassination—and who probably weren’t going to look kindly on tonight’s covert invasion of their sovereignty. When it came to smoothing things out with the Oyolu authorities, Kirk preferred to do so from the bridge of the Enterprise and not from an Oyolu holding cell.

  Annunciator lights flashed crimson on the control panel before him. Threat sensors detected a battery of surface-to-air weapons locking onto the Copernicus. It seemed that the Oyolu had not just been idly rattling their sabers.

  “Incoming!” he said urgently. “Maximum shields.”

  The command came naturally to his lips, even as he operated the controls himself, dialing up the deflectors to full strength, and none too soon. The energy beams slammed into Copernicus’s shields, buffeting the shuttlecraft so that it rocked violently from side to side. Passengers screamed as they were tossed about the cabin and into one another, cushioned somewhat by just how tightly they were packed. Kirk was glad that Jorgaht had stayed behind; a massive Horta bouncing around the cabin like a loose boulder could have broken bones.

  Emergency alarms lit up the control panel. The deflectors had repelled the initial barrage, but at a cost. The shields were already down by approximately thirty percent and Copernicus had taken a beating. Auxiliary systems kicked in to compensate for the damage, but Kirk knew there was a limit to how much the embattled shuttlecraft could endure.

  “Evasive action, Mister Sulu!”

  “Yes, sir. Way ahead of you, sir!”

  Copernicus banked sharply to one side, momentarily escaping the phaser assault. Sulu rolled the shuttle over so that its impulse engines and warp nacelles were turned away from ground-based phaser cannons. Loose articles, including a data slate and an empty coffee cup, tumbled from the floor of the cockpit onto the ceiling and Kirk felt his stomach turn upside-down as well. He was suddenly grateful for his mandatory anti-gravity training.

  “Enterprise to Copernicus!” Uhura’s voice came over an emergency channel. “The Oyolu have mustered air support to bring you down. A flight of warcraft are heading your way.”

  “Acknowledged,” Kirk responded. “Thanks for the heads-up.”

  He and Sulu exchanged worried looks. Kirk found himself missing that Klingon bird-of-prey they had commandeered a few years ago. A cloaking device would come in handy right now.

  “Here they come,” Kirk said. The hostile craft appeared on the tactical display screen as a formation of flashing red icons. “I’m reading charged weapons banks and a battery of air-to-air missiles. Estimated contact: fifteen seconds.”

  Sulu grimaced. “You sure I can’t discourage them with our phasers?”

  “I’m not sure Ambassador Riley would approve.”

  “I was afraid you were going to say that.” Sulu sighed. “Flight not fight then.” He took a deep breath. “Brace yourself, everyone! Next stop: Enterprise!”

  Sulu red-lined the Copernicus, accelerating at nearly full impulse out of Oyolo’s atmosphere. The g-forces, testing the limits of the shuttle’s inertial dampers, were comparable to those of an old-style NASA rocket blasting off from the Earth, and Kirk hoped again that the passengers were tightly packed enough to cushion one another. Friction with the atmosphere caused the deflectors to glow brightly red outside the hull; even still, Kirk thought he could feel the interior of the shuttle getting uncomfortably warm for a few moments, before the last misty traces of the atmosphere gave way to the blackness of space. Sulu didn’t slow down until they were safely beyond the planet’s orbit and heading back into the demilitarized buffer zone. Kirk hoped that the Oyolu military would not be so rash as to pursue the
shuttle beyond their borders.

  “That was quite the getaway,” Kirk praised Sulu, after he got his breath back. “I’m glad we had you at the helm.”

  “My pleasure, sir.”

  Kirk knew that Sulu was up for promotion to captain and would probably get his own ship soon. There was even talk of him taking command of the Excelsior in the near future.

  I’m going to be sorry to lose him.

  Doctor Tamris forced her way through the crowded passenger cabin to the rear of the cockpit. Her blue skin looked faintly green, but she managed a smile anyway. Kirk could only imagine how relieved she was to have her people out of danger. Finding quarters for all the rescued relief workers was going to be a bit of a challenge, but he was sure the Enterprise could accommodate them.

  “Now can I thank you?” she asked.

  Kirk smiled back at her. “You’re welcome.”

  At some point he would have to inform Tamris that Lenore was indeed a suspect in the murder investigation, but that could wait until the former hostages were safely aboard the ship. Kirk’s smile faded as he recalled that, although the hostage crisis had been resolved, the larger issue of the assassinations remained, not to mention the matter of that missing warhead. He had a lot waiting for him back on the Enterprise.

  Meanwhile, he overheard McCoy checking on Chekov and Banks back in the passenger cabin. “The two of you both in one piece? Those hooligans didn’t rough you up too badly, did they?”

  “We are quite well, Doctor,” Chekov said. “Which is something of a pleasant surprise.”

  “Don’t I know it,” McCoy said. “That reminds me, Chekov. The test results came back and I found out what was causing your sneezing fits. Turns out that . . .”

  Kirk listened with interest.

  Twenty-Two

  “So, it seems we could be worse off, Mister Spock,” Scotty said. “We could be one of those poor souls on Oyolo.”

  The hostage crisis on the other planet dominated the news reports on Pavak, where local pundits and authorities were already threatening vague repercussions should Kirk give in to the demands of the Oyolu “terrorists” and deliver Lenore Karidian to their enemy. Needless to say, the seizure of the refugee workers was also being cited by the more bellicose end of the Pavakian political spectrum as proof that the Oyolu were violent barbarians who could never be trusted. Never mind, Spock mused, that he and Scott were essentially being held hostage as well, albeit under less harsh and hazardous conditions. That the unruly crowd outside the fort continued to grow made him wonder just how different their situation truly was from that of the unfortunate captives on Oyolo.

  “We may well find ourselves in similar straits soon,” Spock said, “if this crisis continues to escalate.”

  “Aye, it looks that way all right.” Scott glumly observed images of the occupied refugee camp. Reports were that at least fifteen volunteers had been taken hostage. “What do ye think the captain will do?”

  Spock regretted that he was not aboard the Enterprise to render assistance, but he trusted Captain Kirk to deal with this crisis in their absence. The Enterprise could function without him. Indeed, by all reports, they had fared quite successfully during the brief period that he was deceased . . . aside from losing the first Enterprise, of course.

  “If I know the captain, he is already planning a rescue mission. Indeed, I would not be surprised to learn that it was already under way.”

  Scott nodded, seemingly buoyed by the notion. “With Captain Kirk leading the way, no doubt.”

  “And Doctor McCoy registering his extreme disapproval of whatever may be transpiring,” Spock added. “Or so I would theorize with a significant degree of confidence.”

  Pogg arrived without warning. A stony expression offered little hint of his decision until the door slid shut behind him.

  “There is no time to lose,” he said tersely. “Put on your jackets and play along.” Allowing them only moments to dress for outdoors, he cuffed their wrists with pliable restraints, drew his disruptor, and marched them toward the door, which opened before them. “Keep moving,” he said loudly, presumably for the benefit of the guard posted outside in the hall. “Don’t give me any trouble.”

  The guard gave them a puzzled look. “Brigadier-General?”

  “We have received new orders,” Pogg stated. “The prisoners are to be transported to a more secure site.”

  “More secure?” the guard said. “I don’t understand.”

  “Are you questioning me, soldier? This decision was made well above your rank. You don’t need to understand it. You just need to do as you’re told.”

  “Yes, sir!” The abashed guard saluted crisply. “My apologies, sir!”

  Pogg returned the salute. “Remain at your post. The prisoners’ effects are to remain undisturbed until they can be collected and examined.”

  “Yes, sir! You can count on me, sir!”

  Spock found himself indebted to Pavakian military discipline as Pogg briskly escorted them from the barracks to the landing field, where the Galileo remained just where they had left it. Night had fallen on Pavak and the temperature had plummeted even farther. The cold stung Spock’s face and frosted his breath. He decided that he was ready to depart Pavak.

  Should that prove possible.

  Pogg pulled rank as necessary to speed their escape, but one last guard stood between them and the shuttlecraft. She glared at Spock and Scotty with obvious enmity; clearly, she was among those who blamed Starfleet for General Tem’s assassination.

  “Stand aside, Private,” Pogg ordered. “New orders. I’m transporting the prisoners to a more secure location.”

  “In their own spacecraft?”

  “That is not your call, soldier. You have your orders.”

  Alas, this particular guard was not as easily cowed as the one back at the barracks. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously and she raised her wrist-communicator toward her lips. “I’m sorry, sir, but I need to verify this before I can let you through.” Her other hand held a weapon. “Please lower your weapon, sir.”

  Pogg’s disruptor was still drawn and pointed at his “prisoners.” He turned it toward the guard. “After you, Private.”

  “It appears we have something of a standoff,” Scott said. “If ye don’t mind, I’ll just step to one side, out of the line of fire.”

  “An excellent idea, Mister Scott.” Spock began to step to the opposite side. He held up his bound wrists to indicate that he posed no threat. “Perhaps we can settle this misunderstanding in a peaceful fashion.”

  “Wait!” The guard’s anxious gaze darted from side to side, struggling to keep track of all three men, while keeping her weapon aimed at Pogg. “Everybody, stay put!”

  “Don’t mind me, lass,” Scott replied. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  Spock took advantage of the guard’s distracted state to effortlessly snap his cuffs and advance on her from the side. A nerve pinch swiftly and efficiently dealt with the situation—and spared Pogg the necessity of firing on one of his own soldiers.

  Nevertheless, Pogg stared numbly at the stunned form on the tarmac.

  “We couldn’t let her call in,” he murmured. “There are no new orders . . .”

  Spock had already deduced as much. He appreciated the other man’s distress, but he knew that time was of the essence. “We must hurry, Brigadier-General.”

  “Yes, of course,” Pogg said, roused from his bitter contemplation of the fallen guard. He hastily removed Scott’s cuffs as well. “It’s only a matter of time before my ruse is discovered.”

  Scott entered an access code to open the Galileo’s starboard hatchway and the men hurried aboard the shuttlecraft. Scott sat down at the helm and fired up the engines with admirable speed, while Pogg took the co-pilot’s seat and activated the comm unit.

  “This is Brigadier-General Po
gg,” he ordered. “Lower the defensive force field immediately.”

  A confused voice responded. “Sir?”

  Pogg repeated his fabricated new orders and added an embellishment to forestall any objections. “We have reason to believe that Kirk has mounted an operation to remove the Starfleet inspectors from our custody. It is imperative that they be transferred from this facility immediately.”

  “But . . .”

  “Did you hear me, mister? Lower the shields!”

  “Yes, sir!”

  Scott kept a close eye on a display panel. “Shields down,” he confirmed.

  “Then I suggest we depart without delay,” Spock said.

  “You don’t need to tell me twice, Mister Spock!”

  Scott engaged the thrusters and Galileo took off into the cold night sky. Spock strapped himself into a passenger seat just behind the cockpit as the shuttle cleared the shields. Pogg’s ruse had gotten them this far, but Spock had not forgotten the phaser cannons in place around the fort. The shuttle was not, as they said, free and clear just yet. Their attempt at flight might end as quickly as it had begun once the unauthorized nature of their departure was determined.

  For a moment, it appeared that they might make their escape without further complications, but then a stentorian voice blared from the cockpit.

  “Galileo! You are ordered to return to Fort Dakkur immediately. Failure to comply will carry severe consequences.”

  Scott cursed under his breath. “Sounds like they’re onto us, sir. I don’t suppose ye have any other tricks up your sleeve?”

  “Just one.” Pogg swallowed hard before speaking into the comm. “This is Pogg. I have been taken hostage by the prisoners. Hold your fire. I repeat: Hold your fire!”

  Spock admired Pogg’s creative mendacity, which bore favorable comparison to Captain Kirk’s. “Let us hope that they value your safety more than our captivity.”

  “They might not,” Pogg admitted, “but at least this might give them pause . . . long enough for us to keep from being shot down.”

  “Galileo. Surrender at once.”