Star Trek: The Original Series - 161 - Savage Trade

by Tony Daniel

  “A Vulcan!” said Franklin. “How delightful! I have yet to meet one of your . . . people . . . sir. I hope you do not take offense at my ignorant questions, but is it true that Vulcans depend on logic for—well, everything?”

  “It is, Doctor Franklin,” Spock replied. “We find it meets all of our needs and satisfies all of our expectations for experiencing a full life.”

  “Absolutely! Wonderful! I have long imagined such a state of being. In fact I wrote about it once and lamented its absence from human affairs.”

  “You are one of the humans who have come close to achieving such a state. I have great respect for you and what you accomplished, sir.”

  Was Spock capable of being ironic? Kirk considered the possibility for a moment, then dismissed it. No, Spock was genuinely impressed, even though this must be only a simulated Franklin.

  Franklin smiled and waved a dismissing hand. “Hardly, Mister Spock. I am as driven by sentiment and whim as the next man. But I do admire the exercise of pure reason in others. Just as an investment in knowledge always pays the best interest, if all of us engaged in logical thinking, I have long thought the world would be a happier place.”

  “We are in agreement, Doctor Franklin.”

  “I fear we differ in one aspect, however. I believe one must take men as they are, not as we wish them to be. If you would persuade, you must appeal to interest rather than intellect.”

  “I believe you are correct, Doctor Franklin,” Spock replied, “as far as humans go.”

  Franklin smiled, his eyes twinkling over his reading spectacles. “I look forward to a good chat with you, Mister Spock. Is it true you play this odd variant I’ve encountered of one of my favorite pastimes?”

  “Three-dimensional chess?” asked Spock.

  “Yes, yes. That’s what it is called. I could certainly use further instruction from an expert, and I understand from your Mister Sulu that you fit the bill in that regard. I had been teaching myself this game at the outpost, when my studies were so rudely interrupted by those marauders. I was close to beating myself with a delightfully wicked move when one of those pirates stepped in and held a weapon to my chest. I’m afraid I will never forgive the fellow for the disruption . . . may his, her, or its soul find rest. President Washington later did for the creature with a single musket shot.”

  “I would be grateful for the chance to play you, sir,” Spock replied. “Perhaps at that time you might also enlighten me as to how Mister Washington retained a musket pistol and a sword when he was taken aboard the L’rah’hane vessel, and you a walking cane.”

  Franklin smiled his wan, benevolent smile. “That will require some explanation, won’t it? I hope we can provide it. And it will be a pleasure to engage with such a worthy maestro of that delightful game. I shall be available at your earliest convenience.”

  “I look forward to it,” said Spock.

  When Franklin strode off to his outpost quarters, Kirk gave his first officer an inquisitive look.

  Spock raised his eyebrows. “A sign of respect, Captain, no dissembling intended. As my previous encounter with the reproduction of Surak taught me, even a simulacrum of a man such as Benjamin Franklin is due it.”

  Kirk nodded. True enough.

  Sulu remained on the L’rah’hane vessel for the time being, along with a skeleton crew from the Enterprise. Kirk had ordered it swept for any hidden smuggling compartments, hidden weaponry—or any other modification. This was a pirate ship, after all.

  Plus, he did not trust the Excalbians. These “people” were, after all, a highly advanced species with unknown capabilities and a very questionable history.

  Finally, all outpost personnel and Excalbians were back on the planet surface, and Kirk turned to his assembled senior officers. “The Enterprise will be staying in orbit until I hear from Starfleet. During that time, I want you to have a close look at these personages, these Excalbians. Don’t get in the way of the outpost personnel, but let’s get some answers.”

  Kirk’s communicator beeped.

  “Dismissed,” Kirk quickly said to his officers, motioning to them that they could go about their business. He retrieved the communicator and flipped it open.

  “Enterprise, Kirk here. Go ahead.”

  “Captain, we have inbound Federation craft. It’s the Montana.”

  The Montana? That was an Archer-class ship, smaller then the Enterprise. What’s more, Kirk knew that the Montana was a vessel designated specifically for transporting high Federation officials. It had a reputation among Starfleet officers. Assignment to the ship as captain was considered an honor, but also guaranteed a stretch of service time filled with complete boredom. Most Starfleet captains tried to avoid it as they would the Rigelian fever.

  “Establish secure communication channels with the Montana, Mister Leslie,” Kirk replied. “Beam me up.”

  Seven

  As much as Spock may want to play a three-dimensional chess game with Benjamin Franklin, Kirk had a feeling he might need his first officer on the bridge with him when the Montana arrived. Spock’s effortless recall of Federation official protocol would be useful. Introduction to Starfleet Etiquette and Protocol had been one class at the Academy Kirk had been very glad to be done with.

  “Captain Haynes hailing from the Montana, sir,” said Uhura.

  “Put him on the screen, Lieutenant.”

  Haynes was an older man, lean and tall, with a full shock of black hair graying at the temples. He had a long face and was craggy and handsome. In every way, he looked the part of Starfleet captain. However, Kirk knew of his reputation.

  Haynes was known as “Showboat Haynes.” He’d been passed up several times for promotion and was known to take out his frustrations on his subordinates. Nevertheless, he had commanded an outstanding voyage of discovery to the Nefertiti Sector and had by all accounts been a brave leader and inspiration to his crew.

  Kirk only hoped that whatever had led to Haynes’s bitter later years did not overtake himself. In his heart, though, he knew it never would. Not with a universe out there to explore, friendships to make and hold, beautiful women to gaze upon (and engage with), and determined enemies with which to contend.

  “Captain Haynes, welcome to the Gibraltar system,” Kirk said. “I take it you’ve been sent to relieve the Enterprise?”

  “Thank you for your welcome, Captain Kirk,” Haynes replied. His voice was surprisingly high-pitched, coming from such a craggy visage. “No, we are not here as a relief vessel. We are on a Federation diplomatic mission. We are traveling with a Federation Council–appointed special representative and diplomat-at-large. I’m to deliver her safely and then await further orders from Starfleet.”

  “A diplomat? To whom? The L’rah’hane?”

  “To the special charges being studied at Zeta Gibraltar, Captain,” Haynes replied. “I can’t say any more at present. Federation Special Representative Valek will explain.”

  “Valek? A Vulcan,” Kirk mused.

  “Captain Haynes, the L’rah’hane pirates have reemerged after a generation. We are analyzing their vessels’ computers for evidence that a fragment of the Hradrian Empire might still exist somewhere beyond the Vara Nebula. This is a situation with security concerns that must be dealt with. This outpost is at risk.”

  Haynes nodded. “I understand, Captain Kirk.” He shrugged. “I’m afraid I have no say in the matter, however. I’m awaiting further instructions for the Montana, but I do have an order for you.”

  “And what is it?”

  “Cooperate with the representative,” Haynes replied. “That comes directly from Admiral Howe. He was quite adamant that I emphasize the word cooperate to you. Use your discretion, but do all you can to support Representative Valek. She has been given plenipotentiary power over the Gibraltar system for the time being.”

  Plenipotentiary. That was Federation ambassadorial slang for “next thing to a dictator.” The entire system would be not only under her command, but also subj
ect to her judicial and rule-making decrees.

  “With pirates still out there, Enterprise is on garrison duty,” Kirk said with a sigh.

  “It’s not so bad, Kirk,” Haynes replied. Then he spoke in a lowered voice, as if talking to himself. “Less likely to get crewmembers killed.”

  Maybe that is the clue to the bitterness of old Showboat, Kirk thought. He’s seen enough death. Kirk felt a great deal more empathy for his counterpart than he had before.

  “Very well, Captain Haynes. I understand my orders.”

  “Kirk, this is one Federation administrator you don’t want to cross,” said Haynes. “She’s a Vulcan, and she’s a tiger about getting her way.”

  A whistled alert from Haynes’s command chair was followed by a curt message delivered in an alto female voice. “Captain Haynes, I am in the transporter room waiting. I should have been beamed to the planetoid five minutes ago. Have your crewman obey my orders.”

  Haynes touched a button. “Chief McGillicuty?”

  “Aye, Captain?”

  “You have my go-ahead to beam Representative Valek to Zeta Gibraltar.”

  “Gladly, sir . . . I mean, right away, sir.”

  “Captain Haynes,” came the commanding voice again, “have the Enterprise captain meet me on the planetoid at 1330.”

  “I’ll see what I can do, Representative Valek. Starfleet captains can be tricky to order around like toy soldiers.”

  Kirk glanced at the bridge chrono. A half hour from now. Apparently, Representative Valek liked to move fast.

  “I do not see the problem, Captain Haynes,” the voice said. “The lines of command are clear. My order is clear. I hope I will not have to invoke Federation Order 1123G in this matter?”

  “I expect not,” Haynes replied.

  “Very well,” the other replied, then, after a pause: “Thank you for your cooperation. Valek out.”

  Haynes turned back to the screen. “Good luck, Captain. Maybe you can handle her. Meanwhile, I’ll be here in orbit. Very peaceful here in orbit.” He smiled an ironic smile. “Montana out.”

  The feed was cut, and the viewscreen flashed back to an image of the planetoid below.

  Kirk turned to Spock and motioned toward the turbolift entrance. “Commander Spock, shall we prepare to beam down and, it seems, meet our fate?”

  Spock raised an eyebrow and replied, “Indeed. Captain, I believe I am aquainted with Representative Valek,”

  “Oh? Who is she?”

  “She is someone I knew during my childhood,” Spock said. “More pertinently, I believe that, at present, she works with Sarek, my father.”

  Kirk cracked a smile. “This is getting more interesting. Now I truly do want to meet Representative Valek. Come on.”

  * * *

  Kirk stepped onto the Enterprise transporter pad considering how he was going to clearly and logically express his displeasure for keeping a Starfleet captain in the dark about a key piece of information involved with a crucial mission.

  “Energize,” he ordered. As always, there was no sensation of dematerialization. One moment he was on the Enterprise, the next . . . and there she was.

  Any angry words died on Kirk’s tongue.

  She was Vulcan, all right. And she was beautiful.

  “Greetings, Captain,” Valek said. She raised her hand in the Vulcan salute. “Live long and prosper.”

  “Peace and long life,” said Spock.

  Kirk and Spock stepped down from the transporter. Valek stood next to Commander Contreras, who was a good ten centimeters shorter than the Vulcan. Contreras’s utilitarian garb also contrasted with that of the representative. Valek wore traditional Vulcan dress made of a shimmering blue-black material that made her appear to be an icy empress visiting from some remote mountain kingdom.

  “It has been a long time, Spock,” Valek replied. “Your father and mother send greetings.”

  “Please deliver my own when next you see them,” Spock replied.

  How about that, thought Kirk. For once, a Vulcan expression he’d heard often entirely fit the current exchange: fascinating.

  “I trust your brother prospers,” Spock said.

  “Varen has been appointed by the Science Academy as a tenured researcher on vertebrate extremophiles. He is doing groundbreaking work off-planet at the moment.”

  “Given Varen’s considerable intellectual gifts, a wise choice and logical posting on the part of the Academy,” Spock replied.

  “Indeed,” said Valek. She turned to Kirk. “You must forgive our extraneous conversation, Captain. Spock and I have previous acquaintance.”

  “No, no problem at all,” said Kirk. “Please take the time you need.”

  When do I ever get to hear such . . . intimate details of Spock’s earlier history? Never.

  “The Varen of whom we speak, Captain, is Valek’s twin brother,” Spock said.

  “I’ve never heard of Vulcans having twins,” Kirk said.

  “It is an uncommon occurrence among Vulcans,” Valek put in. “Spock and Varen were laboratory partners during their childhood educational period.”

  “We were friends,” Spock explained.

  Valek turned her icy attention back to Spock. “You have been a long time among humans, Spock.”

  Spock ignored the jibe, if jibe it was. Kirk knew both Vulcans would deny that Valek’s words had any emotional content. They were merely a statement of the obvious.

  “Your brother was fortunate in his choice of Spock for a companion,” Kirk said.

  “Perhaps you are correct,” Valek replied. Spock said nothing in reply. After an uncomfortable silence—uncomfortable, at least, for Kirk—Valek spoke again. “Captain Kirk, you, Commander Contreras, and I have much to discuss, and most of it is of a classified nature. Can we adjourn alone to a secure conference room so that I can deliver your instructions?”

  Kirk glanced at Spock, who quirked up an eyebrow in response.

  So that’s the way this is going to be, Kirk thought. Well then, the hell with diplomacy.

  “I’ll be happy to hear what you have to say, Representative Valek. And Commander Spock will also join us as my second-in-command,” Kirk replied.

  “Captain, I cannot permit that.”

  “Representative, you may have civilian plenipotentiary power, but in times of emergency, a Starfleet officer responding to that emergency shares undisputed authority with any civilian. I hope we’re clear on that.”

  “I was not aware we were in a declared emergency zone under Section R of the administrative code.”

  “I believe you will find that the conditions for such a declaration are met, Representative Valek,” Spock put in. “Subparagraph three point two deals with circumstances of clear and present danger immediately following an emergency action, police response, or military engagement. I believe the present situation meets two of the criteria and any one is necessary and sufficient to constitute a de facto emergency zone declaration.”

  Valek stared at Spock, then looked away and took a moment to consider. She turned her gaze back toward Kirk. They locked eyes for a moment. Kirk did not break eye contact, and neither did she.

  Her expression did not change, but after a moment she nodded. “A logical arrangement to include a trusted aid,” she finally said. “Commander Spock may accompany us.”

  “All right,” Kirk said.

  Contreras let out of sigh of released tension. “If we’re done staking out territory, I believe the outpost conference room will serve our purposes.”

  Kirk finally looked away from Valek. He smiled at Contreras, nodded. “Certainly. Lead the way, Commander.”

  Kirk dropped behind a few steps and allowed Valek and Contreras to walk ahead. He had thought to give Spock a bit of room to speak alone with the representative, but instead Spock also dropped back to walk beside Kirk. Fair enough, he could use the time to pump his first officer for further information. He had a feeling he was about to need a bit of leverage.

 
; “How does she know Sarek and Amanda, Spock?” Kirk asked.

  “She trained under my father,” said Spock. “She now works for him as a . . . the term is imprecise, but I believe you might call her a ‘diplomatic troubleshooter.’ ”

  “She’s a protégé of Sarek’s?”

  “Correct.”

  “You don’t like her.”

  “ ‘Like’ has nothing to do with it, Captain. She once publicly spoke against my father and mother’s union.”

  “On what she considered a completely logical basis, I’m sure,” Kirk said.

  “Her logic was mistaken.”

  “I see.”

  “At the time, Varen opposed her and pointed out key flaws in her argumentation.”

  “How old were you when this happened?” Kirk asked.

  “Ten point five standard years of age.”

  “She was just a child.”

  “It is different on Vulcan,” Spock said. “Childhood is quite stimulating, but less . . . playful.”

  “She grew up to be one of your father’s favorites, while you and Sarek have over the years had . . . differences of interpretation concerning what it means to be a Vulcan.”

  “I might phrase it in a different manner—Sarek’s choices are always motivated by logical considerations; he does not ‘play favorites.’ Yet your point is essentially correct. You must understand, however, that I bear Valek no ill will.”

  You may not, but I’m already starting to dislike her, Kirk thought. But it looks like both of us are going to have to work with her, all the same.

  They arrived at the conference room, and after a DNA scan of Contreras, were admitted.

  Valek wanted secure. It looked like Contreras had pulled out the stops to give it to her.

  Before anyone sat down at the conference room table, Valek turned to them and caught everyone’s attention with a slight bow of her head, indicating she had something she wished to say.

  “I apologize if my tone seemed imperious in the transporter room, Captain, and with you when I beamed down earlier, Commander,” Valek said. “I felt it would be useful to establish our mutual credentials so that our task may proceed. I am aware that humans do not always take blunt statements well. They read emotional nuances into such pronouncements that are not intended.”