"This 'misunderstanding' is more fundamental than my officers' ineptness in alien contact, Mr. Lorritson. You have heard my orders. Carry them out."
"Orders!" roared Zarv. "We are not under your orders. We are…"
Lorritson and Mek Jokkor both took their ambassador aside, and the human spoke earnestly with the Tellarite for several minutes. Mek Jokkor stood to one side, appearing to take no further interest in the discussion. Kirk couldn't help but wonder at Mek Jokkor's thought processes. How did a plant relate to animal life? Did it seem silly and abrupt, or merely tolerable? There wasn't any way of finding out Not now. Perhaps later Kirk might ask, when things had returned to a more peaceful norm.
"Very well, Captain," snorted Zarv. The trio left without further ado.
"Whew," said Kirk, slumping down in his seat. "I'm glad to see the last of them for a while. Chekov, report. What condition are the phasers in?"
"Uh, sir. No one responds when I call."
"Have you taken control?"
"Of course, sir, but some switching is required. I cannot do it all from this position. Some crew need be at the station."
More abandonment of position. His crew had been more influenced by Lorelei than he'd dare admit to himself. One good round with the phasers was all he could count on. He hoped it wouldn't come to that.
"Sir?" came Uhura's sharp query. "Did you authorize use of the transporter?"
"Of course not. What's going on?"
"Zarv and his assistants just beamed down, sir. They're on the planet's surface."
The sinking feeling Kirk experienced intensified. The diplomats had disobeyed his orders.
Chapter Seven
Captain's Log, Stardate 4904.2
Spock, McCoy and four security men are imprisoned on the planet below. To make matters worse, Ambassador Zarv and his diplomatic mission beamed down to the planet without permission; the diversion of power required for this use of the transporter necessitated entirely closing down level seven. Only when we regain some measure of warp-engine power will we be able to use this area again. Contact with the civilization inhabiting the planet grows increasingly less likely. If, as Spock inferred, the natives employ a form of telepathy, there is scant chance of our success in negotiating either for the release of those imprisoned or for the shielding we so desperately need.
"Captain, I have contact with the ambassador. None took a communicator; this is a patch through the video portion of a tricorder." Uhura punched in the proper combination and the forward viewscreen scrambled, to re-form in the image of the Tellarite diplomat.
Kirk did not allow Zarv a chance to speak. He immediately said, "You beamed down without my permission. I am still captain of this starship. Prepare to beam back immediately. You are in grave danger."
"We are in no danger, Kirk. We are diplomats. We know how to contact and deal with other cultures. Unlike your blundering fools, we have established a working rapport."
Zarv turned and indicated Mek Jokkor standing on the velvety green turf, feet widespread and an expression of sheer bliss on his face. Kirk watched as the alien's features began to flow, to alter into something less human in form. Mek Jokkor returned to his natural plantlike shape, leafy hands lightly fluttering in the soft breeze blowing from the countryside toward the city.
"See? He is making good progress. While no telepath, he communicates in other nonverbal ways. We will make progress. We will obtain the release of your officers and get the materiel you need to get us on our way to Ammdon."
"You're dealing with a society totally unlike any we've found before. Spock is no fool. He wouldn't—" Kirk didn't have the chance to finish his warning. Mek Jokkor stiffened and twisted. His feet had taken root in the soil beneath the turf. Rising up to twine about his legs came brown snakes, slithering and biting. The plant man jerked and tried to pull free. The snakes circled and moved upward, sending him to his knees. No sound echoed from his mock mouth. That made the scene all the more terrible. Mek Jokkor was in terrible pain and was unable to give voice to it.
"Don't touch him, Zarv!" Kirk barked. But it was too late. The Tellarite rushed to aid his assistant, to pull free the brown bands working up Mek Jokkor's body. The instant the ambassador touched one of the snakes, the humanoids watching were galvanized into action. They seized Zarv and began dragging him off. Donald Lorritson stood openmouthed—and unharmed.
"I don't understand," Lorritson muttered into his communicator. "What's happening? Why are they attacking?"
"They haven't noticed you. Keep it that way. Prepare to beam up. I'll have the power diverted. We'll try to pick up the ambassador and Mek Jokkor later."
"I can make them listen."
"They're telepaths, Lorritson. Don't try meddling. Mek Jokkor did something to anger them. The ambassador intervened. Don't try anything that'll get you noticed by them." Of Sulu he asked, "Is power back on the transporter?"
"Sir, switching is difficult. Mr. Scott just gave me additional energy from the impulse engines for maintaining orbit. It has to be recircuited."
"Do it, dammit!"
"Aye, aye, sir."
Kirk fumed as he watched the scene unfolding on the planet below. Lorritson's tricorder continued to monitor faithfully the capture of Mek Jokkor and Zarv. The humanoids dragged the struggling pair toward the town, no doubt to be imprisoned with Spock and the others.
"Lorritson, don't! There's nothing you can do to help!" Kirk cried. The diplomat ignored him and raced for the tight knot of humanoids. The starship captain watched in helpless rage as Lorritson bodily tackled the nearest native, knocking him spinning. From out of range of the diplomat's tricorder, now discarded and on the ground, came the sounds of pounding feet. Animals mixing the worst aspects of Terran gorillas and Vegan sundevils surrounded the group.
Struggles ceased.
The last glimpse Kirk got was of Lorritson being dragged, unconscious, in the direction of the city.
"Sulu, any luck yet getting power reestablished in the transporter unit?"
"Bad luck, sir. The range-finding unit has been destroyed by a power surge during switching."
Kirk tensed, fingers clutching the armrests of his command seat. Without the range finder they'd be unable to beam up any of those on the ground who did not have communicators tuned to the proper frequency. And Spock and the others had lost their communicators, either through search or during the heat of battle. Zarv and Mek Jokkor hadn't had communicators, and Lorritson's tricorder now lay on the ground, useless for the purpose of pinpointing location.
"Any way of using the transporter without the range finder or a communicator linkup?"
"Sir," Sulu said skeptically, "if we're off the merest fraction of a nanometer, anyone in the transporter beam would be killed, their atoms jumbled up in some random pattern. The range-finder unit is vital—or they need a communicator for us to lock on to. Either one works. But to just try grabbing . . ."
Sulu didn't have to spell it out. Kirk had been railing against the fate that had put them all into this situation. He knew that the odds against a successful transport without precise range information were astronomical. One transport in trillions lacking the precision equipment might work. Maybe. But he didn't know anyone willing to take the risk at those improbable odds.
"Uhura, can you locate the communicator units on the planet?"
"Done, sir. They are all piled up just outside the city. I have it on scan now." The scene showed little of interest. The distance from orbit to planet was too great, even for their sophisticated viewscreens, to make out much detail other than that the communicators were intact. Uhura altered the focus to the corral where Spock, McCoy and the others in the first feckless landing party were penned. Zarv and his aides now added to the number. They appeared unharmed in spite of their struggles.
"They must escape that pen and get to the communicators."
"How are we going to do that, Captain?" asked Chekov.
"Ready phasers. We'll burn a hole through t
he corral, then use intermittent phaser fire to show the path to the communicators. Spock will understand. Sulu, I want all power possible shunted into the transporter when they reach the communicators."
"We barely have enough power to run the transporter and life-support systems and maintain orbit. We'll have to constantly switch back and forth between the phasers and the transporter."
"And that's what burned out the range finder." Kirk heaved a deep sigh. He knew Scotty labored like Hercules just to keep the Enterprise as functional as it was. "Tell Mr. Scott to switch on command."
"Aye, aye, sir."
Kirk gazed at the viewscreen, then ordered, "Take out the northern perimeter of the corral. Phasers, fire!"
Nothing.
"Phasers, fire! What's wrong, Chekov? Fire!"
"Sir, there is no response from phaser crews."
"Keep trying. I'll see to it personally."
He swung out of his command seat, called out, "Sulu, you have the conn," then plunged down the turbolift to the phaser deck. Lights had been cut to preserve power, and the circulating fans whined at half speed. He burst into the control center and experienced a déjà vu sensation. Again the entire area was deserted. Again his crew had abandoned their posts. This time it meant imprisonment and possible death for Spock, McCoy, the diplomats and the security team on the planet.
"Sir, please do not touch the console." Kirk spun to see several crewmen from a security team standing along the rear bulkhead. "Use of the phasers against the society below is wrong."
"Get to your posts immediately. This is a direct order! Lives will be lost if you don't obey."
"We'd like to do as you say, sir, except it means using violence. We cannot do that. Lorelei has explained it all to us."
Kirk didn't have time to argue. He turned to the panel and began priming the phaser for firing sequence. When the lights flashed ready, he hit the intercom button. "Chekov, fire! I've got the phasers set for three-second bursts."
No answer.
"Chekov?" he called. "Answer. What's happening? Fire the phasers."
"Sir," came the hesitant voice. "I will call you back in a few minutes."
Kirk sagged as if someone had hit him with a pile driver. He regained composure, turned and said, "All of you. Out of the room. Now!" To his relief and surprise, they obeyed. He seized a hand phaser from a rack on the bulkhead and herded the security team out into the corridor. He dragged shut the door and welded a quick seam, sealing it. The phaser weld would hold against all but the most diligent of efforts to get into the room and permanently disable the controls.
"Return to your quarters until further orders," Kirk said. He raced for the bridge, hoping that his worst fears weren't being acted out.
The instant he burst upon the bridge he knew command had slipped from his fingers. The small groups standing about talking he had fought against earlier had re-formed. They quietly discussed—what? He had the sinking feeling it was Lorelei's philosophical pacifism.
"Chekov, fire phasers!" he cried. Ensign Chekov turned and shook his head.
"Captain, I am sorry. Use of weapons is not the way of solving this problem."
"That's an order, mister. Carry it out."
Chekov shook his head again and left his post. Sulu joined him. To one side Lieutenant Avitts and Uhura were already speaking to each other, voices low and eyes occasionally directed toward Kirk. He stood stock-still, feeling like an island in the middle of a storm. Nowhere on the bridge were officers performing their duties.
On the viewscreen Kirk saw the corral, with Spock and the others penned inside. He jerked at the sight of one of the security team attempting to scale the thorn walls. The ensign reached the top, only to be impaled by a suddenly sprouting thorn as thick as a man's wrist. He stiffened, agony written on his face. Without sound, Kirk couldn't hear the death shrieks. The ensign toppled, only to hang lifeless from the immense thorn through his body.
This convinced Kirk that action had to be taken immediately. He dashed forward, pushing Chekov from his path. His finger stabbed down on the trigger button, but answering phaser fire didn't belch forth from the underside of the Enterprise.
"Your crew has disabled the phasers, James, in spite of your efforts to prevent it," came the soft voice. Lorelei stood in the turbolift. She walked out, graceful and childlike. But the expression on her face wasn't in the least innocent. It carried lines of worry and the burdens of a long, harsh lifetime. "I do not like doing this to you, James. Please believe me. In its way, it is aggression, but aggression without death. Your way leads only to death. Mine is softer. Pacifism is the True Path."
"Look at the viewscreen. One of my junior officers just died on that planet. Death, Lorelei, is final. He died violently when I might have prevented it. Let me blast open the thorn walls and get my crew and the diplomatic mission out. They can beam back if they reach their communicators."
"He died because he took violent action. The deadliness of his action turned against him. No, James, I cannot allow you to use the phasers against a helpless civilization."
"Lorelei, this is mutiny."
"The crew is, by your laws, in mutiny. I am not. Peace must prevail, even if it means breaking laws. There is a higher calling, and that is preservation of life. Life must take precedence over any mere man-made law."
Kirk felt the web of her words spinning about him, beguiling, warping his views. Peace was the only way. He had been wrong to order the phaser crews to action. She walked toward him, and for the first time he caught a hint of perfume from her, a fragrance that sent his head spinning. Kirk braced himself against the computer console, trying to piece together all that had happened.
Peace. War. Not war. It all jumbled together.
"I'm not a violent person," he screamed, the contradiction obvious to all on the bridge. "You're making me do this."
"You want to be peaceful, James. You can be. Put down the phaser. Working together in harmony will get us the shielding material. Peace is always the answer, not aggressive behavior."
The words hummed with vibrant power. He felt himself beginning to believe. No, more than that. He began to believe. Heart and soul convinced of Lorelei's claims, he started to believe. Until he wrenched his head to one side and saw the lifeless form of the crewman dangling from the thorn corral, the once-red blood beginning to turn black and coagulate on the thorny tip.
"NO!" he roared. The surge of anger and adrenaline pushed aside the insidious effect of Lorelei's words. "Uhura, Chekov, Sulu, listen to me. We've got to save them—save ourselves!"
"Captain, she is right," spoke Uhura, her voice soft and caressing. "There are more important pursuits than aggression." Her eyes focused at some point nearer infinity than the bridge of the Enterprise as she added, "Did you know my name means peace?"
Kirk spun and slammed his hand down. Pain lanced up into his elbow. The shock jarred his shoulder and kept away Lorelei's new onslaught of enticing words. He bolted for the turboelevator.
"James, don't. There is nowhere to run. All aboard the Enterprise now agree with me."
"I should never have let you debate Zarv. Giving you direct contact with all the crew was a mistake."
"It was not a mistake, James. It allowed me to touch everyone—enough. Peaceful existence is never a mistake. Don't fight it so. Please," she implored. "Please."
The door hissed shut. Kirk punched the controls for the engineering deck. The Enterprise lay more dead than living in orbit. What life remained in her steel hull came from Scotty's deft fingers, the way he coaxed just a bit more power from the impulse engines, the methods he used to extort energy from dying warp engines.
The warning lights had been turned off. Scotty had finally contained the radiation leakage that had made the engineering deck into a deathtrap. Kirk rushed to the door leading into the engine room and stared inside. Scotty, Chief McConel and many of the others on the engineering staff stood about, doing nothing.
"Scotty, not you, too?" he said
in dismay. "I can't do it without you. I can't."
"Sair, 'tis nae right what you're doin'. Listen to the wee lass."
Fight went out of James Kirk. He had never expected Scotty to desert him. The most loyal members of his crew turned on him and listened to Lorelei's honeyed words. He had failed to deliver Zarv and his peace mission to Ammdon. He had allowed his ship to become almost totally disabled. His friends and members of the crew were imprisoned and dying on the planet below. And now his remaining crew had turned on him, mutinying even as Spock had hinted they might.
He slumped as Scotty came to stand beside him. "Captain, you're lookin' tired. We can handle it all. We can do what is necessary."
Something snapped inside him. "No! This is my ship. I will not give up command. Not to you, not to Lorelei, not to anyone. It's my responsibility, and I will not relinquish it without a fight!"
He shoved Scotty away and turned for the door. A security team blocked his path, Lorelei in front of them.
"James," she said. "Your violence is inbred to an unimaginable degree. You are upsetting the others around you and causing them to doubt the nonviolence I have taught them."
"You've brainwashed them. I don't know how, but you've turned them against me, against the Federation. They have mutinied."
"They've become more in tune with the universe around them. Rather than fighting, they merge and become unified. There is no conflict when you are part of a greater whole. There cannot be."
Kirk whipped up his phaser, but he was too late. The last he heard was Lorelei's sad words, "You're only stunned. Even this violence pains me, but it is necessary to prevent further violence."
The tingling phaser stun beam seized control of his nerves. He twitched once, then crumpled to the deck, unconscious.
From the distance came the whistle of wind through trees. A dripping noise triggered old and almost forgotten memories in Jim Kirk's mind: rain falling from leaves. He felt as if his body had rejected him; the pain lashed at his senses and forced reality upon him. He groaned and rolled over. Sunlight, warm and comforting, bathed his face. Blinking at the unexpected light, he shielded his eyes with an uplifted hand, then struggled to sit upright. Beneath him freshly fallen leaves crushed moistly and fragrantly, and the neatly cropped turf he had seen from the bridge of the Enterprise flowed like a liquid beneath his palms.
Mutiny on the Enterprise Page 9
