"Kirk, Spock, McCoy. Scotty and Chekov. A young helmsman just out of the Academy. And me. We came up here on our own. Don't even have a Starfleet starship. Came in a luxury tub."
The room was quiet. The disappointment was palpable.
"There are three Starfleet Starships standing by, however," she added quickly.
"But the Federation prefers to avoid setting off an intergalactic conflagration," Dr. Hans said quietly. "And they are unwilling to negotiate with blackmailers. So they negotiate without negotiating. And we are caught in this lethargic process."
"I'm sure they're making some progress," Uhura said encouragingly.
Suddenly the door opened and four of the armed guards came in. They took Uhura by the arms and hustled her out.
"Say hello to Captain Kirk," Sulu said, as the door was slammed closed behind her.
Uhura's guards hustled her between the high-stacked transport containers. She counted the turns and memorized them as well as she could. Then she saw a door ahead, and it popped open. She saw a flash of light, and a round, dome-topped building on the horizon. She was hurried through the door and pushed immediately into the waiting shuttle. The hatch closed, and she felt the shuttle lift off.
A Beta Promethean voice spoke. Taras translated.
"He says to tell Captain Kirk that your friends are all right. But to tell him that they will be turned over to the Shrewdest Ones unless he supplies the merchandise we have discussed."
A ten-minute journey brought her back to the dock of the starbase. Taras helped her out onto the dock.
"Here we are," Taras said. Spock was sitting on an unused freight container. He rose and came right over to them.
"You are all right?" he said.
"Fine," she said. "They took me to see Sulu and the crew."
"Excellent news. How are they?"
"They all seem okay. Tired and very tense. Particularly since I couldn't give them much news."
"All right, there is not much more we can do here. We must report back to Captain Kirk. Taras, I want to thank you for making this contact for us. I wish I could say I knew what we shall do, but I do not as yet."
"I am at your service. I shall stay here on 499."
Together they walked across the empty hall and down the corridor. They got into the turbolift.
"Taras," Mr. Spock said. "You are part Beta Promethean. What do you think of all this?"
Taras's usually accommodating face went somber.
"That is difficult to say. These pirates have found themselves with a commodity that will be difficult to barter. They had certainly expected a quick trade of some sort, but they underestimated the position of the Federation. They are now as stuck as you are. If they simply release them, they will look like fools by the standards of a Promethean trader's code."
Spock thought about this. "And you?"
"Me?" Taras said.
"Where, if I may ask, are your allegiances?"
"I am no more than a middleman, Mr. Spock. I am fortunate enough to be able to speak to Maldari and his pirates. I would not say they trust me, but they will communicate with me out of necessity."
"Usually middlemen take a percentage of the profits," Spock said.
"Usually they do." Taras smiled. The door slid open.
"Here is my level. Please let me know how you wish to proceed. I will be on the rec deck." And the door slid shut between them.
"Now we know he isn't in this out of loyalty to his human ancestry," Uhura said.
"No, he is not," Spock said. "I suspected that. I wanted to be clear on where we stand."
"And where is that?" Uhura asked.
"We cannot trust anyone," Spock said.
"There's one thing I didn't tell you, however, Mr. Spock," Uhura said as the crew of the Plush Princess gathered on the lounge deck. "I got a glimpse of the building. I didn't want to say so in front of Taras, because I wasn't sure he ought to know that."
"Excellent reasoning, Uhura. Do you think you could identify it?"
"If I saw that side of the building again, I might be able to recognize it. It depends on how many buildings look alike on Beta Prometheus. But there's a few other things. When I was going in, I managed to look up. The next highest building behind the warehouse had a domed roof of some sort."
"That's one of their Conclave Halls. They're religious buildings. There are quite a few of them. Still, that is useful."
"And coming out, I did the same thing. I tried to take a bearing. The only thing I could see was a tall tower."
"You mean, like a tall building, a skyscraper?" Kirk asked.
"No, some kind of communications tower. Very narrow, and only antennas at the top. It was the tallest thing by far on the horizon, facing that way. It was about thirty degrees to the left of straight ahead. That's all I saw, I'm afraid. It's not much."
"On the contrary," Spock said. "It could be a great deal, as any good navigator knows. Correct, Mr. Chekov?"
"Correct, Mr. Spock." Chekov smiled at Uhura. "Vith any two points, I ought to be able to plot the third. It is a simple question of geometry. I'd bet ve could now find the prison vhen ve need to."
"Many Klingons," Sencus said evenly, "certainly would like to see tensions escalate between the Federation and Beta Prometheus." Kirk and Spock sat quietly on the bridge of the Excelsior, listening to Sencus. "It is undoubtedly the same political faction which last year was behind the Gorkon assassination and against the peace process. The Clerics have a different agenda. They want to replace the Ruling Family and install a completely theocratic state, with themselves at the head. Anything that weakens the family could encourage this. Thus for the time being these two factions have found a common cause, much to the regret of the Ruling Family, which is under increasing pressure from the right. The family could mitigate the growing resentment by allowing more of the dilithium profits to filter through to society, but capitalism like that goes hand in hand with democracy and freedom, which could in turn seriously erode the Ruling Family's hold on power.
"Also, the Ruling Family doesn't know if they could force the pirates to behave without sending government troops in. That could push public opinion in favor of the Clerics. Thus the pirates find themselves in an untenable position. We cannot offer them the one thing they would like, because it would be giving in to blackmail. However, I think now that had I paid their ransom at once, a young cadet may not have been murdered under my command."
Sencus sank into silence. Kirk glanced around, but the Excelsior was in dock and the bridge was deserted but for the three of them.
"As I see it, then," Kirk said, "we have very little choice if we want to effect Sulu's release. We have to give them what they want."
"Selling or trading weapons is a direct violation of the Prime Directive, Captain," Spock said. "The Federation simply will not condone such a thing, under any conditions."
"That's right," Kirk said. "They won't. But we don't represent the Federation any longer." Kirk ironically touched his civilian clothes. "And I don't see that we have any choice. The Federation is paralyzed. Hell, the Beta Promethean Ruling Family is paralyzed. As long as war doesn't break out, these diplomats can pat themselves on the back and assure themselves that they're doing a good job. But our friend and his fellow officers can't stand a stalemate forever. I know we're breaking Federation regulations, but there's nothing else I can think of. Before we put our lives and those of the hostages in danger with a frontal assault, I'd like to try this. We'll get what they want—I have an idea about that—and we'll arrange for the exchange." Kirk rose and nodded to Sencus. Then he and Spock left the Excelsior.
"It, ah, won't take all of us, of course. I'd very much like you to stay on the starbase, Barbara." The conspirators were gathered in the aft space lounge.
Barbara looked up, surprised. "I'm in. I've always been in.
I signed on for the voyage and I'm not bailing out on you now. Jim, this is just you trying to protect me because—"
"No,
this is common sense. We're circumventing the Federation's negotiations and acting without authority from Starfleet. The six of us have already had successful careers, which are behind us. We don't have nearly as much to lose as you do. We'll look like idiots if it fails. If it succeeds we'll probably be court-martialed. I suppose we'll deal with that when it happens. My guess is that at the very least we'll all be ignominiously thrown out of Starfleet. You, on the other hand, have your whole career ahead of you. You've been a big help, and we appreciate it, but we don't really need you for the rest, and I for one would feel much better if we parted ways now. You're asking me to ruin your career, and I don't think I'd like to do that."
It was very quiet when Kirk finished. He was uncomfortable, but he had to say it. Barbara stood up resolutely.
"I'll tell you what," she said. "If you'll sleep on it tonight,
I'll go quietly in the morning, if you still want me to."
"Fair enough," Kirk said. "For now, I think Mr. Spock and Uhura ought to go and seek out Mr. Taras Tarquin, and arrange a specific time and place for the exchange. Make sure he understands that there is to be no publicity. I'll leave all that to you," Kirk finished, nodding at Mr. Spock and Uhura.
"All right, Captain," Spock said. He and Uhura rose to go and seek out their contact on the starbase.
Kirk turned to McCoy.
"Let's you and I go over to the starbase. We'll need to access the Memory Alpha library to find some weaponry these pirates will love."
"They're not gonna accept pictures and technical specifications, Jim," McCoy said, puzzled.
"No, but a bunch of high-ranking Starfleet officers like us ought to be able to commandeer whatever we need. What do you think, Mr. Scott?"
Scott, who had been listening from a comfortable chair, stirred. "It's very possible. But I suppose you don't want to walk right in to the chief of starbase operations and request a supply of powerful weapons for the purpose of creating a ransom for the hostages."
"I don't," Kirk said.
"Well, then," Scotty mused, "there's a lot of Starfleet officers on 499. I'll just have to find one who'll help us out. And keep his mouth shut."
Scotty hurried away.
Shortly Kirk and Bones were rummaging through the starbase library. Kirk foraged in the depths of the information catalogues until he found what he was looking for, then followed that trail. Used to making command decisions but quite unused to the technical minutiae of the databanks—which for the most part he had always left up to his science officer, navigator, and helmsman—it took a good bit of investigation and discovery. Finally he appeared satisfied.
"I think I've found what I'm looking for," he said cautiously to McCoy, who had been watching over his shoulder for some time. "Look at these."
They flipped through screen after screen of futuristic weapons, from small handheld devices to large shoulder cannons that required backpacks as power sources. They had ranges up to hundreds of yards, and carried charges that would last for long periods of time. They had laser sights and customized grips, and looked as if they were made of impervious titanium. Numerous controls testified to the variety of their fire areas, and many featured built-in computer functions to access range, load, and power instantly and accurately in the field. Most were sleekly designed, and some strapped onto the user's arm for steadiness.
Bones studied the catalogue and smiled. "Perfect," he said. "You old horse trader you." Then he wandered off in idle search of something more interesting to read than weaponry catalogues. Kirk turned back to the screen and began copying notations into his personal tricorder. It took him almost half an hour to put together the specifications he wanted. After that he disconnected from Memory Alpha library, closed down the terminal, and went in search of McCoy, who had settled down to read an article he had found on the curative properties of some rare, alien vegetation.
Kirk looked over his shoulder for a moment, and saw fields of mushrooms in a golden sunlight.
"What's that stuff?" he asked. "Looks good."
"Toadstools. They're native to Cytrops 469, a planet in the Deuteronimous system."
"They look awfully tasty. I've always liked mushrooms. They're not poisonous, are they? I suppose if they're poisonous, the inhabitants of that planet have to stay away."
"They're not poisonous; they are the inhabitants of that planet. They have a fully developed sonar language of over a hundred and forty thousand words and conceptual ideas, as well as telepathic abilities. Starfleet has held several hyperspace conversations with them, and an exploratory voyage is planned for the next five years."
"Oh," Kirk said, looking at the squat mushroom plants he had gastronomically admired. "I don't think I'll order mushrooms for a while," he said.
Spock and Uhura found Taras Tarquin in a shadowy corner of the recreation deck and waved when they entered the room.
"Mr. Spock, what can I do for you?"
"We have decided to try to make a deal with this Maldari and his crew," Spock said quietly. "Where can we talk?"
Tarquin looked around the recreation room, where humans and aliens from that corner of the universe were coming and going.
"I doubt if anyone could eavesdrop on us here," he said.
"I would rather that too many people do not see us together. No offense meant."
Taras smiled. "Follow me." He led them out of the room and along the corridor until they came to a small turbolift. They rode it up to a high floor, got out, and followed a smaller corridor nearly to the end. He led them through an archway, and they found themselves in a forward observation lounge that was deserted.
"It is unlikely that we will be disturbed here, especially at this time of the evening cycle," Tarquin said as he indicated chairs for the two of them and sat on a stool.
"You seem to know all the quiet spots on the starbase, Mr. Tarquin," Spock said.
"I am here often. I trade throughout this section of the galaxy. I like to come here sometimes, as it is usually deserted but the viewport is enormous. That is the Magellus cluster overhead. Isn't it beautiful? Well, what shall I tell them?"
"We are prepared to provide what they want in exchange for the eight Starfleet officers."
"Excellent," Tarquin said.
"But let me make this, as an Earth statesman once said, perfectly clear. This is not a Starfleet matter. I do not represent the Federation or the Starfleet in any way. They have no idea we are negotiating with you. We are not going to tell them, and if you or the people you represent do, the deal is off, for surely they would interfere. We are well aware that we are acting illegitimately, and so are you. This is a straight trade, from one private party to another. We will supply, shall we say, eight transport containers of the goods they have specified, and we will turn them over to them in exchange for the eight Starfleet officers they are holding."
"Nine containers."
"I think eight ought to be … oh, I see. I think we have stumbled upon your commission. I was wondering when we would come to that."
"Mr. Spock, please believe me, I have the best of intentions here. My mother was a citizen of your Federation. My loyalty is unquestioned. It is only that I have taken very large risks, and I am after all, by profession, a trader. I believe this is the simplest way to handle the small matter."
"All right. Nine. And the exchange must happen tomorrow morning. Speed is of the essence."
"That is very sudden. I have to contact—"
"You will do it. If you are worth your commission."
"Very well."
"We ought to make the exchange in a reasonably private place."
"I have a suggestion about that," Tarquin said. "There is a moon orbiting Beta Prometheus 3. No farther from here than the principal planet, but uninhabited, a windy and inhospitable place, and you can make the exchange there. I will give you the coordinates, and the exact time."
"Early tomorrow morning."
"As you wish. And may I say that I think you are doing the right thing,
Mr. Spock. Only you must be careful."
"You do not have to warn me that Maldari is not an honorable man."
"Good. We know who we are dealing with. Yet they have no desire to hang on to the hostages, of that I am positive. For them it is becoming more and more like holding a Berengarian dragon by the tail. But you must understand: the Prometheans prize wheeling and dealing above all. And not honestly, as you say. If they can best you in a trade, they feel you are a fool. Caveat emptor, I believe you call it."
"Let the buyer beware."
"Something like that. I tell you, Mr. Spock, they have a saying. Grog optoman, nokt ingo. Roughly translated, it means, 'Fool an enemy, trick a fool.' They have a very different system of ethics, or morality, altogether. It is simply a cultural difference. They believe the people of the Federation planets, especially the Earth, are fools to attempt to trade value for value. I would recommend that you be sure they have the goods to supply before you proceed. Now, if you will excuse me, I have to get into contact with the other side. That is not always easy. Look for a message on your yacht within several hours." Taras Tarquin nodded politely at Uhura, and scuttled out of the observation deck.
Spock and Uhura waited a few minutes after he had gone, then left the room.
Kirk and McCoy met Scotty on level twenty-four, near the inner shaft of the starbase. It was a room devoted principally to one of the starbase synthesizers, but at this late hour it was closed. The doors were shut. Great diagonal stripes and the words AUTHORIZED STARFLEET PERSONNEL ONLY formed an intimidating barrier. When Kirk and McCoy rounded the corridor and arrived at the meeting place, Scotty was waiting with a familiar figure.
"You remember Garth Flanagan, James," Scott said. "And this is medical officer Leonard McCoy." Flanagan and McCoy shook hands. "Flanny just happens to be in charge of starbase supplies." Scotty smiled.
Flanagan pushed a flat card into a slot in the door, and it swung open. They followed Flanagan into the synthesizer room, and he closed the door behind them.
"My friend has been kind enough to loan us the use of one of his synthesizers," Scott explained to Kirk and McCoy. "I've explained that we're on a private voyage on that little toy the Plush Princess, and got a bit far from our home port without realizing just how inadequate her provisions were. We dinna need much."
The Fearful Summons Page 21
