Crossover - Michael Jan Friedman [25]
“At the moment, my primary duty is to try to negotiate for the prisoners’ release, and to monitor the situation— to see that Spock’s true identity is not revealed. We have a very delicate situation on our hands—one where we must weigh and balance a great many issues and interests.”
Instead of bowing to Picard’s logic, McCoy virtually exploded.
“Captain,” he seethed, “I was weighing and balancing before your father was in diapers—and I’ve learned one thing. The longer you wait to get into a tough situation, the harder it is to come away in one piece.”
For the first time, Picard let some of the anger he was feeling seep into his voice. “Admiral, I’ll take into account whatever advice you care to give me on this mission. But I categorically refuse to be rushed into any action that will endanger the Federation, this ship, or its crew.
“I hope you and I will be in agreement when we reach the Neutral Zone,” he added. “But in the event we are not, I will nonetheless continue to follow orders—and to act in accordance with the principles of sound command judgment.”
The admiral glared at him for a moment, to the point where the captain feared he might endanger his health. Then, muttering to himself, the man turned and made his way toward the exit.
Unfortunately, Picard had the feeling this conversation wasn’t quite over. At least, not as far as Admiral McCoy was concerned.
Spock brought himself out of his meditation period early, but there was no choice. They had less than four days before the trial. He and his charges had much to do in that time.
Standing up in his solitary quarters, he noted that his five remaining homeworld followers were spread among the new students. That was good, he mused.
He and his most experienced pupils would need to work very hard together in the time they had left. And before they could begin that work, he would have to convince his new students to take a path they would no doubt resist.
Yes, the six of them had much to do.
We should be seven.
The thought came unbidden, but he did not resist it. Sel’den’s death was an unfortunate, illogical waste. The young Romulan had been a gifted student who too often did not see his own potential.
However, Spock knew that Sel’den had been his most devoted follower. In fact, the Vulcan had entertained the hope that Sel’den would be able to continue his work in the future.
It occurred to Spock that he had never mentioned these plans to Sel’den himself. He had never even expressed his satisfaction with his student’s progress.
Of course, now that Sel’den was dead, it was pointless to concern himself with regrets. Still, the Vulcan found his mind returning to the idea that he had been in error. That he had failed to communicate his approval of the young Romulan’s accomplishments.
It was a mistake that Spock’s own father had made—an odd failing in a diplomat. Logic dictated that proper communication was essential to any relationship. The Vulcan was determined not to make the same mistake again.
Leaving his quarters, Spock noted that their captors had been fairly generous in the accommodations they’d given them. Of course, this would not have been possible if the facility were filled with actual criminals.
Though most of the prisoners shared living space, the cells were small but adequate. And there were even a small number of single enclosures.
Most important to Spock’s work, the students of Surak were free to roam the compound’s central courtyard during the day—though under the watchful eyes of the armed guards stationed on the walls.
Unfortunately, there was only one entrance to the compound, and the Vulcan had seen that it was well guarded—so well guarded, in fact, that their captors could afford to give their prisoners the appearance of freedom within the prison walls.
Making his way past other