Black Fire (18 page)

As he was led out of the room, an expressionless Spock did not look once at his captain.

Kirk asked for permission to speak to Spock before his removal to Minos. It was granted, and he followed the guards into a small detention room.

When he entered, one of the guards was fastening Spock's hands in front of him with handcuffs secured to a belt around his waist. At Kirk's entry Spock stood, still looking much too calm.

"That's not necessary, Lieutenant. Spock won't cause you any trouble," Kirk said approaching the guard.

"Sorry, sir. It's regulation procedure for a prisoner in transit." He snapped the cuffs shut, restraining Spock's arms completely.

Spock spoke calmly. "It's all right, Jim. I accept the situation."

"Can you leave us alone for a minute, Lieutenant?" Kirk asked.

"No, sir, I'm sorry." But the guard respected their desire to speak alone and moved to the other side of the room, leaving Kirk and Spock in some measure of privacy.

"Spock," Kirk began, "I'll start an appeal motion—the sentence is unreasonable. We can get it modified. Your father can help. Surely a man in his position should be able to get your sentence commuted. You could be back on the
Enterprise
tomorrow!"

Spock's attitude changed abruptly. "Captain, I absolutely forbid you to contact my father. You do not understand Vulcan relationships. I cannot ask Sarek for assistance and you
must
not. You must promise me that you will not try to contact him in any way."

Seeing how agitated Spock became at the mention of his father, Kirk agreed quietly.

"I promise, Spock. I won't contact Sarek if you feel that strongly about it. But I don't understand your attitude at all!"

"I do not ask you to understand my motives, Jim. But I do ask that you respect my decisions and actions. Accept the entire situation realistically. I did commit the offenses. I will survive the five years. I want no further discussion. Please, Jim." He tried to reassure his friend. "I will be fine."

But Kirk knew Spock. A rehabilitation center would be unendurable for him. Spock knew that too.

"I am trying to understand, Spock. If you ever need anything, contact me: anytime, anyplace. I'll be there to help you. Remember that!"

"I am sorry, sir," the guard interrupted. "I can't allow you any more time."

The things they really wanted to say remained unspoken. Kirk nodded his head and Spock was led out of the room. The Vulcan turned and looked back when he reached the doorway. With an unwavering gaze, he looked deeply into Kirk's pained eyes.

"Live long and prosper, my friend."

The door closed, leaving Kirk alone.

1

"Strip down!"

The security officer barked the order when Spock entered the detention unit on Starbase 12. After the removal of his restraints, Spock began to disrobe. He took off his tunic, neatly folding it and putting it on a nearby chair. He then stretched the stirrups on the pants over his boots to facilitate their removal.

"Hurry up!" the guard prodded, enjoying the power he held over the prisoner. "Everything!" he directed when Spock hesitated after having removed his T-shirt. "Boots, too!"

It was with difficulty that Spock removed his boots. The back brace McCoy insisted he wear until his wound entirely healed restricted his movement.

The guard took the neatly folded bundle of clothing and dumped it in a corner. He handed Spock a fluorescent yellow jump suit and a pair of worn sandals. "Put these on!"

Spock took the suit, made purposely distinctive to discourage escape attempts, and slowly slipped it on. He watched the guard remove the small bundle of clothes he had just taken off. Along with the uniform, his control of his own fate was gone.

Throughout the entire process of prisoner identification and the change of clothes, Spock remained expressionless. He remembered times on board the
Enterprise
, on those rare occasions when prisoners were being transferred, how he had looked upon them with pity. Prisoner transfer had been the security section's responsibility and he had taken only a mild interest. The process was acutely distasteful to him—as the object of all the rigid precautions—but no one would have known; his face revealed absolutely nothing.

The security docking bay of Starbase 12 was located on the far side of the space station. It was therefore necessary to take the prisoners along the main corridor through much of the base. Spock was acquainted with the physical layout of the starbase and dreaded the long walk in full view of any passersby. He withdrew further into himself as the time for his transfer approached.

It was even worse than he expected. The station was full of personnel from the
Enterprise
, all doing their last-minute personal provisioning before returning to deep space. The corridor stretched infinitely long.

Actually, it is 132.8 meters
, Spock assured himself as he was led out of the detention unit into the long hall. He immediately recognized a lieutenant who was passing.

Concentrating his sight on the end of the hall, Spock did not look to either side.

There was no doubt as to the identity of the prisoner in fetters and accompanied by guards coming toward the three women as they finished their shopping before returning to the
Enterprise
. Christine Chapel saw him first as a bright spot moving toward them. As he came nearer, she broke into tears and started toward him. She was firmly held at arm's length by one of the guards. Uhura and Rand, their own tears of sympathy barely restrained, led Christine away.

Each glance was almost physically painful as he continued down the long hallway with the guards. Spock was walking a gauntlet. He felt very exposed to the hostility of the onlookers at the station. The only sympathy came from crew members of the
Enterprise
. He shielded himself with Vulcan discipline as, one by one, other people turned to stare as he was led past.

The court-martial had been the main topic of conversation in Starfleet for days, so it wasn't surprising to find a group of Starfleet reporters waiting at the door of the docking bay when the guards approached with their prisoner. Expressionless and silent, Spock tolerated the shoving reporters until the guards led him into the waiting ship.

The brig on the cruiser was much like any other and had the distinct advantage of providing a haven from the blatant stares of curiosity seekers. Except for the guard outside his cell and an occasional nosy crewman who stopped to gawk, Spock was finally alone. He moved his arms briskly, bringing back his circulation after the removal of the restraints, and placed himself with his back toward the door, creating as much privacy as possible. He had no idea as to when he would arrive at Minos since the cruiser had other business en route. It was disconcerting not to have control over his own movements. Within the limits of Starfleet orders and the vicissitudes of missions, he had always had his freedom. There was also the challenge, adventure, and the exhilaration of exploration. And there had been the companionship of his captain and friend, James T. Kirk.

Spock had always prided himself on his self-sufficiency. Forced to spend a lonely childhood, he had learned not to depend emotionally upon anyone else. Over the years he had developed a protective barrier which shielded him from the risks of intimacy. But under that barrier he felt pain. It was Jim Kirk who had been able to break through, who had become his close and only real friend. Now he had to face the unknown without him. He believed the entire court-martial and conviction was harder on Jim than on anyone else.

That is all past, he
told himself.
I must manage alone
.

2

Minos was a Class-A planet—life possible with artificial atmosphere and off-planet support—and was under a tight security screen. The actual center was completely underground, with the available arable land under an atmosphere dome for farming. The facility was now almost entirely self-supporting. Vegetables and fruits were supplied by the farm, meat by a large herd of hogs, the only livestock found able to adapt to the environment. All of the labor was provided by the inmates.

Spock still wore the yellow jump suit when he was led into the warden's office upon his arrival on Minos. He stood before the desk in the large, sparsely furnished room with his hands once again bound.

"Sir, this is Spock, the Vulcan convicted of treason," the guard announced loudly.

"I am Commander Bryant," the warden said. He indicated a file on his desk. "Your reputation precedes you, Spock. Please leave us, Lieutenant," Bryant ordered the guard.

"But, sir, that's not the usual procedure," he protested.

"He's a most unusual prisoner, Lieutenant. Please, do as I say."

Spock watched the interchange with interest, trying to assess the warden. He seemed to typify Starfleet: He was tall, of medium coloring, well-groomed, self-assured, and appeared competent.

The guard, obviously disturbed at leaving the warden alone with the prisoner, positioned himself outside the door, anticipating trouble.

It was no more than five minutes later when he was called back in to finish the introductory procedures and escort the prisoner to his cell. Before he took Spock away, the warden once again addressed the guard.

"Remove the cuffs, Lieutenant. The prisoner is not dangerous. He's given me his word that he'll be cooperative."

Spock offered his hands and the guard unlocked the cuffs, freeing him. "Thank you, Lieutenant," the Vulcan said calmly. "That is a definite improvement."

The guard was taken aback by Spock's relaxed attitude. It was too polite, and the tone was that of a superior officer. Feeling he had to assert his authority over the prisoner, he roughly spun the Vulcan about while preparing to take him to his cell.

"Lieutenant, I'll not tolerate rough treatment of the prisoners," Bryant warned.

"Sorry, sir."

Bryant gave the guard a menacing look, and turned back to the pile of work on his desk.

With a tight grip on Spock's arm the guard led him to the cell block.

"I don't know what he told you in there, Vulcan, but you'll get no special treatment here," the lieutenant warned.

"I expect none, Lieutenant," Spock replied too calmly.

The guard was unnerved. "We've never had a Vulcan prisoner here before," he snapped. "This is predominantly a human institution. You understand that?"

Spock nodded.

Before he was taken to his cell, Spock was subjected to a body search. After that, he showered and was given a standard olive-green jump suit. The number M621V, in bold red letters, was stitched on the upper-left side and across the back.

"Learn the number," the guard sneered. "That's who you are now,
Commander
Spock."

Spock noticed that Starfleet had not planned its penal system to accommodate the great numbers requiring it. The screening and training processes were so stringent that they felt the need for correctional facilities to be negligible. But even among the Starfleet select there turned out to be offenders and incorrigibles in sufficient quantities to crowd the facilities set aside for them. The fact that it shared this correctional facility with the civil authorities in the sector only increased the load on the prison. Minos was disgracefully overcrowded.

Spock was aware of four such facilities. This one and the one on the planet Galor were designed specifically for human and like species; the other two served for Starfleet prisoners with different environmental needs. Spock knew he was the first Vulcan to have been sentenced to Minos. He acknowledged that it was not a particularly desirable distinction. He was handed a stack of linens and escorted to the cell which was to be his home for the next five years.

He found himself alone. Examining the cell, he saw it accommodated four, although it had originally been designed for two. The two lower berths and one of the uppers were made up; the only unmade bed, obviously his, was the upper left. He put the linens he was carrying down on the lower bunk and proceeded to make up the bed. His back muscles rebelled. Still encumbered by the back brace which McCoy insisted he wear, Spock could see he would have difficulty raising himself onto the bunk, yet it was the only place for him to sit.

Before making the effort to get up onto the bunk, Spock put an extended finger into the energy field on the entrance of the cell. It was activated and sent a very substantial jolt into him. He raised an eyebrow in acknowledgement and struggled onto the bunk, stretching flat. Grateful for the opportunity to gather his thoughts before the onslaught of prison life really began, he lay quietly in contemplation. He had hardly begun to ponder his situation when the cell's other occupants entered.

With a porcine grunt, the large man who entered first threw himself onto the bed below Spock, sending the entire bunk into vibrations. He was a huge hulk of a man who, Spock estimated, must weigh almost 300 pounds. He was built like a bull, and moved like one.

On the lower bed across from "Bull" Tim Macklen, a small weasel of a man was removing his sandals. Harry Needham didn't even glance at the new occupant of the cell. But it was the man who took the bunk across from his who interested Spock most.

Tall and slim, with the distinctive pointed ear of the Vulcan strain, the man gracefully vaulted to his bunk and sat, legs dangling, facing Spock. The two men openly stared, appraising each other.

Spock made an attempt to introduce himself. "Spock."

No acknowledgement followed.

Realizing he was getting nowhere, Spock lay back, acutely aware of the scrutiny of the man in the next bunk, but saying nothing more.

A warning buzzer sounded and the occupants of cell 621 prepared for lights-out by stripping for bed. Confronted with the choice of sleeping in his jump suit, the only clothing issued him so far, or with nothing on, Spock chose to strip as well.

He got under the blankets as the lights dimmed, but they did not go out entirely. The ceiling was still partly illuminated. Spock's preference for the dark was an idiosyncrasy well known among the crew members of the
Enterprise
. His quarters were always dimly lit, providing a haven, a place where he could meditate. That privacy was now a thing of the past.