Paradise Bought
Chapter 4: A City at War
Someone mentioned a city she had been in before the war,
a room with two candles against a wall,
someone dancing, someone watching.
We begin to believe.
The Long Sad Party by Mark Strand
The Ambassador was already in the Mess when Jim arrived. He grabbed his breakfast and sat down across from him. He noticed Ericksson’s meal looked a lot like the grain soup Spock favored.
“That looks familiar.”
Ericksson grinned and gestured toward the bowl with his spoon. “Spock turned me on to this, I am not surprised.”
Jim looked at him quizzically as he started in on his scrambled eggs.
Ericksson put his spoon down, “You look like a man with a question, Captain. Go ahead.”
Jim stared at his breakfast thoughtfully, then looked up. “I am a bit surprised, I’ll admit.”
“Surprised I share the same tastes as Mr. Spock?”
Jim sat a little straighter. He wasn’t sure he wanted to have this conversation. “I was unaware Mr. Spock had any tastes at all.”
Ericksson smiled and resumed eating. Finally, he looked back up at Jim. “That is unfortunate, Captain. I assure you, Spock has very distinctive tastes, though he rarely acts on them. Actually, I am surprised you aren’t better acquainted with them, considering the affection he has for you.”
Jim came close to choking on his coffee. Affection? Spock? That would be . . . illogical. He changed the subject. “What did you think of the delegation?”
Ericksson mentally switched gears and frowned. “I found them to be very entrenched in their own ideology. I hope the ‘other side’ isn’t as bad. I also find it interesting that in all our interactions with the Coridans, no one has met them. Our meeting today should be illuminating, to say the least. I am counting on Tiaza to pick up some of their general intentions. She is a very talented empath.”
“I noticed, she could be quite an asset. Tell me, did you note there were no women in the delegation?”
Pelle glanced at Jim. “I did. It’s strange but not the first time we’ve seen that kind of thing.”
He set down his spoon and took a sip of tea. “I definitely get the idea there is more here than meets the eye. I wish I knew exactly what we are getting into but I don’t.” Pelle smiled winningly, “I plan on Enterprise bailing me out if necessary.”
“Of course, Ambassador.” Jim knew his duty. He hoped there would be no need to bail anyone out, though. He nodded and drank the last of his coffee. “Let’s get to it, then.”
By 900h, Jim, Spock, Uhura and McCoy, along with the Ambassador’s staff, had beamed down to the planet’s surface. The conference hall was large and filled with at least fifty Coridans from all walks of life. Jim was starting to feel frustrated, listening to complaint after complaint from merchants to educators about how the ‘undesirables’ were destroying their lifestyles.
Tiaza made a point of introducing Jim to several influential men, all but abandoning the Ambassador. Jim noted this with surprise.
“Tiaza, shouldn’t you be protecting the Ambassador from all this attention?” Jim smiled, taking the sting out of the remark.
“Oh, Captain, Pelle can take care of himself. He is quite capable of getting the information he needs.” Tiaza grinned. “He is also a wizard at avoiding confrontation and lulling them into a false sense of security. You, on the other hand, look like you need a friend. I am sorry about last night, I didn’t mean to put you on the spot.”
Jim looked around the room and found his First Officer, speaking to N’vr. He seemed relaxed, his usual patient self. Jim glanced at Tiaza, who had noted Jim’s attention shifting over to Spock.
“No harm was done, Tiaza. Spock is entitled to his own life and his privacy. You merely illuminated the situation.”
Tiaza tilted her head, “You are wise, Captain. Sometimes it’s best to let nature take it’s course. You can count on Pelle to make the most of any situation at hand.
Jim nodded, he had been on the receiving end of Ericksson’s charisma, the man was impressive. He watched him work the room, pausing at each delegate, drawing them out. Jim could almost see the Coridans relaxing and dropping their guard.
Thank the Gods someone knew what they were doing. Jim was at a loss, trying to figure out the Coridan’s agenda.
Finally, the room quieted, the Coridans looked as one, to the entrance. The large double doors opened and the other delegation entered silently.
The group of fifteen people were heavily shrouded in robes; their hoods included a wrap around the lower part of their faces, obscuring their features. C’sar strode across the room and spoke briefly to their leader. Ericksson was quick to join them and Jim moved closer for the introductions.
“Ambassador Ericksson, I present M’ya, President of the Sh’ya Union.”
Jim noticed that C’sar’s usual detailed recitation of titles was absent and the introduction was intentionally vague and casual.
M’ya bowed and greeted Ericksson with a soft and distinctly feminine voice. “Ambassador, we are pleased and grateful for your presence.”
The Sh’ya delegation was all female. The ‘undesirables’ were women. Suddenly, N’vr’s remarks made sense. “They say they are the bringers of life. They say they weave our thoughts and emotions into our day-to-day existence. They control our dreams.” Their discomfort with the women at the previous night’s reception was now obvious.
As Jim and his party were introduced, he tried to hide his unease. How could the Coridans disenfranchise half their population? On Earth, power had shifted dramatically over thousands of years between matriarchal and patriarchal societies. Admittedly, when men held the power, they had frequently required women to be subservient and held them as second class, even third class citizens. It was a black mark on their civilization but they had recovered. To see such blatant sexism now was alarming. Most Federation societies venerated females, even if custom and ritual didn’t always make it seem that way.
How could the Federation not know about the schism on Coridan? Jim suspected the planet’s rich sources of dilithum might have blinded them. Gods, he hated politics. He wondered if Ericksson had been unaware. Jim hoped so, but he wouldn’t be surprised if the Federation Council had deliberately manipulated him in an attempt to hold onto mining rights.
Jim and the Ambassador’s group, spread out, working the room, trying to get a handle on the Coridans. Ericksson spent the majority of his time with C’sar, suspecting he might offend him if he was too attentive to the Sh’ya. Tiaza deserted Jim, stayed mostly with M’ya, drawing her out, leaving Jim and his crew to mingle with the other guests.
An hour later, Jim was relieved to hear the bell, signaling they could move to the formal banquet room. McCoy caught Jim’s eye and nodded toward the door. Jim looked around the room and saw Spock standing near the wall. Spock lifted an eyebrow in inquiry and quickly walked to Jim’s side.
C’sar’s aide, N’vr approached them. “Please, Captain, I would like a word with you and your First Officer. There is somebody I would like you to meet. If you follow me . . .” N’vr strode to the other end of the hall, indicating they should follow.
Jim smiled at Spock. Clearly, he too, was taken aback by the Coridans. He took Spock by the arm and was intent on following N’vr, when they both startled at the sound of the double doors leading to the banquet hall crashing closed, trapping them. Jim spun as Spock reached for his communicator in alarm. They weren’t armed, but the figures, clad in black robes, were. Pointing a phaser at them, one of the intruders stunned them. Jim fell unconscious to the floor, his last thought was surprise.