Deep Domain (Star Trek: The Original Series Book 33) by Howard Weinstein

Author:Howard Weinstein [Weinstein, Howard]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Pocket Books/Star Trek
Published: 2000-09-22T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seven

SPOCK AND CHEKOV waited in a private gallery perched high over the round amphitheater of the Synod chamber, watching as the overlords prepared for the session about to be convened. The chamber contained seats and individual desks in four concentric levels, each one nearly a complete circle, with a small wedge sliced out from floor to ceiling directly opposite the observation gallery. There, a simple pulpit rose perhaps three meters above floor level. On both sides of the pulpit, Akkallan flags hung down from gray walls ringed with geometric wave patterns limned in blue. Arched windows above the top ring of seats allowed daylight to stream in from all sides of the chamber.

The eighty overlords, both male and female and of widely ranging ages, were variously at their desks dozing or skimming papers, circulating, or knotted into small, animated discussion groups. Amid the general chaos, one member picked his way through the rows and mounted the steps to the pulpit. He was tall, rail-thin, with flowing white hair and a surprisingly youthful face, and he arrived at the top platform with a flourish, wielding a gavel.

“Overlords, overlords,” he boomed, his voice resonating through the cavernous chamber without any electronic amplification, carrying in a cadence suggesting that his words had long since become traditional opening oratory. “This session of the Continental Synod is called to order to consider matters regarding maintenance of our lands blessed by Mother Sea. Come to order, come to order, I, Ddenazay Mmord presiding.”

The din of members ending conversations and moving to their places subsided quickly, and Mmord cleared his throat. “As you all know, my peers, we have a special session today. Publican Abben Ffaridor has seen fit to respond to our request by coming to speak directly to us this morning.” The white-haired man turned and looked back down the steps leading to his rostrum. “Peer Ffaridor, the members will receive you now.”

As Ffaridor climbed to the speaker’s platform, Brigadier Vvox entered the gallery. “Commander Spock, Lieutenant Chekov, the Publican will be introducing you to the Synod any moment now. Come with me. When he calls for you, you’ll go in and stand at the base of the pulpit.”

The starship officers followed her down a set of switchback ramps to ground level, then around a hundred and eighty degrees of the circle until they reached a foyer behind the rostrum and listened to the Publican’s extemporaneous speech.

“—understand your concern over the declaration of first-stage martial law. So I’ve come, on the one hand, to reassure you—but on the other, to warn you not to take this crisis lightly. Just a day or so ago, our forces captured a terrorist cadre on Shiluzeya, where they operated from several base camps, inciting war between Akkalla and Chorym and plotting to overthrow this government—including you, peers of the Synod—”

Keeping behind Vvox, Spock and Chekov edged forward to catch a glimpse of the Publican standing alone in the pulpit. He spoke easily, maintaining a calm sincerity of tone that gave added credibility to words that were nothing short of incendiary.

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