The Tears of the Singers

by Melinda Snodgrass

  “A non sequitur, Lieutenant. A logical action once undertaken remains logical.”

  “I’ll debate you on that,” McCoy said. “But at some other time.”

  “Yes, let’s get it over with,” Kirk said.

  They reentered the briefing room, and Cumberland read the decision in their expressions. His face seemed to melt, pulling down into a look of misery.

  “Mr. Maslin, if there were anyone else to call upon, believe me we would do so; but such an option is not open to us. Therefore you are temporarily mobilized into Star Fleet with the honorary rank of lieutenant. If you could ready any equipment you will require we’ll beam it aboard. We want to get underway as soon as possible.”

  Maslin’s thin lips drew back in a sneer. “Do I have the right to file a protest with the commander of Star Base 24?”

  “You have the right to file any protest you wish so long as you’re back on this ship by 0300. I’ll send two security guards to help you organize your equipment.”

  “Afraid I might try to bolt, Captain?”

  “I’m going to assume you’re a man of honor, and will adjust yourself to the realities.”

  “I’ll try to use you for a model,” Maslin said sarcastically.

  Cumberland slumped in his seat, mumbling what sounded like a litany of dates and places. Maslin slapped him on the shoulder.

  “Come, come, Cubby. Think of all the fun you’ll have canceling and rescheduling all those performances. You might actually, for the first time in your career, earn your twenty percent.”

  Uhura stepped to Maslin’s side, and tentatively touched his sleeve. “Is there …” she began, only to be interrupted by the musician.

  “So there are no conscripts in Star Fleet, eh?” She retreated before the bitterness in his face. “I would salute you, Captain, but I don’t know how. You must instruct me when I return. Come, Cubby.” And the door hissed shut behind them.

  Kirk sighed, and surveyed his officers. Spock looked thoughtful, McCoy was frowning at nothing and Uhura stood staring at the door with a deeply hurt expression on her beautiful face. Kirk sighed again, and pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes. They felt gritty from lack of sleep.

  “So your troubles won’t start until we reach Taygeta, huh, Jim?”

  Kirk rubbed his forehead, and gave McCoy a sideways glance. “How about if we just hope they don’t get any worse, Bones.”

  Chapter Three

  Maslin carefully laid the violin case on the table in the center of the room, and threw his single piece of luggage onto the bed. It was a useless and petulant gesture, but it somehow made him feel better. He then folded his arms across his chest, and slowly surveyed his new quarters. In spite of his relatively low rank he had been assigned to a VIP room. Still, the stark military efficiency of the room grated on him.

  He prowled about the chamber, locating the head and the swing-out dresser. Resting his arms on the top of the dresser he studied himself in the round mirror. The face that looked back was not encouraging. A heavy five o’clock shadow darkened his cheeks and chin, and his eyes seemed sunken into his head. Not since his halcyon days at Juilliard and the Rome Conservatory had he stayed up all night. With the onset of the disease, rest had become his god.

  His first wild night in years, and by God, he was paying for it, he thought, feeling his heart hammering in his chest. He dug into his pocket, and pulled out a pill case. Shaking several of the small green pills into his hand, he swallowed them and waited for his heart to quiet its frantic fluttering.

  He turned back to face the room, and suppressed a shudder. He wished now he had brought some of his own things to relieve the dull gray sameness of the quarters, but there hadn’t been time. Most important had been his instruments, in particular the giant CompuSynthesizer which had required such care while beaming aboard. Kirk’s time limit had hung over him like some statement of doom, so he had simply thrown together some clothes, escaped from Cubby’s babblings and incoherent farewells and beamed aboard the Enterprise.

  God, how he hated space travel, he thought as he moved to unpack. The vastness of space filled him with neither a sense of awe nor a sense of adventure. It made him think of eternity, and he lived too damn close to that state to enjoy it.

  He finished unpacking and glanced at his watch. He had no idea what time the day began aboard this monstrosity, but he knew if he didn’t get sleep, and soon, he would be spending his first day in the sick bay. He gazed longingly at the bed, and contemplated just throwing himself down on the glittering red coverlet fully clothed. He pushed away temptation, and forced himself to undress and change into a pair of Capellan-spider silk pajamas. He wasn’t going to lose all of his dignity or forgo all of his lifestyle just because a latter-day Captain Bligh had impressed him into the service. It was his last concious thought before exhaustion claimed him.

  The door signal took him off-guard and he jumped convulsively, spilling tea across his musical score. Cursing, he mopped at the pages with the sleeve of his robe, and finally shouted, “Come in.”

  Uhura stepped into the room and quickly assessed the situation. “I’ll get you a towel,” she said, and disappeared into the lavatory.

  “I came to see if you wanted to join us for breakfast,” she said as she helped him smooth and dry the pages of music.

  “And are you the curvaceous bribe who’s been sent to keep my spirits up?”

  Uhura threw the towel down on the table, and stared at him coldly. “If you’re going to be as much of a bastard as you were last night I’ll leave.”

  “I thought I was quite charming last night.”

  “I’d say that was a matter of opinion. You had no right to make that remark to me about conscripts.”

  “Why? It’s true, isn’t it?”

  “It’s not the same situation, and you know it.”

  Maslin paused, and riffled nervously through the pages of his score. “Did you argue against my coming when all of you had that little meeting in the hall?”

  “Yes, and I was out of line to have done it.” She turned away, and began fidgeting with the hairbrushes and aftershave bottles that rested on the dresser. “More than that, I was out of line to have been there at all,” she added at last.

  “Then why did you do it?”

  Uhura turned back to face him. “I don’t know.”

  They stood in silence for several moments, then Maslin said in a low voice, “Would you mind if I told you I was glad you were there?”

  She shook her head, and he wasn’t certain if she was objecting or not. She walked back over to him, and asked, “What about breakfast?”

  “No, thank you. Tea in my room and privacy. I loathe my fellow man before noon.”

  “There’s at least one of your fellow men you’d better learn to tolerate,” Uhura said. “Captain Kirk would like you to join him on the bridge as soon as possible.”

  “And as soon as possible means now.”

  “You’re a quick learner.”

  “No, I have a good memory. Now, what about breakfast?”

  “I thought you didn’t want any, and if you don’t you’d better deal with the captain first.”

  “Oh, all right.” Maslin grabbed some clothes and vanished into the lavatory to change. “Did you get in trouble for reporting back late last night?” he called through the door.

  “No, there were too many other matters to occupy people’s attention.”

  “Are you going to escort me to the bridge?”

  “If you’d like.”

  “I would consider it preferable to wandering aimlessly about this ship for the next two or three days,” he replied tartly, as he stepped back into the room.

  “I told you it was big.”

  “And ugly,” Maslin added as they walked into the corridor.

  “It’s not a luxury liner, and you’d better not let our chief engineer hear you say that. You’re likely to find yourself on the receiving end of a great deal of Scottish ire.”
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br />   “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  They passed a number of people on their way to the turbolift, and Maslin noticed that he received a good many interested stares. He wasn’t certain if the interest was due to his lack of a uniform, or if his reputation had preceded him.

  In the turbolift Uhura turned the control and murmured, “Bridge.” The elevator whined into life, moving with incredible speed. They rode in silence, Uhura gazing thoughtfully at the floor. Maslin surveyed her classically lovely face, and wondered why he was so forbearing with this woman? She was a part of everything he despised, and should therefore be his enemy. Yet it was her presence which had made him take the attitude of unwilling guest rather than embittered prisoner.

  The doors hissed open, and Maslin stepped onto the bridge. The moving star field on the front screen arrested him, holding him frozen with fear and wonder. On all luxury liners it was common to keep the screens dark or carrying images of pastoral landscapes for the comfort of the passengers. If you were an adventuresome soul there was a special space viewing room, but Maslin had never used one. He pulled his gaze away, and was careful not to let it wander back to the dangerously mesmerizing screen.

  “Captain’s Log, Star Date 3126.7: We are three hours out from Star Base 24, en route to the Taygeta V system and the mysterious phenomenon that is warping space and time in that sector,” Maslin heard Kirk say from the command chair. “On board to serve as an albeit reluctant advisor is Guy Maslin, interstellarly famous composer, conductor and performer.

  “I hope the man is worth the effort it has taken to include him in this mission. Invoking the Civilian Mobilization Act is not a thing I undertake lightly. Spock is convinced the man will be of use, but I have my doubts, given his attitude.”

  Uhura started to step forward as if to warn Kirk of their presence, but Maslin caught her by the arm, and forced her to wait. Kirk glanced to his right, toward Uhura’s station, then gave a nod of satisfaction, and continued with his log entry.

  “It is possible that the presence of Lieutenant Uhura aboard the Enterprise will provide a beneficial effect on Maslin’s attitude. She seems interested in Maslin. I only hope she doesn’t find herself torn between her duty and attraction to this man.”

  Maslin gave Uhura an ironic glance, but she refused to meet his taunting gaze. Her face seemed carved from ebony as she stepped swiftly to Kirk’s chair.

  “Captain,” she said crisply. “Mr. Maslin is here.”

  “Thank you, Lieutenant.” Kirk rose, studying her impassive face. “Did you just arrive?” he asked casually, tugging down his shirt.

  “Several minutes ago, sir.”

  Maslin watched to see how Kirk would react to that, and his grudging admiration for the man increased when it didn’t seem to faze Kirk in the least.

  “Very good, Lieutenant. You may return to your station.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Welcome aboard, Mr. Maslin. I should have been on hand earlier this morning when you beamed up, but I had several Federation inspectors to get out of my hair. I trust everything went smoothly?”

  Maslin accepted the outstretched hand. “Everything was fine, and I, the synthesizer and my piano are safely aboard. However, I am a man of strict habits. I’m accustomed to spending my mornings in quiet and privacy, so if you could be brief.”

  Kirk raised an eyebrow at the commanding tone. “Well, you may have to alter your habits somewhat, Mr. Maslin. We all must make our little sacrifices,” he concluded with a half smile.

  “I’d say I’ve made a hell of a big sacrifice, Kirk, so why don’t you just get to the bottom line. Why did you call me up here? To impress me with the awesome power under your command? If so consider me impressed, and let’s get on with it.”

  “You’re a difficult man, Mr. Maslin.”

  “I could say the same about you, Captain. As I recall I’m the one who’s been impressed.”

  “Okay, bottom line. I want to discuss the team that should be assembled to work with you, and who will command them.”

  “It’s my effort. I’ll command it.”

  “Out of the question.”

  “I am now, thanks to your gracious intervention, a lieutenant in Star Fleet.”

  “It’s an honorific only. You are not, I repeat not, in the chain of command. You will obey any order given to you by a member of this ship’s contingent, but you will issue no orders unless I have specifically placed a person or persons under your command. Is that clear?”

  “Perfectly clear,” Maslin muttered, tight-lipped.

  “Good. Now what are you going to need in the way of personnel?”

  “Well, since we’re dealing with a musical puzzle it would be nice to have people around me who aren’t tone deaf.”

  Spock removed the monitor from his ear, and stepped down to join the conversation. “Captain, might I suggest that I am the logical person to command the landing party. I have extensive musical training, and my ear is superior to a human’s.”

  Kirk’s lips twitched in an involuntary smile, and Maslin, following the captain’s gaze to the Vulcan’s elegantly pointed ears, found himself smiling also.

  “Your suggestion is well merited, Mr. Spock. You’ll command the landing party.”

  “And I want Lieutenant Uhura included in the party,” Maslin said.

  “Uhura is my chief communications officer. You’d be stripping my bridge crew if you took her as well as Spock.”

  “Uhura is also a singer, and I need her on the ground.”

  The two men stood rigidly squared off. Most of the bridge crew kept their eyes riveted on their panels, but Chekov risked a glance at the players in this interesting dispute. What he saw in Uhura’s face made him give a low whistle.

  “What is it?” Sulu whispered out of the corner of his mouth.

  “Later, but I’ll tell you now it is werry interesting,” the ensign whispered back.

  The doors of the lift opened, and McCoy stepped onto the bridge. Seeing that something was afoot he moved to the back of Kirk’s chair, and leaned in to listen.

  Uhura stepped down from her position at the com. “Captain, with your permission I would like to serve on the survey team with Mr. Spock and Mr. Maslin.”

  “It would seem logical, Captain. It is unlikely that there are large numbers of trained musicians aboard the Enterprise, and it would be best not to waste one of Lieutenant Uhura’s abilities.”

  Kirk tugged at his lower lip, and surveyed the three people ranged before him. “All right, permission granted, Lieutenant. Now how will you fill the rest of your complement?”

  “I’ll hold auditions for those people who feel they can add some expertise or input to the shore party.”

  “You’re likely to end up with four hundred and thirty people lined up on your doorstep, and all of them armed with jew’s harps, kazoos, saws and anything else they can think of,” murmured McCoy.

  Maslin gave him a mirthless smile. “One taste of my auditioning techniques, and all but the stouthearted will flee.”

  “When do you want me to audition?” Uhura asked.

  “That won’t be necessary,” Maslin said shortly.

  “I disagree. You’ve never heard me sing, and it wouldn’t be fair if I were accepted without having to undergo the same test as the others.”

  “The lieutenant is correct. Both of us must be included in the audition.”

  Maslin looked nettled at being corrected, but he agreed with a frown.

  McCoy gave a chuckle. “Aren’t you worried about failing the audition, Spock?”

  Spook gave McCoy a majestic look. “Such a failure on my part is hardly likely, Doctor. In fact the odds are—”

  “Oh yes,” McCoy said to Maslin, interrupting Spock before he could get into full swing. “It’s a good thing you turned up here. Saves me having to track you down. I think you better come down to sick bay where I can give you a going over. I want to know exactly what we’re dealin’ with here.”

  M
aslin’s hands clenched tightly at his sides. “Thank you, Doctor,” he said sarcastically. “For thirteen years I have successfully kept my illness a secret from everyone but my doctors and Cubby. But now, between you and my manager, at least half the galaxy knows.”

  “And you know something else?” McCoy retorted. “Nobody cares. Now, if you’ll come with me please.”

  “Is this one of those commands you were talking about?” Maslin asked Kirk.

  “It certainly sounds like one.”

  “And you will learn that if you do not give Dr. McCoy a chance to practice what limited medical skills he possesses he will hound you ceaselessly until you do submit,” Spock added.

  Maslin gave Kirk a startled look. The captain laughed. “Don’t worry. You’re just hearing part of a long-standing and ever-continuing battle. Believe me, you’re in good hands.”

  “That is perhaps being somewhat too optimistic, Captain.”

  “Spock, you’re just beggin’ for a physical. A complete physical,” McCoy threatened as he herded Maslin onto the turbolift.

  Kirk and McCoy strolled through the corridors of the Enterprise heading toward rec room C. The ship was three days out from Star Base 24, and proceeding toward Taygeta at warp six.

  “This isn’t going to be easy, Jim,” McCoy said. “I can see why that manager of his was worried. We haven’t even reached Taygeta, and he’s already working too hard.”

  “You’re monitoring him?”

  “I’m having him come in every day for a checkup, which is making him madder than hell, but what can I do?”

  “Nothing. After all the trouble we went through to get him we don’t want to lose our star expert before we even reach the problem.”

  Before anything further could be said Scotty came hurrying past, his bagpipes clutched firmly beneath his arm, and an expression of anticipation on his round face.

  “Why, what’s this, Mr. Scott? Are you going to audition for Mr. Maslin?”

  “Aye, Captain,” he said proudly.

  “I thought the goal was to communicate with these creatures, Jim. Let them get a load of Scotty on those pipes, and it’ll scare ‘em to death before we have a chance to explain.”