Starfleet Academy: The Edge

by Rudy Josephs

  There was a flurry of activity on the dark San Francisco street a block away from the clinic. The immediate area around Uhura was calm and quiet, but the energy at the command station was palpable. She was lucky to be a part of it. No other cadets were in on what would be the talk of the campus tomorrow.

  Starfleet security officers and law enforcement agents intermingled as they planned their move with a quiet precision, under the watchful eye of Captain Warde. She was in unofficial command of the operation since it had been her investigation on campus, but her legal standing only stretched as far as the Academy grounds. Dr. Schaeffer was conducting his illegal clinic on public property. His crimes were a matter for the city of San Francisco.

  Spock had explained all that to Uhura on their way over to the staging area. He hadn’t wanted her to come along, but she’d been waiting to hear about Dr. Griffin, and grabbed Spock before the security detail left. She wasn’t surprised Griffin confessed. It was the right thing to do. Things had already spiraled out of control.

  Spock had confirmed that it was much like she’d suspected. Dr. Griffin had been caught in a situation that was not his doing, because he’d teamed with a partner he could not trust. He’d been playing along to avoid being caught while he tried to figure out his next move. Unfortunately for Griffin, the investigation moved just a little faster. Thanks in part to the piece of information Uhura had gotten from Thanas.

  “I want in,” Uhura said firmly after she pulled Spock away from the quiet commotion of officers planning the infiltration of the clinic.

  “It would be inappropriate to involve a cadet in a security initiative,” Spock said.

  “Cadets are involved in security initiatives all the time,” she reminded him. “It’s part of the training. What’s your next excuse?”

  Spock considered her for a moment. “I find you difficult to debate with.”

  “You wouldn’t be the first person to tell me that.”

  “At any rate, the decision is not mine,” Spock said.

  “But Warde will listen to you,” she countered.

  “That she will,” Spock agreed. “But in this instance, I would prefer not to abuse that relationship, since I do not agree that your involvement in this activity is warranted. We have more than enough security and law enforcement personnel as it stands.”

  Uhura waited, staring him down. She didn’t bother to comment on what he’d just said since they both knew one more person wasn’t going to tip the balance in any way. She wasn’t sure what, exactly, the real reason was, but it wasn’t that lame excuse.

  The problem with staring down a Vulcan is that it can be difficult to make one uncomfortable enough to force him to speak.

  Uhura broke first. “Try again.”

  She could have sworn she’d seen the barest upturn at the edges of his lips in what some people—not Spock—might even call a smile.

  Although they were already distanced enough from the preparations, Spock pulled Uhura farther off to the side to avoid being overheard. “As you already know, the administration is embarrassed by the events surrounding Cadet Jackson’s death,” he said. “Now that we know a member of the medical faculty is involved, I imagine that the senior officers will be very interested in keeping this unfortunate situation contained. I do not feel that it would be in either of our best interests to bring you into this investigation any further. To put you on their radar, as they say on this planet.”

  They both looked over to see Captain Warde in a heated, whispered conversation with Admiral Bennett. More than a few glances from the senior officers were thrown in their direction. Spock leaned in closer. “I do not feel it would be . . . prudent.”

  It was now Uhura’s turn to smile, which earned her a raised eyebrow from Spock.

  “And you thought you’d never understand personal interactions,” she said, answering his silent question.

  “All right, then,” Warde said, interrupting the discussion. “Time to shut this business down. We go in, access the files, and take every person in the place.”

  Kirk was back on the exam table when Dr. Schaeffer returned. It looked as if he’d never moved from the spot.

  “Cadet,” the doctor said in a solemn tone. Kirk didn’t need to hear anything more. Not that it mattered. “While I understand your frustration, right now is not the best time for this conversation. I need to consult with my associate, who is, unfortunately, unavailable at the moment. Until such time as I can fully consider your situation, I’m going to prescribe a vitamin regime to help you strengthen up for your training.”

  Kirk would have laughed in the doctor’s face if it wouldn’t have blown his cover. A “vitamin regime” was not what cadets were looking for when they came to this clinic for help. Instead, he continued to play his part. “But I really need this. I think you can help me. You have to help me.”

  Dr. Schaeffer backed away from him. “The vitamins will, I’m sure. But that’s the best I can do for the time being. I promise I’ll get back to you soon. We have your contact information on file. You have my word, I will be in touch, Cadet Samuels.”

  “Thank you.”

  Dr. Schaeffer was waiting for Kirk to get off the exam table. He knew if he went out to the reception area, his mission was a bust. “Can you give me a minute?” he asked. “I wasn’t expecting to leave here without . . .” He looked down at the floor.

  “Of course,” the doctor said. “But if you’ll excuse me, I have other patients to tend to.”

  “Fine,” Kirk said. He didn’t lift his head until he heard the door open and close again. Then he hopped off the exam table and waited outside the range of the door sensor. Didn’t want it to open up while the doctor was still out in the hall. After a thirty count, Kirk took a step into the sensor range and the door opened swiftly.

  The hall was empty.

  To his left was the waiting room. To his right, more exam rooms and, hopefully, the doctor’s private office. Kirk took a step into the hall and turned toward the direction he thought he might find some answers.

  All the doors he passed matched the door to the exam room he’d been in. He continued down the hall quickly, not bothering to try any of them. If he reached the end without coming up on one that looked different, he’d systematically work his way backward. The last thing he wanted was to walk in on someone’s examination. Considering some of the sketchy characters that had been in the waiting room, it probably wasn’t very safe to intrude on someone during a private moment.

  The problem solved itself when the last door in the hall was so different from the others that it practically screamed out, “This is the place!”

  Kirk hadn’t seen many doors like it in his lifetime. It was wooden. Possibly walnut. Stained a deep brown, and appearing quite formidable. He placed his hand on the brass knob. Good thing he’d had some experience with doors like these. Some of his friends back home probably wouldn’t know how to open it. Doorknobs went out of fashion long before Kirk’s parents we born.

  The answers he sought were possibly behind that door. He took a deep breath, turned the knob, and pushed.

  It didn’t budge.

  Locked.

  Again, not such a problem for Kirk. His stepfather had a passion for classic antiques. The door to his private study also had a doorknob with a lock. It wasn’t the same type of lock as this one, but not different enough that Kirk couldn’t figure out how to pick it. He’d become a pro at breaking into his stepfather’s inner sanctum. There was never anything interesting there, but Kirk liked the idea of knowing he’d been someplace he wasn’t permitted. He hoped to do that again now.

  All he needed was the right equipment.

  A quick dash back down the hall, and Kirk returned to the exam room he’d been in earlier. The door closed behind him just as a nurse stepped out of a room across the hall. He was lucky she didn’t see him. Luckier still that the reception nurse hadn’t come looking for him yet.

  He probably only had a few minutes. Best n
ot to linger.

  A quick search of the cabinet revealed several instruments that could prove useful. He first picked up a metal device about the size of an old pencil. He pressed a button and three tiny lasers formed a pyramid at the top of the tube. No good.

  A quick scan of the shelf revealed another slender tube. This one had a tiny metal hook on the end. He shuddered to think what it could be used for in a medical capacity, but it would serve his need perfectly.

  With tool in hand, he stepped back toward the door, listening in the hall for silence. The coast seemed clear, so he tripped the sensor and stepped out. His luck held. The return trip was faster than the first. He reached the locked door, inserted the sliver of metal into the lock, and went to work.

  It was slower going than his stepfather’s study door. Being out of practice and working with a different lock hampered the effort. But within two minutes, he heard the telltale click that signified success.

  He gave the knob a turn, and the door opened an inch. He held his breath as he pushed the door all the way open. It would be just his luck to go to all that trouble, only to end up in a supply closet.

  The door swung open, activating the lights that illuminated the space. It was the doctor’s private office, just as he’d suspected. It was also a total throwback to an earlier time.

  Kirk’s stepfather would have died had he seen the place. The room looked like it had been lifted right out of the past. It was full of antique furniture, including an old mahogany desk. Leather-bound books lined the shelves. Paintings adorned the wall. And something totally unexpected sat on the desk.

  He stepped onto the plush carpeting and moved around the desk to get a good look at the ancient device. It was an early generation computer. Had to be more than two hundred years old.

  The computer was in two sections, joined by a hinge in the middle that attached the keyboard to the monitor. It was portable, like a PADD, but considerably more cumbersome. He considered just taking the device, but he didn’t want to go walking around with evidence on him.

  He tapped a random key to bring the computer to life. It seemed to be in perfect working order, refurbished to modern specs, but still with its classic design.

  Kirk was surprised that the information wasn’t encrypted or even that a password wasn’t required. He suspected that the doctor thought no one would know how to get past his locked door.

  A folder marked “Test Subjects” revealed the computer’s secrets to him. It was like Dr. Schaeffer wanted to be found out. Multiple files with more than a dozen cadets’ names filled the screen. He hadn’t expected so many students to have gone this route.

  Cadet Jackson’s name was at the top of the list, along with Cadet Andros’s. They both had notations next to their names, indicating the procedures they had undergone: nerve reconstruction and altered metabolism.

  The rest of the cadets all had the same notation beside their names: gene therapy. Monica Lynne’s name was in the middle of that list. Ten other cadets had been through the same procedure. Surprisingly, there was no listing for Thanas. Kirk had been ready to bet money that he was involved somehow.

  Now came the difficult part. What to do with the rest of the information?

  A quick review of the top two folders revealed that the information in Cadet Jackson’s and Cadet Andros’s files would be enough to tie the doctor to them. Kirk was no legal expert, but he’d been in enough trouble in his life to know what law enforcement could do with just a little information. Those two files contained more than just a little information.

  Kirk attached those files to an e-mail he’d started from Dr. Schaeffer’s account and sent them to Captain Warde. Mission accomplished.

  Almost.

  He next deleted Lynne’s file from the computer by dragging it to the trash receptacle icon. That seemed a little too easy to him. There had to be more. It took an additional couple minutes of digging through the computer files to realize another few steps were required to wipe it from the hard drive. Then it was gone for good.

  Kirk was about to slip out of the office when the rest of the files caught his eye again. Once Captain Warde received Jackson’s and Andros’s files, she would put a trace on the communication and follow it back to this office. Then she’d find the other cadet files. Other cadets who had been led astray just as easily as Lynne. They’d be drummed out of the Academy. Their only crime? Wanting too much to fit the Starfleet mold.

  Would Starfleet Academy really need the rest of the files? Sure, it would help make a better case against the doctor. Put him away for a longer time. But could Kirk do that at the expense of the other students? Even if Dr. Schaeffer didn’t serve too long, it wasn’t like he’d ever be able to practice medicine on Earth ever again. In the end, that would serve the greatest good.

  Before he could talk himself out of it, Kirk deleted the rest of the files, leaving the two files he’d forwarded where they were. He’d been in the office too long. He had to get out of there before the nurse came looking for him.

  Kirk heard the commotion the moment he opened the door. Law enforcement officials announced themselves out in the reception area. They told everyone not to move. They were storming the clinic.

  How did they get here so fast?

  Heads popped out from the exam rooms. Faces bore expressions that varied from confusion to fear. Some patients were genuinely surprised that the clinic would be raided. Others almost expected it, as if they lived in anticipation of a daily run-in with the law. Kirk was familiar with that look.

  He shut the door. There was no way Starfleet could have received the communiqué he’d sent and gotten over to the office this quickly. Even if they used transporters.

  It figured they’d choose to raid the place the night he’d come. He could probably talk his way out of it, but he didn’t want to chance it. The last thing he needed was a mark on his record to put him under even more scrutiny.

  There was no locking mechanism on this side of the door. He’d need a key. Even with his skill, he wasn’t sure he could lock it with his makeshift pick in time. That would only be a delaying tactic, anyway. Starfleet officers knew how to get through most doors.

  A hiding spot was out of the question. They were going to tear this place apart.

  That only left the window.

  Like everything else in the office, the window opened manually. It took Kirk a moment to find the brass lock and twist it into the unfastened position. He lifted the window and leaned his head out the window.

  Three stories up. Not a deadly height, but not a good one, either. He could hear the officers coming down the hall.

  Spock stood back and let the security officers clear the hall. Captain Warde had detained the doctor in charge, and was questioning him in the first exam room. A variety of other unsavory characters were being led out to reception so the law enforcement officers could determine who was involved and who was simply an innocent bystander.

  The old wooden door at the end of the hall drew Spock’s attention. The anachronism stood out like a Klaxon in the otherwise modern office suite. The door failed to open when Spock approached. He suspected that the brass device attached midway in height was some kind of mechanism that would allow entrance. He took the metal in hand and gave it a twist, expecting resistance. There was none.

  The door opened with a gentle push, revealing a peek into a room from another time. Spock’s hand went to the phaser attached at his hip. He removed the weapon from its holster, preparing for whatever could lie beyond that door as he pushed it fully open.

  The room was empty save for an expensive collection of antiquities. Spock holstered his phaser and moved to the ancient computing device. He’d learned to work with such an item in his Earth history class. Cadet Jackson’s file was conveniently already up on the screen. “How fortuitous,” he said to himself. The comment came more out of curiosity than anything.

  “What’s that?” Captain Warde asked from the doorway as she took in the room. “Whew, c
heck this place out.”

  “I have found the file on Cadet Jackson,” Spock reported as he searched through the computer for more information. “And one on Cadet Andros as well.”

  “Funny thing,” Warde said. “I just got a call from my office. Lieutenant Frango was coordinating the operation from there for me. Seems someone sent those same files only moments ago. The communication trail tied right back to this room. Probably to that very computer.”

  “Fascinating,” Spock said as Warde took over at the computer.

  “Did you see anyone exit this room?” Warde asked.

  “No,” Spock replied, his eyes drifting to the open window. He and Warde shared a curious look. Spock went over to the window. They were on the third floor. A fall from that height would be harmful, but probably not deadly.

  The fog rolling in obscured the alley below, making it impossible to see anyone running off into the night.

  Uhura was surprisingly awake even though she hadn’t slept at all. The infiltration of the clinic wasn’t nearly as interesting as she thought it would be, considering she’d been more than a block away from the building when it happened. She really couldn’t argue with Spock about not wanting her involved. If this experience had taught her anything, it was that sometimes it was best not to stand out from her peers.

  Once everyone who worked at the clinic had been carted off for questioning, there really hadn’t been anything to do. Captain Warde had gone off to interrogate the doctor. Spock had to stay with local law enforcement while they took inventory of the clinic, searching for clues.

  She’d been pretty much left on her own.

  When she got back to her room, she wasn’t surprised to find that her roommate was out having a late night. She tried to get some sleep, but the curiosity kept her awake. So many unanswered questions. She hadn’t expected Spock to contact her in the middle of the night when he was done with the investigation, but she’d hoped he would.

  By sunrise it was clear that her busy mind wasn’t going to let her get any rest. She got up, had a good breakfast in the mess hall, then went to the observation deck to study. Well, that wasn’t the real reason she’d gone to the observation deck.