Spock was so distracted by weariness and the overwhelming volume of facts the library computer was sending that he almost missed the clue. He passed it by, registering it in his subconscious a moment before he realized what he had seen. He ran back to it. There. So small a fact to be so monumentally important, but as he looked at it again, Spock knew this was the answer.
Pike was shocked at Spock’s appearance as the Vulcan entered the briefing room and stood swaying in fatigue before himself and Number One. His complexion was incredibly sallow, and huge black hollows resembling bruises smudged the area under his eyes.
“Captain,” Spock said wearily. “I believe I know who the murderer is.”
“Excellent, Mr. Spock.”
“But I do not know the motive,” Spock went on. “At least, the motive for Meadows’s murder. I believe T’Pris was killed because she was on the track of the murderer’s identity. The reasons for the initial crime are unclear to me.”
“But who is it, Spock?”
Spock levelly met Pike’s look and sidestepped the question. “Sir, I am about to make an unusual request. I hope you will grant it.”
[224] Pike glanced at Number One, frowning slightly. Spock was deliberately keeping the name from them. “Let’s hear it.”
“I want to draw the murderer out on my own. I want to elicit a confession and a motive, and I want every Vulcan on board to be able to hear it, too.”
“Why?” Pike snapped.
“This was a Vulcan execution, not only in method but in one of the victims. A Vulcan committed the murders and stole the Glory.”
Pike stared accusingly at his first officer. “You and Orloff swore all the Vulcans had proven their innocence.”
“They did, sir, positively.”
“Number One is correct, Captain,” Spock interrupted quietly.
“Then what are you talking about?”
Spock’s face hardened, his eyes angrily darkening into implacable coldness. “It would be more correct to say all known Vulcans were proven innocent. Do I have your permission to handle this murderer in my own way?”
Pike didn’t like it. It smelled of personal vengeance, and it seemed totally unlike the Vulcan second officer who had reported aboard only two weeks ago. Pike had a feeling the old Spock would have been appalled at the suggestion of his being an instrument of revenge. The man who faced him now obviously had embraced the idea and was exceedingly willing to carry it out.
“I’m sorry, but I have to question your motives on this, Spock.”
[225] “They are personal, sir. My relationship with Lieutenant T’Pris was ... close. More than that, one Vulcan has committed crimes that cast dishonor on all Vulcans, but particularly on those of this ship. I know the identity of the criminal, but that is not enough. I must know why the crimes were committed. This is a Vulcan matter, Captain. To let anyone else handle it would be ... unacceptable.”
“To you or the others?”
“To all Vulcan, sir.”
Pike thought it over, not liking the idea of security not handling the capture, if Spock was right. Yet Spock had a point if the entire crime—the theft of the Glory and the two murders—did revolve around Vulcans. How the devil could the murderer be a Vulcan and not known to them? Still, however it was, Spock believed he had smelled out the killer and now wanted it to be a Vulcan capture. Given the high sense of Vulcan honor and Spock’s personal involvement with T’Pris, Pike could sympathize with the request.
The captain finally nodded. “Orloff should be present.”
“I will keep the commander informed. Indeed, I will require his assistance in one or two arrangements that need to be made. The culprit will be turned over to security when the time comes.”
“Very well, Mr. Spock. Make your arrangements.”
Caitlin Barry called together all the new engineering personnel after she made sure the dilithium crystal had been properly installed and all tests run to check its soundness and its alignment. The restarting of the [226] warp engines was under way, and the entire system would be on line again in a matter of hours. The engineers stood in front of her at attention in a formal line.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” she said as she moved down the line. “You’re all aware of the existence of a still on this ship. You and I both know that while it’s unusual, there are nonengineering officers who are capable of whipping up a batch of hooch but not many. You and I both know that one of you is the most likely moonshiner.” No one looked at her; all eyes were kept straight ahead. Every face was expressionless. “They tell me the supply that’s been coming out of this particular still has been of an unusually interesting and intoxicating nature. Dr. Boyce and I have discovered there’s a reason for that.”
Caitlin walked over to a long bundle wrapped in a heavy tarp and flipped it open. The tangle of pipes she had discovered in the service closet tumbled out and landed clanging on the deck. Caitlin nudged them with her boot. “These pipes were flooded with a spray of gamma rays. My guess is it happened when the crystal fracture occurred. It wouldn’t have been obvious just by looking at them, but these pipes and tubes have all been contaminated, and so has the ... product that’s been running through them.” She flicked a look along the line of engineers. The expressions were all as stolid as before, except for one. Scott was frowning, his eyebrows pinching together in concern. He seemed about to move forward, and Caitlin quickly went on. “Fortunately, the contamination was low-level, within acceptable limits, and no permanent [227] damage has been done. All known bottles of the hooch have been confiscated and destroyed by Dr. Boyce, and the same is going to happen to these pipes. The inspection scope hole will be repaired this afternoon. I don’t intend to bring this matter up again, and I don’t want any more engine-room hooch brewed up. Understand me, that is no more hooch ever, or there will be some serious penalties laid on the culprit. Is that clear?”
There was a soft chorus of “Yes, ma’am” and a nodding of heads all along the line. Scott swallowed and said, “Other ships have the tradition ...”
“Other ships, Mr. Scott, are not the Enterprise. There are some traditions that should be put to rest. This is one of them, and stopping it starts now. Is that understood?” The acknowledging chorus came again. “All right, then. You’re dismissed.” They fell out, moving away quickly. Scott hesitated a moment and then hesitantly approached her.
“Commander Barry.”
“Yes, Mr. Scott?”
“I’ll have to take out a requisition form for a new tool kit. I think I’ve lost mine.”
“No need. I found one in Service Closet 4. You must have misplaced it and forgotten about it.”
“Oh, aye. That must’ve been it.”
“It’s still there. You can get it any time.”
“Thank you, ma’am.” He started to back away from her, but her voice stopped him.
“You’ll find some pipe fittings and a couple of small jars have been removed from it. But they don’t belong in a tool kit, anyway, do they?”
[228] “No, ma’am.”
“I didn’t think so. Don’t lose that kit again, Mr. Scott.”
“No, ma’am. Never again.” Scott turned and walked away.
The crew cabin was a single, smaller than Spock’s but with enough room for one person to make himself at home. Even in the semidarkness, Spock was aware of the starkness of the decor. Either the occupant had not yet had time to add the homey touches that would make the cabin uniquely his own, or he preferred the plain standard-issue design. Spock guessed this particular crewman felt the severity of the unadorned cabin was more desirable. Everything of a personal nature was stowed in drawers and the closet. The room was kept warmer than most; Spock found it quite comfortable as he sat there waiting.
The surveillance equipment, tiny and unobtrusive, had been efficiently installed by engineering. Orloff alone had supervised the security arrangements Spock had specified, not without argument. Whatever transpired in this room would be transmitted
audio-visually to several points on the ship where Pike and Number One, Orloff, and all the Vulcans on board would receive it. Spock felt it necessary that these be his witnesses.
The cabin door slid open, and a man stepped in. As the portal slid closed behind him, he reached out to touch a light sensor on the wall. A red-orange glow warmed the room, revealing Spock. The man jerked around toward him, startled.
“Lieutenant Spock. What’re you doing here?”
[229] Spock rose and moved a step forward. “Waiting for you.”
“Is there something I can do for you?”
“I am here to discuss the murders of Commander Meadows and Lieutenant T’Pris and the theft of the Glory.”
“I think the chief of security would be more helpful to you, Lieutenant.”
Spock shook his head slowly, studying the man coldly. “He knows very little about Vulcans. This was a Vulcan crime from start to finish. Both Meadows and T’Pris were killed with the lan-dovna technique. The object of the crime was the Glory. Meadows was just a tool to acquiring it, but he had to die because he would reveal the criminal’s identity. The first suspects were the Vulcans who had no alibi. We all thought only a Vulcan could possibly have committed the crime.”
The other man stared at him, waiting, his face expressionless.
“Then the murderer made a mistake,” Spock coldly went on. “He used the same method of execution on Lieutenant T’Pris when all the other Vulcans were under surveillance and I was on Areta. That was a stupid move, very non-Vulcan, because it exonerated all the known Vulcan crew. T’Pris may not have concluded the same thing I have—that the murderer must be a Vulcan who is not known to be one or is not obvious as one—but she was on the right trail to discover his identity.
“As soon as I considered all the implications, I realized how that could be, because I am half human and half Vulcan. My father’s genes dominate, and I [230] am physically more Vulcan than human. But go ahead a generation or two, breed a Vulcan-human to a human and then to a human again. Ultimately, the human side will dominate, in appearance and in all important physical aspects.”
“It takes one to know one. Is that what you’re saying?”
Spock ignored the comment. “T’Pris had been going back through the permanent records, the family histories of every crew member. I was able to reconstruct the trail of her investigation. You do not understand enough about the library computer to know that any record can be retrieved by a knowledgeable operator even if it has been erased. She was close to discovering what I did, that one man aboard who is seemingly human has a Vulcan heritage. It had to be you, Lieutenant Reed. You allowed Meadows to take the Glory from the vault, and your great-grandmother was the daughter of one of the high clans of Vulcan. I do not understand why the name in the records is given as T’Dess Alar-ken-dasmin. That is a matriarchal designation of house, a renunciation of her father’s name.”
“Why should she keep the name of a father who abandoned her after she was raped and nearly beaten to death by a human adventurer?” Reed snapped harshly. “She was an innocent, caught alone and savagely violated by an alien pig for his pleasure. He escaped Vulcan justice, but T’Dess’s family couldn’t bear the disgrace of what had been done to her. Her father cast her out, to live or die or make her way on her own. The only one who helped her was her mother. She gave T’Dess enough money to make [231] passage to Earth. A fitting banishment, when you think of it.”
Spock considered it, troubled by the story. “I can understand that. I do not understand how she was able to become pregnant with—”
“My grandmother.” Reed grinned sardonically at Spock, enjoying himself for the moment. “You know, we heard about you, the great genetic accomplishment. The mating of a Vulcan and a human. You were famous on Vulcan. Created and produced by almost the finest geneticists in the known galaxy.” He chuckled nastily. “A Vulcan conceit, Spock. Vulcan arrogance. Just because Vulcans hadn’t tried it before, they thought it had never been done.
“But it had been. Privately funded genetics labs on Earth were way ahead of them on that kind of life engineering—had been for about a hundred years. The human T’Dess worked for as a servant was wealthy, and old, and had never had a child. T’Dess was grateful to him for taking her in. She agreed to marry him and bear the child the geneticists designed. Once my grandmother was born, they had the techniques down pat. After she married, Great-granddad wanted a grandchild to sit on his knee before he died. My father was created without half the trouble and in half the lab time as Grandmother. It’s simple when you know how to do it, Spock. You were an idea whose time had come on Earth about sixty years before you were even thought of on Vulcan.”
Spock’s eyes strayed away from the man, considering the story. “Your family has a history of good citizenship on Earth. Why did you—” As he brought his head up, Reed drove at him, right hand stretched [232] rigidly to deliver the lan-dovna hold to his throat. Spock lurched out of the way, off balance, but was caught by a glancing neck pinch that caused him to gray out for a moment. Reed shot past him as he tried to regain his senses. The door slid open and closed as the murderer fled into the corridor.
Spock cursed himself for seven kinds of a fool. He had forgotten his opponent was still part Vulcan, and the Vulcan traits of strength and quickness had apparently not faded, even though diluted by human blood. He ran for the door, knowing that Orloff would be activating security to try to head off Reed. He cursed himself again. The human—or was it Vulcan?—fault of vanity. He had been so sure he could confront and take the man by himself that he had insisted that Orloff not make many security precautions. The elevators would be covered, of course. As he glanced right and left, he saw Reed vanishing around a corner. There were no lifts in that direction, but there was a Jefferies tube.
Spock pulled his communicator, flipping open the lid. “Spock to security. Officer Reed is escaping Quarters Deck 4 utilizing the interconnecting service tube. I believe he will be heading for a transporter room. I am in pursuit.” He bolted after Reed.
A Jefferies tube ran the length of the ship in several areas, connecting all decks and serving as a general maintenance corridor for a number of ship function networks. Shorter tubes in different areas had more specialized uses. The one Reed had ducked into was a major tube connecting with all deck levels. Reed had ignored the rungs of the ladder leading down the tube. Spock could see him far below, using the descent [233] method of grabbing onto the sides of the ladder and sliding down, employing the feet as brakes. Even as Spock watched, Reed reached the level he wanted, stopped, and triggered the service door into the corridor. Spock did not waste time with the communicator. He jumped to the ladder and followed Reed down.
Security Lieutenant Bryce arrived at the door of Transporter Room 3 a step behind Spock. It was the only transporter room close to the exit of the Jefferies tube on this deck and the logical choice for Reed’s escape. The door slid open at their approach, and they charged in to find the chief lying on the deck and the last vibrant humming of a beam-down fading away. Bryce quickly checked the downed chief while Spock examined the transporter controls. They would be locked on the coordinates Reed had chosen. Bryce looked up, nodding at Spock. “Only unconscious.”
Spock slapped the intercom on the transporter console. “Spock to Pike.”
“Here,” Pike answered instantly.
“Reed has beamed down to the planet surface.”
“Can you tell where?”
“The coordinates indicate the Druncara Range, sir.”
“Mutant territory.”
“I am beaming down after him, sir.”
“Wait. I’d better come with you.”
“Captain, there is no time to waste. I am beaming down alone ... now.”
“Spock, damn it—”
“Sir, it is my fault he escaped. I am taking the responsibility of bringing him back.” He tapped off [234] the intercom before Pike could reply and hurried toward the transporter platform,
speaking over his shoulder to Bryce. “Activate the transporter as soon as I am on the pad, Lieutenant.”
“Better take this with you.” Bryce tossed Spock his own phaser pistol. He indicated the chief still unconscious on the deck. “He took the chief’s phaser with him.”
“Thank you, Bryce.” Spock was positioned on the pad. “Energize.”
Bryce carefully moved the energizing levers on the console. The deep-throated hum of the transporter began, quickly rising to a high whine as the spill of energy covered Spock’s body, and he was gone.
Pike burst into the transporter room, saw the empty chamber, and whirled on Bryce. “You let him go.”
“I don’t think there was much I could have done to stop him, sir.”
“Beam me down to those coordinates, Lieutenant.”
“Yes, sir. If you order it, sir.” Bryce slowly turned to the transporter console.
Pike hesitated, reconsidering it. Spock had wanted this to be his capture. He had said several times that it was a Vulcan matter, an affair of honor. Pike realized it was more than that to Spock. T’Pris’s death weighed on Spock’s mind. If Number One’s theory was correct, the two were probably lovers. Pike knew that if he and Janeese had been on the same ship and she had been murdered, he would have allowed no one to stand in the way of his vengeance. A human emotion, an understandable one. And Spock was half human—fighting to hide it but subject to the demands it made on his emotions. Pike looked at Bryce and shrugged. [235] “Let’s see how Spock handles it. Stay here until another transporter chief relieves you.”
Boyce arrived at the transporter room with his medical bag and began to check the unconscious chief. He looked up at Pike and smiled. “Nothing more than a physical knockout, Chris. He’ll be all right in a few more minutes.” He bent over the man to administer further aid, and Pike moved to the intercom on the transporter console.
STAR TREK: TOS #44 - Vulcan's Glory Page 18
