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Star Trek-TOS-027-Mindshadow

Page 1

by Kevin Underwood




  Mind Shadow [042 5.0]

  by M J dillard.

  Synopsis:

  To James Kirk, the planet seemed like a

  pastoral paradise when he and

  Spock first beamed down. But when space

  pirates begin ravaging and

  Spock is gravely injured -- his mind

  seemingly destroyed -- Kirk

  realizes that things are not as they seem. The

  planet hides a deadly

  secret, and the key to that secret is locked in

  Spock's brain -- if only

  Spock can remember the secret and communicate

  it to his Captain!

  The sale of this book without its cover is

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  publisher has received payment for the sale of this

  "stripped book."

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  New York

  POCKET BOOKS

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  This book is a work of fiction. Names,

  characters, places and incidents are

  either the product of the author's imagination or are

  used fictitiously. Any

  resemblance to actual events or locales or

  persons, living or dead, is

  entirely coincidental.

  An Original Publication of POCKET

  BOOKS

  POCKET BOOKS, a division of Simon and

  Schuster Inc.

  1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York,

  NY 10020

  Copyright 1986 Paramount Pictures. All

  Rights Reserved.

  (5": STAR TREK is a Registered

  Trademark of

  Paramount Pictures.

  This book is published by Pocket Books, a

  division of

  Simon and Schuster Inc., under exclusive

  license from

  Paramount Pictures.

  All rights reserved, including the right

  to reproduce

  this book or portions thereof in any form

  whatsoever. For information address Pocket Books,

  1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York,

  NY 10020

  ISBN: 0-671-70420-6

  First Pocket Books printing January 1986

  POCKET and colophon are registered

  trademarks of

  Simon and Schuster Inc.

  Printed in the U.s.a.

  Chapter One

  IT WAS LATE afternoon. The sun slid below the

  mountain

  peaks that surrounded the mesas on all sides and

  the sky faded slowly to a dustier shade of blue.

  Kirk

  raised a hand to shield his eyes, not from the fiery

  glow

  of the setting sun, but from colors so vivid and

  intense

  that his optic nerves perceived them as almost painful,

  like dazzling light: the purple of the mountains, the

  brilliant blue of the sky, the incandescent

  golden-red

  of the vines, which crept up the sharp sides

  of the

  mountains and tumbled onto the plateaus below.

  Kirk stood with his men on the tallest plateau in

  the

  valley, between the towering mountains and the terrain-four

  hundred feet below, a tidy patchwork of

  fastidiously tilled fields and trellised

  vines stretching

  almost to the horizon.

  Spock motioned silently with the tricorder, and the

  group crossed a thick blue-green carpet of

  vegetation,

  the humans with their heads tilted back to better

  drink

  in their surroundings, the Vulcan with his eyes on the

  tricorder. They had not gone far at all when

  Kirk

  stopped to fill his lungs with cool damp air.

  "Smell

  that, Doctor."

  McCoy obeyed the order and turned to smile.

  "Well, I'll be... smells like the summer

  jasmine we

  had back home .... his

  "When's the last time you had the chance

  to smell

  wildflowers, Bones?"

  McCoy rolled his eyes even further

  heavenward.

  "I'd rather not think about it, if it's all the same

  to you .... his

  "Too long," sighed Scott, his tone

  approaching reverence.

  He shook his head wi/lly. "I can't believe

  that anybody would want to destroy this . . . ach,

  if

  this place inna a sight for sore eyes .... his

  Spock looked up at last from the tricorder;

  he had

  been studying the readout with such a detached air

  that it seemed doubtful he was aware of the breathtaking

  landscape surrounding him. "Atmosphere

  oxygen-rich,

  Captain, slightly more than Terran standard."

  He

  hesitated for an instant. "Are your eyes

  troubling you,

  Mr. Scott?" he asked blandly.

  Kirk grimaced. It was impossible to tell if

  his first

  officer was taking Scott's remark with typical

  Vulcan literalness, or merely enjoying some odd

  private joke.

  McCoy responded with disgust before the groaning

  engineer could reply. "He's just trying to say that

  it's

  pretty here, Spock. Of course, I'm sure

  that's something

  you wouldn't understand. I'm sure you find that

  tricorder readout infinitely more exciting."

  "I am not incapable of aesthetic appreciation,

  Doctor,"

  Spock replied mildly, apparently not in the

  least

  bit insulted. "However, I must admit to finding

  certain

  data in the readout quite fascinating, particularly the

  concentration of mineral elements in the soil--"

  "Later, Spock." Kirk silenced him with an

  absent-

  MINDSHADOW

  minded wave of his hand, afraid the spell cast

  by the

  planet's beauty might be broken. "How long

  has it

  been since I've been on solid land like this,

  near

  flowers, animals... his

  "Exactly four-point-seven months since our

  last

  shore leave," Spock volunteered.

  "Too long," McCoy muttered to himself.

  Scott's voice was plaintive. "We will be

  taking

  shore leave after we complete this mission, won't

  we,

  sir?"

  "If Star Fleet can't come up with any more
last

  minute distress calls." Kirk's weak smile

  was unconvincing.

  "Let's hope for the best, gentlemen."

  As the light dimmed, the four came upon a small

  well-kept vineyard. Spock reactivated the

  tricorder.

  "Life form reading ahead, Captain.

  Humanoid."

  Beyond the field of trellised golden vines stood

  a

  small hut, nothing more than a mound of dried

  gray

  twigs, homely and awkward compared to its

  glorious

  surroundings. But the to one being who stood in front

  of

  the hut was as striking and deeply colorful as her

  planet. Her skin was golden, her eyes as

  purple as the

  nearby mountains and her brows as sharply

  upswept.

  Silver hair spilled down her back onto a

  cloak the color

  of the sky. She was very, very old, and her demeanor

  was that of one whose age has brought her to expect a

  good deal of respect from her juniors.

  As the aliens approached, she rose to her full

  height

  of four feet and studied them with hooded eyes.

  She

  spoke slowly, neither smiling nor making any form

  of

  obeisance. "I am Natahia, the

  representative of the

  growers of the Aritani."

  Kirk inclined his head slightly in what he

  hoped

  suggested respect. "I am Captain Kirk,

  representative

  of the United Federation of Planets. First

  Officer,

  Commander Spock. Chief Medical Officer,

  Dr.

  Leonard McCoy. Chief Engineer,

  Lieutenant Commander

  Montgomery Scott."

  She did not acknowledge the polite nods

  directed

  toward her. "What protection does the Federation

  offer us? We do not welcome the intervention of

  outsiders, but too many of our people have died."

  Kirk matched her directness. "We can show you

  how to shield your planet using a protective

  device

  that the raiders' ships cannot penetrate. Mr.

  Spock

  and Mr. Scott will install it for you and instruct you

  in

  its operation, and Dr. McCoy is here to help

  your

  wounded."

  Natahia considered this information silently for a

  moment; when she spoke again, her eyes were full of

  Pride and sorrow. "We are a people who revere the

  simplicity of life, Captain. We despise

  technology and

  its resultant complications, for our ancestors

  once

  worshipped it, as you do, and so destroyed themselves.

  We have learned to let the land provide all we

  need. But now we are forced to make use of your

  technology to save our people and our land in order to

  provide. Please understand that we welcome you with

  reluctance." She looked sternly at Kirk.

  "What price

  does the Federation demand for this service?"

  "The Federation asks for nothing. If you wish,

  Aritani may ally itself with us."

  She lifted an arched brow suspiciously.

  "What benefit

  is it to us to join you?"

  "The Federation represents many planets, with no

  favor shown to its stronger members. All

  planets are

  given a voice. We have banded together because together

  we are strong. If Aritani joins, it

  would have a

  say in Federation matters and would receive the

  protection

  of the Federation."

  "The affairs of the Federation are of little concern to

  MINDSHADOW

  us," she said coldly. "What is the penalty if

  we accept

  your protection, but do not join the Federation?"

  "There is no penalty. Our protection is

  freely offered,

  regardless of your decision."

  "Aritani then accepts the protection of the

  Federation,

  Captain Kirk. Talk to us about the glories of

  your

  Federation when the attacks on my people have

  ceased."

  Kirk privately congratulated himself for not

  matching

  her coldness. "Very well," he answered

  politely.

  "We'll beam down the necessary equipment for

  con-structting

  the shields. Mr. Scott and Mr.

  Spock will

  stay here to assemble it for you and show you its

  operation."

  "And if you can show me to your wounded,

  ma'am," McCoy suggested, stepping forward

  slightly.

  "Only one still survives hhis morning's

  attack. The

  ships appear so quickly in the sky, as if from

  nowhere,

  that there is no time for those working in the fields to

  hide. Five died this morning, and their fields

  are

  scorched, useless." She lowered her eyes. "A

  terrible

  thing, to see land destroyed."

  Kirk and McCoy exchanged dark glances.

  Spock,

  however, appeared not to notice her seemingly greater

  concern for her land than for her people.

  "Cloaking devices, Captain," he said. "It

  would

  explain why we detected no vessels in the

  immediate

  area."

  Kirk nodded. "Spock, can you compute the

  maximum

  amount of time that a small pirate vessel could

  operate a cloaking device without refueling?"

  "Certainly, Captain. Of course, it

  requires an enormous

  amount of fuel to operate such a device.

  Depending

  on the type of ship, I would say no more than

  seven-point-four-two hours. That is, of

  course, a

  rough estimate, based on the types of vessels

  currently

  used for surface attacks and known to Star

  Fleet

  Intelligence,--"

  "Thank you," Kirk silenced him. "That is

  sufficient

  for our purposes."

  "Sir... do you propose to trap some of the

  pirate

  vessels beneath the shield?"

  Kirk smiled. "That is exactly what I

  propose to do,

  Mr. Spock."

  "What exactly is this shield?" Natahia

  demanded.

  Spock turned to her. "An electromagnetic

  force that

  repels any physical object coming in contact

  with it.

  The pirate ships will be unable to penetrate it and

  will

  therefore be unable to attack the populace on the

  planet surface. It will also prevent those

  remaining on

  the surface after the installation of the shield from

  escaping."

  "And of course," Kirk added, "if we can succeed

  in

  capturing one of the pirates, we can locate their

  base.

  No doubt it's on a nearby planet or larger

  vessel."

  "Natahia," asked Spock, "do you have any

  idea

  why the pirates have chosen to attack your people?"

&nbs
p; She tilted her face up at him in a small

  gesture of

  uncertainty. "The land is full of many

  things which are

  not important to us. Perhaps the pirates value

  some of

  these things."

  Spock's left eyebrow arched almost

  imperceptibly.

  "Perhaps."

  Natahia looked with concern at the fading sun.

  "It

  will become dark quickly now. Soon it will be

  unsafe

  to be outside. Please come inside, gentlemen,

  while

  Dr. McCoy attends to the injured grower."

  She

  stretched a short arm toward the hut, the regal

  coldness

  in her voice melting slightly. "Accept my

  hospitality."

  There was something about the woman Kirk liked in

  spite of himself. He smiled. "Thank you."

  MINDSHADOW

  Spock turned to him before they crouched down to

  enter the low-ceilinged hut. "Captain, I

  wonder if I

  might examine the mountains for a moment before I

  join you. I have found some interesting indications

  that I would like to verify." His hand touched the

  tricorder.

  Kirk turned to Natahia. "Is that

  permitted?"

  "Provided he does not stay long. When the sun

  has

  set, the night animals come out--then it is

  extremely

  dangerous to be alone outside."

  "My night vision and my hearing are well

  developed

  and will alert me to the presence of predators,"

  Spock

  responded. "And I will not be long."

  "Five minutes," Kirk said.

  "That should be adequate, Captain." The

  Vulcan

  turned to leave.

  "Don't stay out past your bedtime," McCoy

  remarked

  with exaggerated paternalism.

  Kirk and Scott found themselves unable to repress

  grins. Spock frowned and began

  to reply, then stopped

  himself as though suddenly realizing that the doctor's

  statement fell under the context of what humans

  labeled

  humor and was therefore unworthy of recognition.

  "With your permission, Captain." He walked

  stiffly toward the now charcoal-colored mountains

  along the edge of the plateau.

  The sky was indeed darkening rapidly and the

  brilliant

  colors had faded to shades of gray, but inside

  Natahia's hut a large fire fed off the

  abundant supply of

  oxygen and illuminated the interior with dancing

  orange-red

  light. Neat, orderly, primitive. The

  furnishings

  were handmade and crude. Natahia motioned

  Kirk and Scott to sit on the floor before the

  fire while

  she led McCoy behind a loosely woven

  tapestry to

  examine the wounded man.

  Kirk relished the silence as one who never hears

 

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