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Star Trek-TOS-027-Mindshadow

Page 2

by Kevin Underwood


  noise he has lived with all his life until

  one day it finally

  stops. The internal hum of the Enterprise's

  engines,

  the whine of the turbolift, the flat mechanical

  voice of

  the computer . . . he'd never noticed how loud his

  technologically superior world was, until now,

  sitting

  in this very quiet place, listening to the crackle and

  hiss of Natahia's fire.

  Perhaps her people had a point.

  "A bloody shame," Scott said into the fire,

  his face

  glowing from the heat. He too seemed half

  hypnotized

  by the quiet inside the hut.

  "What's that?"

  "It's just a bloody shame for anyone to think of

  attackin' these people. They mean no one any harm,

  and it's such a lovely place."

  "I can't remember when I was in a place that was

  more beautiful."

  Scott sighed. "Being here almost makes

  up for shore

  leave."

  "Almost," Kirk agreed. "Tell you what,

  Scotty. If

  you and Spock get those shields up and we can be

  sure

  we've cleaned up all the pirates caught under

  it, maybe

  I can convince Star Fleet to let us kill two

  birds with

  one stone and send our people down."

  "I'd be all for that, Captain. I just hope that

  Natahia

  person wouldn't object. She doesn't seem

  to be too

  keen on outsiders--" He broke off as

  Natahia emerged

  from behind the curtain.

  She gestured toward Kirk. "Your Doctor

  McCoy

  says that you may ask Grower Mahali some questions

  now if you like." She held the tapestry aside for

  Kirk

  and followed him into the room, where she watched

  silently from a corner.

  Definitely not one to trust outsiders.

  The only light in the room came from a torch that

  MINDSHADOW

  flickered on the wall. The small form that

  McCoy

  hovered over was nearly obscured by the shadows;

  Kirk could hardly see its wounds, but he

  realized with

  horror the overpowering smell which filled the room

  came from burned flesh, not the wood from the fire.

  "Burning phasers," McCoy hissed

  furiously.

  "I thought those had been outlawed by just about

  everybody."

  "They have. Renegades must have done this. I

  don't even think the Klingons would stoop so low."

  McCoy's hypospray hissed, and he

  straightened over

  the small figure stretched out on a blanket

  on the floor.

  "He's coming to now, Jim. He's badly burned

  and in

  shock, but he can answer a few easy questions.

  Natahia

  says his name is Mahali."

  The golden man stirred painfully. Kirk

  knelt on the

  floor next to him, swallowing his revulsion as the

  smell

  of charred flesh intensified. "Mahali . . .

  when you

  were attacked this morning, what did you see?"

  Mahali's thin high-pitched voice was cracked

  and

  tearful. "In the sky, silver triangles . .

  . light poured

  from them, and heat. It burned our crops."

  "How many ships?"

  "Two. No time to run..." His voice became

  a sob.

  "My sons... my sons..."

  "Surface fighters," Kirk murmured.

  "What are they?" Natahia spoke suddenly from

  the

  dark corner.

  "A type of vessel used by certain of the

  Federation's

  enemies, and also by some renegade pirate

  groups."

  Natahia turned to McCoy. "Can you

  help him,

  Doctor?"

  "He'll live, Natahia. But it will be some time

  before

  he's completely recovered."

  She nodded almost gratefully and led Kirk

  outside to

  Scott and the fire. He was relieved to get

  away from

  the smell of the Aritanian's burns.

  "Grower Mahali had five sons this morning,"

  she

  said softly. "Now he has none."

  Scott stood up in his place in front of the

  fire. "It's a

  terrible thing that these raiders have done to your

  people, ma'am. This is a lovely place and I

  kinna

  understand why they would want to harm ye or your land .

  But you can believe Captain Kirk when he says

  that we'll put an end to it."

  "I hope that you are right. I cannot understand them

  myself. They take nothing from us that I can see. They

  kill the growers, then destroy the crops

  and the

  land. They do not even eat the food. It is a

  horrible

  waste."

  "Have you done anything to try to protect yourselves,

  such as banding together?"

  "Growers do not band together, Captain, for battle

  or any other purpose. Each family takes

  care of its

  own needs; we value our autonomy. We have

  no

  weapons, and so we are helpless against the

  pirates."

  "There is something here, Natahia, which is very

  valuable to the pirates, or they would not be

  attacking

  your people. Even renegades must have a reason for

  staying and killing in one area for so long. When

  Mr.

  Spock returns, perhaps he can tell us what the

  pirates

  are looking for."

  She moved toward the door of the hut and peered

  out into what was now inky darkness. "He should

  have returned by now. It's very dangerous for

  one

  alone in the darkness near the mountains. The

  animals

  prowl, and one can easily lose one's step along

  the

  edge of the plateau."

  Kirk looked beyond her at the moonless night, but

  could see nothing. "It's been more than five

  minutes,

  MINDSHADOW

  hasn't it? Spock is very punctual . . .

  maybe we'd

  better go look for him."

  "You must wait until morning. It isn't safe

  --"

  "We have weapons and light. I'm sure that

  Spock

  can protect himself, but he's been gone longer than

  he

  said he would, and that isn't like him. Scotty!"

  "Coming, sir."

  "Natahia, if we're not back in fifteen

  minutes, have

  Dr. McCoy call the ship."

  Her expression was anxious. "I hope

  that you find

  your friend, Captain."

  "We will," Kirk said confidently.

  They found him.

  They had searched the area near the mountains

  where the plateau broke off abruptly, beginning

  again

  after a drop of some four hundred feet. Scott

  put off suggesting that they turn the handlight on the

  plateau

  below until they had searched everywhere else.

  Re
luctantly,

  Scott peered down, careful of his own steps

  along the edge of the drop. Kirk searched a short

  distance away; the height was beginning to make him

  dizzy, and his eyes were refusing to focus on the

  slender beam of light so far below.

  He was calling the Enterprise to tell Chekhov

  to

  search with the scanners when-he saw Scott stiffen

  and

  draw his head up quickly, and he knew with

  heartsickening

  certainty what the engineer saw. He ran

  to Scott's side, and, clutching his arm, was

  compelled to

  look down at what he could not bear to see.

  "Dear

  God, Spock!"

  Spock lay on his left side on a bed of the

  tangling red

  vines.

  McCoy's face was gray as he leaned against the

  wall

  in sick bay. "He'll make it, Jim."

  Kirk closed his eyes and let his body go limp

  with

  relief. They had not expected Spock

  to survive.

  "I've reconstructed the damaged part of his

  skull,

  set the broken bones. One lung was punctured,

  but

  that'll mend." McCoy paused.

  "But?" Kirk stiffened. He knew that tone; it

  meant

  that the doctor was saving the worst for last.

  "There's been a significant amount of damage

  to the

  left hemisphere of the brain."

  Kirk drew a weary hand across his forehead and

  stared dully at McCoy. "What are you trying

  to tell

  me? What will that do to Spock?"

  "There are a lot of variables involved, Jim.

  We

  won't know exactly for a little while yet. I'll

  have to do some testing."

  Kirk's tone became indignant. "You can do

  something

  for him, can't you?"

  McCoy sighed deeply, and when he spoke again

  there was a slightly sharp edge to his words.

  "I've

  done what I can for him, Captain. We're

  treating him

  with alpha-dextran for ischemia in those brain

  cells that

  survived but were cut off from the blood flow--but I

  can't reconstruct brain tissue that was

  completely

  obliterated, and it's too specialized to clone.

  It's likely

  that at least a few functions have been

  impaired--comwh

  ones permanently, I don't know yet. What

  we

  have to hope for is that Spock will retrain the

  undamaged

  brain cells to take over the functions of those that

  were lost.

  "And some functions have definitely been affected.

  He hasn't gone into the Vulcan healing mode and

  he

  isn't controlling the pain. I've got him on

  medication

  for that. From the location of the damage, he probably

  has some speech impairment... but then, I'm

  guessing.

  You see, Vulcans don't have lateralization of

  function as we humans do. that is, the left

  side of the

  MINDSHADOW

  brain controlling certain functions and the right others.

  The Vulcan brain has an area controlling

  speech on

  each side of the brain. If one hemisphere is

  damaged,

  the other can take over. It's sort of an

  auxiliary

  backup system. They're also ambidextrous.

  Since neither

  hemisphere is dominant, neither side of the body

  is either."

  "But Spock's right-handed," Kirk protested.

  "That's right. Comes from his mother's side Of the

  family. That indicates that certain functions are

  probably

  located on one side of his brain, just as they are

  in

  humans. And if he has experienced some

  damage to a

  function that is not lateralized in both

  hemispheres, he

  will need some type of therapy so that he can relearn

  the function. But he is a unique case. If

  he were all

  Vulcan or all human, I'd be able to use the

  standardized

  tests on him and I'd know a little bit more right

  now."

  "Look, Bones... I didn't mean to sound

  hostile for a minute there..."

  McCoy nodded, his lips curving slightly in

  something

  less than a tired smile. "It's all right,

  Jim. I'm

  just sorry I can't tell you more right now, but I'm

  going to have to watch and wait myself. I've already

  put in a request for a Vulcan neurologist."

  "I wouldn't hold my breath," Kirk said. Star

  Fleet

  was notoriously slow about such matters.

  "I won't. And Jim . . ." His face

  darkened again.

  "Don't hold yours, either. He'll pull through,

  but it'll

  be a long time before he's the old Spock again."

  He did

  not say, if ever.

  Kirk looked beyond McCoy into the dimness of the

  intensive care unit in sick bay. The light

  of the life-function

  monitor softly illuminated the figure on the

  bed below. Spock lay on his back now, his face

  as

  peaceful as it had been when Jim and Scott had

  first

  found him; but this time his damaged left side was

  visible. Kirk repressed a shudder. He and

  McCoy had

  waited by Spock's side in the darkness for the

  transporter

  to beam them aboard, McCoy insisting that

  Spock not be moved except by the medical team

  waiting in the transporter room. The real

  horror came

  in the brightness of the transporter room, where Kirk

  could see the extent of Spock's injuries

  clearly, when

  McCoy and a medic gently turned Spock over

  to place

  him on the stretcher, revealing for the first time his

  crushed left side.

  Kirk could not remember ever having been so

  terrified

  by the sight of anything before.

  McCoy had done an excellent job of

  reconstructing

  the Vulcan's damaged left temple, but in

  spite of the

  surgery, Spock's pale face was mottled with

  dark

  green bruises. His left eye was nearly

  swollen shut.

  "Jim," McCoy said softly, reading the pain in

  his

  friend's face. "I think you're overdue for some

  rest.

  When's the last time you got some sleep?"

  Kirk murmured something unintelligible.

  "Look, let me give you something to help you

  sleep--"

  "No thanks, Doctor. I'd just as soon

  keep busy for a

  little while longer..." He looked at McCoy

  sharply. was One might ask you the same question."

  "I... uh, I'm going to keep an eye on

  Spock for just

  a little while longer .... his

  Kirk closed his eyes and pushed the image of

  Spock

  in the transporter room firmly from his mind.

>   "Bones,

  call me when he comes to. I'll be on the

  bridge. I have

  some questions that need to be answered."

  Kirk avoided all eyes on the

  bridge and headed

  straight for the con, his gaze fixed straight ahead

  on

  MINDSHADOW

  the viewscreen where Aritani rotated slowly on

  its

  axis.

  "Captain, Mr. Scott is calling from the

  planet surface,"

  Uhura said, but there was a hesitation, a kind of

  catch in her voice, as though she wanted to ask a

  question but did not dare. Kirk turned toward her in

  irritation, not understanding until he saw the concern

  in her eyes. He did not need to look behind him

  to

  know the others were watching him with the same

  expression. Of course they had heard what

  happened

  on Aritani below, and after seeing the grim

  expression

  on their captain's face, they probably

  expected the

  worst.

  "Mr. Spock will be . . . will live," he said

  shortly.

  Uhura's shoulders relaxed visibly; Kirk

  could hear

  Chekhov release a sigh behind him.

  "On audio, sir," she smiled.

  Kirk sat in his chair. "How's it going, Mr.

  Scott?"

  "The shield is up, Captain, and workin' just

  fine. I'd

  like to give Ensign Lanz some credit for the fine

  job

  she did helpin' me."

  "Noted."

  "How's Mr. Spock?"

  "He'll live," Kirk repeated dully.

  "Thank God, that was a horrible fall he took

  --"

  "Did you get a complete tricorder readout

  yet on

  those mountains?"

  "Aye, Captain, and Mr. Spock was right

  to suspect

  something. The land's full of uritanium and

  dilithium,

  not to mention other precious metals."

  Kirk put a weary hand to his forehead.

  "Uritanium

  and dilithium--no wonder these people have visitors."

  "Aye, sir, anyone with mining equipment could

  make more than a credit or two on this

  planet."

  "Good work, Scotty. We'll start beaming

  personnel

  down for shore leave in eight hours. In the

  meantime,

  we'll see if that shield of yours---"

  "--and Ensign Lanz..".

  "---and Ensign Lanz catches us some

  pirates."

  "Well, sir, if you ask me, it seems

  terribly quiet and

  peaceful down here, nary a peep of trouble.

  Ensign

  Lanz and I could take a little shore leave right

  now." Scott wheedled.

  "I'm not asking you, Engineer. No one will be

  taking shore leave for another eight hours.

  Spock said

  their fuel could only keep them shielded for seven

 

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