Star Trek-TOS-027-Mindshadow

by Kevin Underwood

  done it at last--they had a pirate, and now his

  ship. He

  called Scott.

  "Scotty, I've got a pirate ship on the

  surface we

  need someone to disassemble and beam up here.

  Think you can find some volunteers who'll risk

  it?"

  "Aye, that we can," Scott said exuberantly.

  "Did

  we catch a pirate, Captain?"

  "That we did, Scotty."

  Scott emitted a low rumble in his throat.

  "I'm not

  responsible for what I might do to him, sir.

  What kind

  is he?"

  "I'll know soon, Scotty. I'm on my

  way down to the

  brig now. How soon can you get some people down

  there?"

  "Yesterday, sir."

  The Vulcanoid behind the force field was tall,

  lean

  and aristocratic of bearing, but there the similarity

  ended; the expression of open hatred on his face

  negated the possibility of his being a native of

  Vulcan.

  Romulan, then; but he did not fit Kirk's

  idea of what a

  Romulan should look like, for he did not wear his

  hair

  in the Romulan style. Thick and wavy, it was

  brushed

  straight back from the widow's peak on his forehead

  and curled onto his shoulders. Nor did he wear

  the

  sedate Romulan military uniform; his bright

  red tunic

  fit snugly underneath a long, loose-fitting

  vest.

  He had apparently not been blessed with the discipline

  and courtesy of the Romulan culture, for as

  Kirk

  approached the brig he spat at him. The

  spittle hit the

  force field and slid to the floor of the brig without

  hitting its target.

  It did not surprise Kirk to see a

  Romulan dressed as

  a pirate. The Praetor's Empire placed

  heavy demands

  on its subjects; nothing less than excellence

  was accepted,

  whether one served the Praetor in the military

  or as a civilian, and dropouts were not tolerated

  within

  the society. Those who did not fit into the spartan

  way

  of life were dispatched, or they escaped to become

  outcasts... or pirates.

  "Murderous whelp!" The pirate cursed

  Kirk.

  Kirk answered coolly in his best imitation of his

  first

  officer. "I've murdered no one. The death of

  your

  cohort was an accident. You, on the other hand, have

  no doubt killed a number of

  Aritanians and quite

  possibly some of my people as well. What were you

  doing under our protective shield?"

  The Romulan eyed Kirk as though he were

  insane.

  "Shield? I encountered no shield."

  "Perhaps you used a shield neutralizer." Kirk

  watched carefully for a reaction. "Are you working for

  the Praetor?"

  The Romulan laughed scathingly. "Shield

  neutralizer!

  You are a stupid human. I work for no one but

  myself."

  "What were you doing on Aritani?"

  "My friend and I were merely flying over the planet

  surface when you attacked us--"

  "We beamed you aboard," Kirk said calmly.

  "Yes, and in your incompetence, you killed my

  friend to And you accuse me of killing people--"

  Kirk leaned forward, his voice so soft the

  Romulan

  had to strain to hear it. "I regret that. I would like

  to

  MINDSHADOW

  have two of you, so you could try to corroborate

  each other's story. Why wasn't your cloaking

  device

  on?"

  The Romulan's eyes widened. "Such

  accusations! I

  don't know what you're talking about."

  "We'll see. We have your ship."

  "I don't believe you." The Romulan's

  sneer faded

  slightly.

  "It really doesn't matter," Kirk continued in

  the

  same low voice; he clenched his fist as a wave

  of

  irrational hatred swept over him. The

  Romulan

  seemed to sense it and pulled back slightly from the

  force field. "Why don't you relax now? Our

  medical

  officer will be down later to talk to you and give you a

  little something to help relax you."

  "You Federation types are pathetic. What makes

  you think you have anything that could make a Romulan

  talk? We are impervious to your

  interrogation

  methods."

  Kirk smiled tightly. "You meant to say, the

  trained

  and disciplined members of the Romulan military

  are

  impervious . . . to almost anything. But you aren't

  Vulcans. We can get information out of you."

  "I have nothing to hide." The pirate turned his

  face

  away.

  "We'll see," said Kirk. He left while

  he could still

  control his impulse to put his hands around the

  Romulan's

  neck.

  Emma and McCoy were in the laboratory looking

  at

  another brain scan; Emma sat at the counter

  with the

  printout spread out in front of her while

  McCoy leaned

  over her shoulder--a little too closely, Kirk

  thought,

  even for colleagues. They were laughing when

  he

  came in, but when they saw his face, they stopped

  abruptly.

  "What's happened, Jim?" McCoy asked.

  The captain

  was no longer weighed down with fatigue and

  concern; his movements were electric, purposeful.

  "We got one, Bones," Kirk gloated.

  McCoy's face broke into a broad grin.

  "What did you catch?" Emma searched Kirk's

  face

  and then McCoy's until she understood. "A

  pirate?"

  Kirk nodded. "Romulan."

  "Is he really a pirate," asked McCoy,

  "or one of the

  Praetor's boys?"

  "That's what I want to find out. I'm going

  to need

  you later, Bones. We're bringing up the

  wreckage from

  one of the ships, and I want to examine it before we

  question him, but after that--"

  "You'd like me to concoct a little potion to loosen

  his tongue."

  "Exactly."

  Emma looked surprised. "Do you really have a

  truth serum effective against Romulans?"

  McCoy shrugged. "It sometimes is. A lot

  depends

  on the individual. With a little perseverance, we can

  usually find out what we need to know."

  "Would you like to come along with McCoy during

  the questioning?" Kirk asked. "Your knowledge of

  Vulcan psychology might be useful."

  She wheeled on him with such angry indignance that

  Kirk drew back, surprised. "Vulcans and

  Romulans

  are hardly similar when it comes to psychology,

  Captain,

  although I suppose most humans as
sume they are

  the same since they share a few minor racial

  characteristics.

  Their cultures and philosophies are

  completely

  different--"

  Kirk held up his hands. "Sorry, Doctor.

  I didn't

  mean to overgeneralize. It was stupid of me. Still,

  have more experience in psychology than either of

  MINDSHADOW

  "What time?" she said, suddenly cool.

  "Leonard

  and I were going to have dinner later."

  McCoy did not need to look in a mirror to know

  his

  cheeks were flaming; and he was even more embarrassed

  that such a perfectly normal statement would

  embarrass him. Everyone else had a love

  life; it was

  perfectly normal. What did he have to blush

  about? He

  waited for the captain to make some taunting remark,

  to say, "Excuse me, Leonard, I didn't

  know"'' but

  he did not.

  "I don't wish to interfere in Dr. McCoy's

  social

  life," Kirk said in clipped tones, "but I

  am unable to

  predict when we'll be finished searching the ship.

  I'll

  call the minute I know something. But first, Dr.

  Saenz,

  I'd like to talk to you about those test results on

  Spock."

  The door to Engineering opened to reveal total

  chaos. Pieces of metal had been strewn all

  over the

  deck; Kirk could recognize pieces of the

  debris as

  parts from a surface fighter. One of the pieces was

  a

  small, streamlined cloaking device, and he

  picked it

  up, marveling at its size--the one he had stolen

  from

  the Romulans scarcely three years ago had

  been

  twenty times the size.

  Scott wriggled out from under a large piece of

  bulkhead on the floor; nearby, a small

  engine had been

  completely dismantled. Kirk smiled to himself; at

  least

  part of Scott's thoroughness was not motivated

  by his

  desire to find the shield neutralizer as much as

  by the

  chance to tinker with someone else's engines. Scott

  brushed dust and ash from his rumpled tunic and

  walked over to Kirk, who knew the moment he

  saw

  the engineer's expression that they had not found

  anything yet.

  "I dinna understand, Captain." Scott shook his

  head. "Ye kin see the little cloakin' device

  there, but

  that thing's designed to consume a goodly amount of

  fuel. They couldna stayed cloaked more than seven

  hours with it. They weren't under the shields to begin

  with."

  "So Spock was right." Kirk turned the device

  over

  in his hands. "Scotty, there's got to be something

  else

  here to explain it."

  "But sir, we've just about finished checkin'

  everything,

  and there's not one piece of equipment here to

  explain either how they got past the shield or how

  they

  stayed cloaked more than seven hours."

  "Just about finished." Kirk looked up at

  Scott.

  "That isn't the same as completely finished, is

  it,

  Engineer?

  "Well, no, sir, I suppose not, but the

  only thing that

  remains is to tear apart every bulkhead and see if

  the

  device is concealed somewhere--but I can't believe

  it

  could be small enough for that and still work."

  "Keep looking, Scotty. I've got to know

  something

  before I go in to question the prisoner."

  Scott's expression was dangerous. "I wish

  I could

  go with ye, Captain. I have a few things I'd like

  to

  clear up with that murderous divvil--"

  "I know," Kirk said softly. "But I need you

  here.

  Keep up the good work, Mr. Scott. Give

  me a call

  when you've found something."

  "We will, sir."

  The instant the door to Engineering closed behind

  the captain, Scott muttered, "But I

  guarantee ye we

  won't find a bloody thing." He eyed the

  wreckage on

  the floor and suddenly gave a piece of it a

  disgusted

  kick.

  Emma was waiting for McCoy in front of his

  quarters;

  he'd stayed on duty a half-hour longer

  to make up

  MINDSHADOW

  for being late that morning. "Hi," he smiled.

  "Hello yourself." She leaned against the wall and

  smiled up at him with an expression that could

  hardly

  be called professional.

  "Look, I'm going to be a little late for dinner

  tonight.

  Why don't you go ahead and we'll take a

  raincheck."

  "No thanks, I thought I might go

  along when the

  Romulan is questioned. It sounds fascinating."

  McCoy winced. "Did I ever mention that you

  remind

  me of someone sometimes--no, never mind. I

  haven't heard from the captain yet today. It

  seems he

  has Scotty and half of Engineering going over that

  pirate ship with a fine-toothed comb, and he wants

  to

  wait until they're finished before we question the

  prisoner."

  "Have they found anything?" Her eyes glistened

  with interest.

  "Oh, just the usual Romulan pirate

  paraphernalia--cloaking

  devices and whatnot. I take it dinher's after

  the interrogation, then? Let me give Jim a

  call and see

  how it's going."

  McCoy knew that something was urgently wrong

  the instant he heard Kirk's voice on the

  intercom.

  "What is it, Jim?"

  "I just got a call from Security,

  Bones. It looks like I

  won't be needing your help with that prisoner after

  all.

  He's dead."

  Chapter Four

  WHEN McCoy aND Emma arrived at the

  brig, the

  force field which had contained the prisoner was dark;

  inside, security personnel were searching for

  evidence.

  Kirk stood where he had once faced the

  Romulan,

  but this time he confronted Security Chief

  Tomson.

  Lieutenant Ingrit Tomson was a colorless,

  lanky

  woman who stood a good half a head taller

  than Kirk

  in spite of her tendency to slump. She came from

  an

  icy colony planet that rarely saw the sun, and

  her skin

  and hair were so pale that she seemed lashless and

  browless; when she blushed, the capillaries were

  clearly outlined in red on her white

  cheeks. Normally

  serene of manner and countenance almost to the point

  of apathy, she spoke to Kirk now with what was for

  her an alarming degree of agitation. Her

  se
curity team

  had just made one of the most serious mistakes a

  security team can make: they had lost a

  prisoner.

  Tomson had not been on the Enterprise long, and

  she was keenly aware that her promotion to security

  MINDSHADOW

  chief was recent enough for any miscalculation on her

  part to be interpreted as greenhorn incompetence

  rather than simple bad luck. She spoke

  slowly, choosing

  her words with care so that the captain would

  understand that the situation had been handled with

  complete professionalism. The fact that the

  captain

  stood listening silently, jaw clenched, with a look

  of

  barely controlled fury on his face, did not

  bolster

  Tomson's confidence any.

  "The facts are, sir, that Ensign

  a!-Baslama was

  guarding the entrance to the brig when he was stunned

  by a phaser blast coming from someplace outside the

  brig. When he came to, he discovered that the

  force

  field was down and the prisoner and his own phaser

  were missing. At first he assumed that the prisoner

  had

  escaped, and he contacted me. We did an

  internal scan

  of the ship, but we couldn't locate a Vulcanoid

  on

  board, other than Mr. Spock in sick bay."

  "Any idea how long all-Baslama was

  unconscious?"

  "By his condition, I would say the phaser was fired

  on light stun. He was probably out three or

  four

  minutes at most. Then we found his phaser on the

  deck

  of the brig." Tomson handed it to Kirk for

  inspection.

  "It has the Romulan's fingerprints on it,

  sir. I'm taking

  it to forensics to see if it was fired.

  "After all-Baslama notified me, I immediately

  checked with the transporter room and the shuttle

  deck. No one has left this ship, Captain.

  So right now

  we're checking the air in the room to see if we

  can pick

  up any random molecules."

  Kirk's scowl deepened. "Of what?"

  "Of someone who was recently vaporized."

  "The pirate," Kirk said, understanding.

  "Yes, sir."

  "But how did the prisoner get the phaser in the

  first

  place?"

  "I had trouble figuring that one out myself, sir.

  My

  best guess is that someone brought it to him."

  "Someone on my ship brought it to him," Kirk's

  irritability was increasing, "so that he could kill

  himself?.

  It doesn't make any sense. If someone was in

  collusion with him, why wouldn't they help him

  escape?"

  "I don't know, sir. But there was no

  way he could

  have gotten past the force field to take it from

  Ensign