the effects of an overdose, had dictated that the
intentional
ending of his life could not be the result of an
emotional decision. He had thrown them with disgust
into the garbage slot on the kitchen wall, knowing that
they would immediately be incinerated.
The hanging vines shielded Spock's eyes from the
intense light of the midday sun; the gray misting
rain of
the day before had at last been burned away.
Spock
had been sitting in the garden for a full day. He
rose
and stretched stiffly, his tunic still damp from the rain
and smelling slightly mildewed, and went to his
room.
The flame in the belly of the statue was still burning,
as he and Stalik had left it the day before. As he
stood
with his eyes fixed on the pulsating red light,
Stalik's
instructions came to his mind with sudden
clarity.
MINDSHADOW
Spock sat in the cross-legged position before it,
his
muscles complaining with their need to be stretched,
but he ignored the discomfort and kept his eyes on
the
flame.
Logic. One must formulate the question first, before
one can arrive at the answer. And Spock had
questions;
he would begin to sift them now, one by one.
Today he would answer at least one of them.
Stalik had said that there were always answers.
It was late afternoon when Spock emerged from his
room into the hallway.
The Andorian child had just completed his lesson; it
must have been his last, for Amanda was presenting
him with a gift: one of the rare paper books, this one
bound in red cloth. It was typical of her,
loaning--sometimes
giving--the priceless volumes to those she
felt would profit from them most. Spock squinted,
but
he could not make out the title.
The Andorian, child though he was, seemed to
appreciate the worth of the gift and the intent of the
giver, for he reverently set the book aside and with
youthful impulse hugged his teacher.
Spock knew he should allow them some privacy,
but
the enormity of his curiosity compelled him to stay.
He wanted to know how his mother would respond.
Amanda was almost knocked off balance by the
child's momentum, but her expression quickly became
one of. pleasure; her arms enfolded the child and
drew
him to her with honest affection.
Spock drew back so that they would not see him as
they walked to the door. When the Andorian had
departed, Spock walked up silently behind
Amanda.
She almost ran into him when she turned around and
drew back, startled. "Spock, you look
terrible. were
you out in the garden all night? In the rain?"
She did not mention the hurt he had caused her the
day before; there was no recrimination in her face,
only concern. Spock permitted himself a
moment's
envy for the Andorian boy.
"Mother, I wish to apologize for the unkind and
untrue remark I made yesterday--"
"Don't." She dismissed his offense with a wave of
her hand. Both she and Spock knew that
Vulcans did
not apologize.
"Let me continue. For whatever reason, I was not
in control of my temper earlier, and my behavior
toward you and toward Tela'at Stalik was
inexcusable.
I regret it deeply. If I could reclaim
the remark--"
"You weren't yourself. I can't hold anything you
might have said against you."
"My thought patterns were most confused and
illogical.
However, I seem to have regained control of
them. I shall go to Stalik's house to apologize and
ask
him to return, although I doubt he will do so."
Amanda's face was hopeful. "Then you think it is
useful to continue the lessons. And you'll stay with
US."
"For the moment, yes."
She studied his face. "You are yourself again, aren't
you? I'm glad. We've been so worried. But
I must ask
you--your medication isn't where I left it. Did
you
take it?"
Spock nodded.
"Good," she said, relieved. "I trust you
to take it,
then. I'm just very grateful for the sudden
improvement...
perhaps the effects are cumulative.
Spock's expression was bland, even agreeable;
there was no reason to alarm her by revealing the fate
of the neodopazine. If his condition worsened, he
would contact McCoy himself.
But his mother's statement about the effects of the
MINDSHADOW
drug aroused a strange emotion in him, one that for
some odd reason was connected in his subconscious
with his accident .... He tried to identify it before
it
passed as quickly as it had descended.
Fear... a feeling of imminent danger.
That night it visited him again as he dreamed of
purple . . . not the porcelain capsules this
time, but
steep purple mountains.
Kirk sat miserably in his command chair, fingering
the stiff collar of the dress uniform. It was no
secret to
the crew that their captain had been in a less than
perfect mood for the last few weeks. Maybe his
dress
uniform was getting too tight and making him
cranky,
Sulu suggested in a low voice to Chekhov. The
helmsman's
eyes darted sideways at the captain, who was
distracted by a yeoman's report requiring his
signature.
The low rumble of laughter quickly faded to
silence as Kirk glared up from the yeoman's
clipboard,
sensing that he was somehow responsible for the
merriment.
"Coming into orbit around Tellar, Captain,"
Sulu
said glibly.
"Visual of the Tellarite delegation," Kirk
said without
enthusiasm.
Uhura's fingers were poised over her console;
she'd
been waiting for the command. "On visual,
Captain."
Stocky, bristle-haired, heavy-browed, the
Tellarite
ambassador was impossible to describe in
Terran
terms as anything other than porcine; certainly,
his
manners served little to disabuse anyone of the
comparison.
He glared at Kirk with small, bilious eyes
set
over a nasal appendage best described as a
snout.
Kirk affected a weak smile of dubious
sincerity.
"This is Captain James T. Kirk of the
starship Enterprise. Is your party ready to beam
aboard?"
"Ambassador Zev. It's about time," the
Tellarit
e
boomed in a low, hoarse voice, quite unlike the
squeal
one expected from looking at him. "We've been
waiting
almost an hour!"
Kirk's lips tightened. It was a lie, and
Ambassador
Zev knew it. The Enterprise had arrived at
the promised
moment. But a Tellarite never passed up the
opportunity for an argument--tell one that the
Terran
sky was blue, and they would insist it was as orange
as
Vulcan's, and then throw in a few insults at
your
mother for good measure. It was a characteristic of
Tellarite culture for which Kirk was in no
mood.
"Please stand by to beam up." Kirk cut off the
communication abruptly and wondered whose bright
idea it was to let Tellar into the Federation.
Zev's
piggish snout was the last object to fade from the
viewscreen. "Mr. Varth."
The first officer, his expression gracious and
alert,
turned from Spock's console to face the captain.
Like
Kirk, he wore his full-dress uniform, but his
was
science officer's blue, a color that complemented
his
copper hair. "Sir," he replied in his soft
tenor voice.
"Accompany me to the transporter room."
"Yes, sir."
Kirk left, taking his foul mood with him, while
Varth
followed at a polite distance.
Sulu took the con and when the doors to the lift
had
closed, sighed.
"What's been eating him?" Uhura asked in a
low
voice.
Sulu just shook his head.
Kirk maintained a sullen silence
until the lift deposited
them on the level of the transporter room. "Ever
dealt with Tellarites before, Mr. Varth?" he
asked with
the supremely confident voice of experience.
MINDSHADOW
"Yes, sir," Varth replied eagerly. "I
roomed with
one at the Academy."
Kirk looked at him sharply, wanting to ask
what the
hell one had been doing at the Academy, but he
bit his
tongue and held the lecture on how not to lose
one's
temper with Tellarites.
Scott and McCoy were already waiting in the
transporter
room, both in their dress uniforms; they had
been talking but when the captain entered, an
awkward
silence descended. Kirk was certain Scott still
thought he had mentioned Ensign Lanz to Tomson,
thus precipitating Scott's arrest;
he had no idea if
McCoy still blamed him for the incident with Emma.
McCoy cleared his throat and tugged at the
collar of
his uniform. "How many more of these delegations do
we have to pick up? This thing is killing me. They
can
transport a man's atoms through space and
back, but
they can't dress him up and let him be comfortable at
the same time."
"This is the last delegation," Kirk said.
"Thank God," Scott sighed. i'll be glad
when
we're finished with all this pomp and circumstance."
He turned to the young Radun andwitha paternal
air,
said, "Now tell me, Mr. Varth, have ye ever
had the
misfortune to have dealings with Tellarites before?"
"Yes," Kirk said shortly, before Varth could
open
his mouth. "He has."
Varth nodded politely in Kirk's direction and
waited
to be sure the captain was finished speaking. "I was
friends with a Tellarite back at the Academy."
"Friends? With a Tellarite?" Scott's eyes
widened
with horror at the thought. "I dinna think that's
possible.
Ye must have some special diplomatic gift
to make
friends with those piggish little---"
"Mr. Scott," Kirk warned.
"robcastles," Scott finished. "Are ye
sure your
people are related to the Klingons? I can't think of a
more unlikely combination, a Klingon and a
Tellarite."
Varth smiled. "Raduns have a special knack
for
getting along with almost anyone. I've never met
someone I couldn't be friends with." He looked
hesitantly at the captain.
Kirk scowled. "I suppose we have no choice
but to
beam them aboard, Mr. Scott."
"Aye," Scott sighed, "I suppose not."
He went behind the transporter control
console.
Three squat forms shimmered and materialized
into
reality on the transporter pads. The tallest
one spoke.
"I am Ambassador Zev." It sounded more like
a hysterical accusation than an introduction.
"And I am, of course, Captain Kirk. This
is my first
officer, Mr. Varth, Chief Engineer Scott,
and Chief
Medical Officer McCoy."
Zev flared his already wide nostrils. "Is this
why
you made us wait so long before you beamed us up? So
that you could assemble half your crew in this useless
display of pomp?"
Kirk smiled at the thought of the immense pleasure
involved in poking Zev in his oversized snout.
"This is hardly half the crew, Ambassador.
There are over four hundred personnel aboard this
ship. It is our custom to
honor important diplomats such as yourself
by having
our senior officers greet you--"
"A ridiculous waste of time!" Zev waved a
stubby
arm imperiously. "Take us to our quarters now."
"Sir," Varth said in a low voice to Kirk,
"if I
may--"
"He's all yours," Kirk said, his smile
faded.
"What do you mean, we made you wait so long?"
Varth shouted so loud that McCoy jumped. "That's
an
outright lie! You know we were right on time. And
MINDSHADOW
speaking of useless displays of pomp, I notice
you came with an entourage yourself. They're here just for
show, as we are."
Kirk, Scott and McCoy stared at the first
officer as if
he had gone mad, but Varth ignored them, glaring
defiantly at the Tellarites.
Zev made a rasping sound that Kirk was finally
to identify as laughter. "I don't need
to explain my
attaches to you, son of a Klingon."
"And we don't have to explain ourselves to you."
"Maybe not," Zev said with gusto. "But quit
wasting
my time with all this talk. Take us to our
quarters.
And I hope that they're suitable. You humans
always
put us in rooms which suit your ridiculously
oversized
bodies--"
"It's not our fault you're so short," Varth
sneered.
"Mr. Varth--" Kirk broke in, "I'm
sorry to interrupt
the mutual admiration society, but if you would
take them to their quarters..."
"Certainly, sir," the Radun replied
politely. He
gestured to the Tellarites to follow.
Zev chuckled as he and his diminutive entourage
waddled past Kirk. "Captain, I was with former
Ambassador
Gav's delegation when he was on your ship
several years before, and I must say that I
find your
new first officer a vast improvement over the old
one.
This one, at least, has a little personality."
Kirk did not smile at the remark.
The Tellarites fell in behind Varth like baby
ducks
behind their mother; as the door slid closed behind
them, they could hear Varth in the corridor: "I
always
thought that the terms Tellarite and diplomat were
mutually exclusive."
"Did you ever see anything like that before?" McCoy
said with awe.
"I'd "a thought he'd hit Mr Varth for saying
things
were' 69
like that, but it didn't seem to make him any
madder. I
think he liked it," Scott puzzled.
McCoy nodded. "That Varth really knows what
he's
doing."
"Maybe," Kirk said without conviction.
McCoy turned on him. "Give the
man a little credit,
for God's sake, Captain. It's not his fault
he's not
Spock." He brushed past Kirk. "Come
on,. Scotty.
This is the last of the diplomats, and I've got
some
white lightning in my quarters."
"Could I talk to you for a moment first, Mr.
Scott?"
Scott stopped. "I'll be there in a minute,"
he told
McCoy.
Kirk waited for McCoy to leave before he began
to
speak.
Scott stopped him. "Captain, I think I
know what
you want to talk about... and it's all right. You were
just tryin" to do your duty."
"Scotty... I want you to know that I didn't
tell
anyone about Ensign Lanz. I never for a moment
thought you could have done it. Tomson wanted to put
a bulletin out on you immediately, but I
wouldn't, not
until you were late. I'm sorry, Scotty."
Scott lowered his eyes. "I appreciate what
ye tried
to do for me, sir. And I'm sorry for what I
said. No
hard feelings?"
"No hard feelings."
He smiled and straightened his shoulders. "Then,
sir, why don't ye join me and the doctor for a
little
tipple? Ye look like you could use some cheerin'
Star Trek-TOS-027-Mindshadow Page 19
