Star Trek-TOS-027-Mindshadow

by Kevin Underwood

  "Thanks. Maybe later, Scotty."

  But Kirk had no intention of going to the doctor's

  quarters. He seriously doubted he would be

  welcome

  there for quite some time.

  MINDSHADOW

  It was not the most comfortable situation James

  Kirk had ever been in, but then it was not the most

  uncomfortable either. The reception for the delegates

  was in full swing in the rec lounge, and from the

  looks

  of things, at least half the crew was

  present. Kirk

  headed toward his first officer, who was having an

  earnest discussion with the Radun ambassador;

  Varth

  had been seriously embarrassed to learn that the

  Radun

  delegation opposed protection for Aritani. It

  looked as if Varth was engaging in a little

  diplomacy

  himself.

  On the other side of the room the Saurian

  ambassador

  was calling and waving to Kirk so loudly that Kirk

  could no longer pretend he did not notice.

  Reluctantly,

  Kirk went to join his group.

  Next to the Saurian stood Emma Saenz and

  Leonard McCoy, both wearing identical

  medical dress

  uniforms of pale blue, although Kirk could not

  help

  thinking that Emma did hers infinitely more

  justice.

  The Saurian and Emma were grinning broadly,

  oblivious

  to anyone's discomfort; Kirk and McCoy nodded,

  unsmiling, at each other.

  Kirk addressed himself to the Saurian; he had

  to

  raise his voice to be heard above the rumble of the

  crowd. "By the sound of things, Ambassador

  Taureng,

  everyone here has already enjoyed a substantial

  amount of your contribution to our reception."

  "Glad to be of service, Captain," Taureng

  boomed

  gleefully, obviously having also indulged in a

  fair

  portion of his planet's most lucrative

  export. He was

  nearly seven feet tall, black-skinned, and

  exuding

  charm, a welcome contrast to the pygmyish

  Tellarite

  who stood nearby, arguing quite obnoxiously with the

  ambassador from Cygnus V. "Permit me

  to get you a

  glass."

  Kirk started to protest about the impropriety of

  ambassadors waiting on the hired

  help, but Taureng

  did not seem to hear; after all, his own glass was

  again

  empty and needed filling.

  Jim turned back awkwardly to face Emma and

  McCoy;

  the doctor was studying his Saurian brandy with

  furious intensity, apparently in an attempt

  to appreciate

  the visual and olfactory attributes of the

  fiery

  amber liquid. Emma leaned forward. She

  seemed to be

  the only sober person in the room.

  "How divided are these delegates on the

  Aritanian

  question, Captain?" she asked, nodding at the group

  next to them, which consisted of Ambassador Zev,

  the

  Cygnusian with whom he was arguing, and an

  Andorian

  who was quietly watching the exchange.

  "As far as I can tell," Kirk said, loud enough for

  Emma and McCoy to hear, but not so loud that he

  could be heard over the growl of the

  Tellarite or the

  silken response of the Cygnusian, "about half

  the

  diplomats favor protection. The

  Tellarites and the

  Raduns are against it. The Andorians haven't

  committed

  themselves, and the Cygnusians are one of the

  strongest supporters. that's why the Tellarite's

  arguing

  with her."

  The native of Cygnus V sat on a large

  sofa next to

  the Andorian ambassador. Indeed, she found it

  quite

  taxing to stand for long periods of time, since

  Cygnus

  V's gravity was some ten percent less than

  Terran

  standard, but there had been no time to arrange more

  comfortable travel accommodations and still arrive on

  Vulcan in time for the vote. McCoy was giving

  her

  injections to ease the strain, but even the slightest

  movement was tiring. Next to the

  Andorian, she

  looked like a graceful giantess; she was taller

  than a

  Saurian, and even seated, was taller than the

  Tellarite

  who stood before her. Her skin was translucent

  white,

  and her frail bones were so thin and elongated that a

  MINDSHADOW

  human child could snap them easily. In fact, she

  avoided any quick movements and often went to the

  antigrav compartment in the gym, so that she could

  move about and exercise without fear of breaking a

  fragile limb. She responded to the shouted

  accusations

  of the Tellarite with a voice that was breathless and

  feathery.

  "Don't you realize," Zev yelled, "that you

  ,are

  violating one of the Federation's most revered

  precepts?

  We have no right to interfere when they've

  made it clear they want no help. I can't

  believe the

  Federation is even calling this conference!"

  The Cygnusian craned her long neck forward and

  directed a sharply angled chin at the

  Tellarite. "That is

  a common misconception among those who do not

  truly understand Federation Code."

  Zev sputtered. "What kind of insult--"

  "The noninterference directive states that no

  representative

  of the Federation may interfere with the

  sociological or technological development

  of a culture,

  either by hindering or helping it. By giving Aritani a

  second chance to accept our help, we are in no

  way

  interfering with their cultural development. Quite the

  opposite--we are protecting them from interference,

  from those who would hinder their development. We

  are upholding the noninterference directive, not

  violating

  it."

  "But we are defying their own government's

  decision,"

  Zev roared.

  "We do not defy it." The Cygnusian

  shook her

  elongated head slowly, carefully. "We are

  giving them

  the opportunity to reconsider their position. They

  would have no such chance if we permitted the pirates

  to destroy them."

  "They have the right to choose genocide, if they

  want to. The whole point of this so-called

  second

  chance is that the Federation can't bear to see all those

  fuel sources go to the Romulans."

  "Romulans?" Emma whispered in Kirk's

  ear.

  "The latest rumor."

  "If the Romulans take the planet, then the

  Aritanians

  have certainly chosen genocide," said the

  Cygnusian, "fo
r the Romulans would destroy the

  inhabitants

  and strip what they wanted from the planet

  without concern for its ecosystem. They would

  effectively

  destroy it. That is their way."

  "I still say that's the Aritanians' decision

  to make,"

  Zev persisted.

  She frowned. "Perhaps, Zev, you don't realize

  that

  when the Aritanians told us to leave, they felt

  we

  couldn't help them. If we could show them that we can

  stop the attacks, they might change their minds."

  "And how, pray tell, will we do that now?"

  "I'll leave that up to Federation Intelligence."

  She

  sipped her brandy delicately.

  "There's no way we can protect them against a

  shield neutralizer!"

  The Cygnusian dismissed his remark with a tinkling

  laugh; frustrated, Zev turned his attention to the

  An-dorian.

  "I still say we mustn't interfere! What do you

  say, Thelev?"

  The Andorian was as delicate and wrinkled as an

  old

  woman; he pursed his lips at the Tellarite.

  "I can say

  nothing at this point, Zev. Surely even you can

  respect

  the fact that my government has ordered

  me to hold

  my tongue until I cast the vote at the

  conference on

  Vulcan."

  "I can respect the fact that your government is just

  too namby-pamby to make up its mind until

  it hears

  what the other delegates think!"

  "Tellarites are most unpleasant when they are

  MINDSHADOW

  drunk," the gentle Thelev lisped to the

  Cygnusian,

  completely ignoring Zev's sputters.

  "I agree, although I must add that they are almost as

  unpleasant when sober," she replied sweetly,

  angling

  her head from side to side. "This one, though,

  makes

  me a little homesick."

  "How so?"

  "He reminds me of a Cygnusian drelu."

  Zev bellowed loudly and jumped toward the

  Cygnusian's

  tender neck with both arms outstretched.

  Emma

  was closest and got there first, pinning the

  Tellarite's

  pudgy arms with ease. Zev struggled and roared with

  anger.

  "How dare you let this woman touch me,

  Captain!

  If

  I am injured, my government will exact

  revenge"

  Taureng reappeared in the midst of the commotion

  with two glasses and a decanter. "What in the

  names

  of the gods--"

  Kirk glared angrily at Zev, who was

  struggling pathetically

  to break free from Emma's grasp.

  "Ambassador

  Zev, you will have to leave this reception

  if you can't keep from fighting with the other

  delegates."

  "First get this she-devil off me to was

  Varth appeared at Kirk's side. "I think

  I can help,

  Captain."

  Kirk was grateful for once to see his first

  officer. He motioned graciously toward the

  Tellarite. "Be my

  guest, Mister Varth."

  Emma released her grip, and Zev padded out of the

  room with Varth on his heels, berating him.

  Zev stopped in the entrance way and called to the

  Cygnusian. "You haven't heard the last of this!

  I will

  have my revenge!"

  The Cygnusian laughed sweetly and waved.

  "I don't understand," Emma said. "What's a

  drelu ?"

  The Cygnusian giggled. "A drelu is a

  scavenger

  animal. It subsists on the excrement of other

  animals."

  Kirk addressed himself with relief to the glass of

  brandy the Saurian proffered him. "I brought a

  bottle

  of my own private stock," said Taureng.

  "One hundred

  twenty Saurian years in the cask. You won't

  believe the difference between this and what the others

  are drinking."

  "Drelu, huh?" McCoy murmured

  thoughtfully. "I'll

  have to remember that one."

  "Thank God Varth was here to take Zev off our

  hands," Emma sighed. "Is it always this

  difficult,

  dealing with diplomats?"

  The question was addressed to Kirk, but Taureng

  answered first. "Only when the diplomats

  involved are

  Tellarites."

  Kirk nursed his brandy for a good while before he

  spoke.

  "Let's hope," he said, "that this is as

  difficult as it

  gets."

  It wasn't. Kirk was awakened in the middle of the

  night by a call from Tomson. They had found the

  Cygnusian ambassador stuffed into a

  stairwell, the

  bones in her delicate body snapped like

  matchsticks.

  Chapter Nine

  T'PALA SAT UNDER the arbor in the darkness

  of the

  garden. She did not speak or stir as Spock

  approached.

  He was glad that his mental shields now afforded

  him some protection against the anguish that she could

  not hide, even in the moonless night.

  "My parents are concerned," Spock said, drawing

  his cloak closer against the chill of the night air.

  "You

  absented the evening meal and have spoken to no one

  all day. We did not know if you had returned from

  ShanaiKahr. Are you unwell?"

  She turned her face away. "You know what I

  went

  to the capital to find out today. Are you incapable of

  making deductions?"

  "You were not accepted into the diplomatic

  program."

  T'Pala faced him in the blackness, eyes

  glittering.

  For a moment Spock feared she had been crying, but

  her cheeks were dry. "I was not."

  Spock thought for a moment before he spoke. "You

  are very young, T'Pala. It might be that after

  another

  year of study, the regents would find you mature

  enough to enter the program."

  She shook her head bitterly. "Maturity has

  nothing

  to do with the reason I was not accepted. It has to do

  with something you can't possibly understand."

  "I can't if you don't tell me the reason,"

  Spock

  countered gently.

  She struggled to say it. "My background--"

  "T'Pala," he said, "I believe I understand

  perfectly."

  "Then surely you know the prejudice I face

  here,"

  she said, unable to completely master her anger.

  "Even if they had accepted me, I'm not sure

  that I

  would be happy here. I don't belong. You were

  wise to

  leave."

  Spock tried to say something, but she stopped him.

  "But youmyou were raised on Vulcan. I was not.

  I did

  not acquire all the disciplines as a child. I even

  speak

  Vulcan like a Terran."

  "T'Pala, I cannot accept that those w
ere the things

  that prevented your admittance."

  "I know. I know that you were accepted and turned it

  down--"

  Spock looked at her sharply.

  "--s I know that being half-human, although it did

  present some difficulty, did not keep me out.

  It was

  more than that." She looked down at her hands,

  folded

  together in her lap, and sighed. "I wish Sarek were

  my

  father."

  Spock stiffened. "The reason for my acceptance

  was not the fact that Sarek was my father. And he did

  endorse you to the committee."

  She looked up at him, quick to explain. "I

  didn't

  MINDSHADOW

  mean that it was. I meant that I did not wish

  to be the

  daughter of Gerald Carstairs. Even Sarek's

  endorsement

  of me could not change that fact."

  Spock lifted an eyebrow questioningly.

  "No one told you?"

  "I have heard the name. Is the fact somehow

  significant?"

  "Significant enough to require our family

  to leave

  Terra, to make no Vulcan male want

  to bond with

  "I can think of nothing that would cause you to be

  an unsuitable mate."

  She looked at him gratefully and closed her

  eyes.

  "My father had access to certain classified

  research

  information because of the nature of his work. The Vulcans

  accused him of selling that information to the

  Romulans."

  "Did he?"

  "The Vulcans never pressed charges, but they

  made

  him leave. Of course, that was the end of his

  diplomatic

  career. When he died last year, I returned

  to

  Vulcan. I feared that I would not be accepted because

  of what my father did. Now my fear has been

  realized."

  Spock sat next to her on the stone bench

  to emphasize

  the sincerity of what he said. "T'Pala, I still

  maintain that although Vulcans, like all sentient

  beings,

  are not totally immune to prejudice, the

  committee would not reject you on the basis that

  Gerald

  Carstairs was your father."

  She pulled away from him, back into the shadows.

  "Think what you like, it makes no difference. I will

  not

  shame myself by offering my loyalty to those who

  reject it. I shall be leaving soon."

  "Do not leave," Spock said. "Go to the

  admissions

  committee, and ask them why you were not accepted.

  They will tell you. Perhaps it is a flaw that can be

  improved."

  But she left him in the garden and would not listen.

  It was not a good night. Kirk spent the first half

  of it

  questioning the Tellarite delegation and The Icy, the