the communication. "Mr. Varth," he said, "you are
in
command."
MINDSHADOW
Sulu waited until the Vulcan left the
bridge and
Varth had settled down in the captain's chair.
He turned halfway toward Varth. "All right.
What's
going on?"
Varth regarded him coldly. "Is there a
problem,
Lieutenant Sulu?"
"You know what I mean, sir." He hadn't
talked to
Varth since the Radun's brief but unexplained
stay in
the brig. "Something's up--between you and the captain
and Mr. Spock." He decided not to ask why
Varth
and the captain were suddenly buddy-buddy--not
here, on the bridge, since Varth was, after
all, a senior
officer; but Sulu was far too curious not to mention
the
recent events on the bridge. "It's very
unusual for Dr.
McCoy to call the captain and Mr. Spock
to sick bay
like that."
"Yes, it is," Varth agreed. "Anything
else, Mister?"
"No, sir." Sulu sighed and turned back
to his panel,
resigned. Varth was letting him know that he had
overstepped his bounds; maybe they would explain it
to him when it was all over.
He could not see Varth grinning behind him.
Spock hovered outside the door to sick bay.
"How
is he, Doctor?"
McCoy gestured him inside. "Why don't you
come
judge for yourself, Mr. Spock? Your opinion just
might
be useful for once."
Kirk sat on the bed, studying his reflection in
a hand
mirror. When Spock came in, he swung his
legs over
the side and attempted to stand up.
"Not so fast," said McCoy, pushing him back
into a
sitting position. "Give the anesthesia a few
more
seconds to wear off." He stepped back and
viewed his
handiwork with almost paternal pride. "Well,
Spock,
what do you think?"
Spock leaned closer to Kirk and, putting his hand
to
his chin, grunted and slowly circled the bed as he
studied the new alterations to his captain. He
stopped
and remained silent until McCoy could stand it
no
longer.
"Well?"
"Adequate," Spock replied.
"Adequate?" McCoy was highly insulted.
"That's
not adequate, that's a masterpiece."
Kirk smiled, then winced suddenly and gingerly
touched his fingers to the new tips on his ears.
"Hey,
Bones, they pull when I smile. Shouldn't you
fix
that?"
"Where you're going," McCoy said tartly, "you
won't need to smile."
Kirk looked up at Spock and almost smiled
again,
but caught himself in time. "Is that why you Vulcans
avoid smiling, Spock? Because it pulls your
ears?"
Spock was not the least bit intrigued by the thought.
"I really wouldn't know, Captain."
McCoy was still smarting from Spock's remark.
"Spock, how can you call this
adequate? Last time I
did this, it was good enough to fool the Romulans, and
I think I did an even better job this time."
"I did not say that your work would not fool the
Romulans, Doctor, I merely stated that it
was adequate
for its purpose. That is what you wanted to
know, isn't it?"
"Yes, but--"
"However, as far as aesthetics are concerned, I
must admit that there is something rather... that is to
say, the captain does not seem well
suited..."
"I make a lousy Vulcanoid." Kirk
pushed the fretting
McCoy aside and finally stood up. "Is that
what
you're saying, Spock?"
MINDSHADOW
"A colorful term, but rather accurate. Perhaps it's
your coloring..." Spock suggested.
McCoy sniffed. "That can be fixed with a little
makeup. But I think those ears are some of my
finest
work."
"I must agree," Spock said. "They are,
therefore, adequate . . ."
"Why, what's that supposed to mean--" McCoy
began hotly.
"It doesn't matter." Kirk waved his hand
to signal
an end to the discussion. "All that matters is, they
fooled the Romulans once, and they'll
certainly fool
them again."
Scott and McCoy were waiting when Kirk
arrived in
the transporter room, and neither one looked
particularly
pleased. McCoy stood scowling with his arms
folded resolutely; Kirk knew the lecture
would be
forthcoming shortly.
"Where's Spock?" he asked, hoping to forestall
McCoy.
"Probably trying to find a costume that
coordinates
with yours," the doctor replied. "I must say, you
look
rather dashing."
"What, this old thing?" Kirk spread his arms and
looked down at his costume; the computer had
designed
it along the same lines as the one the Romulan
prisoner had worn. "I thought the color of the
vest
was a little loud."
"It's perfect," McCoy answered. "Brings
out the
green in your complexion."
Kirk grimaced wryly and turned to Scott.
"Scotty,
Varth will be calling any minute with those
coordinates."
"Aye, sir," Scott sighed, shaking his head.
"All right, Scotty, out with it."
"Well... Captain, I wish I felt a little
better about
this. I can't help rememberin' what happened to that
last poor divvil we beamed up from his ship--"
"Amen," McCoy nodded. "I had to do the
autopsy,
Jim'."
Kirk assumed his best authoritarian
air. "Gentlemen,
there is nothing more to discuss. That pirate
moved his ship on purpose from its projected
course.
It won't happen this time."
"You mean, you hope it won't happen this time,"
McCoy muttered.
Scott did not seem at all reassured.
"It's a very
delicate operation, puttin' two men
into fast-moving surface vessels."
Kirk put a confident hand on the engineer's
shoulder.
"And I trust you to do it, Mr. Scott. You're
the
best. Subject closed."
The door opened and Spock entered, dressed in
pirate clothes.
"Spock, you certainly look convincing."
"Thank you, Doctor McCoy."
"But I don't understand why you wouldn't let me
pierce one ear. Then you'd really look
authentic."
Spock was not amused. "It is enough that the captain
<
br /> was forced to submit to your scalpel,
Doctor."
"Which reminds me, what did Sarek think about the
captain's new ears?"
"He said nothing to me about them."
"Nothing?" McCoy was obviously deflated.
Spock kept his expression bland. "My father is
a
diplomat, Doctor. He avoids comment if
he fears it
will offend others."
McCoy was about to respond acidly to Spock's
remark when a beep emanated from the transporter
console. "Ye'd best get on the pads,
gentlemen,"
MINDSHADOW
Scott said. "This is going' to take a fine bit
of timin'."
Kirk felt a sudden rush of exhilaration.
"Ready,
Spock?"
"Ready, Captain."
"For God's sake," McCoy said, "be
careful down
there."
The last thing Kirk saw as he was caught in the
transporter beam was the look of worry on
McCoy's
face.
The ship felt as light as a feather, with controls
as
sensitive as a high-strung thoroughbred. Varth
had
been right--these were not the antique jerry-rigged
fighters used by pirate bands, but the newest,
sleekest
surface fighters outfitted with every device
possible,
compliments no doubt of the Romulan Empire.
The
ship seated one, and it hugged Kirk's body so that
he
could move his arms freely, but not stretch his
legs. He studied the control panel and found the
radio next
to the control for firing the burning phaser.
"Remus, do you read?"
"Affirmative, Romulus. We are not far from
the
beamdown site. If you would follow me,
please."
They flew together in close formation, Spock's
vessel
leading. Kirk looked out and could see that the land
below was scarred and blackened where the pirates
had discharged their phasers, and that the dark brown
soil was turned up in the areas where mining had
begun on the surface. The sight was sickening,
even
more so because he could recognize the area from the
configuration of the plateau. it was the place where
Natahia's fields and hut had once stood,
but its beauty
had been completely stripped away.
Then he saw it.
A plateau edged by a jagged mountain, and the next
plateau down a clean four-hundred-foot
drop, softened
by tangling red and blue vines--the place where they
had found Spock.
Kirk looked gratefully at the reassuring
presence in
the other vessel.
Spock hovered near the edge of the plateau for an
instant, then smoothly set his vessel
down. Kirk
brought his alongside. He knew that Spock would
now
contact the pirates in flawless Romulan with the
beam-down
code supplied by Varth. Within seconds, the
interior of the fighter began to blink and glimmer
until
it disappeared, taking Kirk along with it.
Kirk opened his eyes to absolute darkness, and for
an instant felt panic--they had beamed down
into solid
rock; in less than a second their molecules
would be
crushed out of existence by the tons of sheer
pressure
exerted on their bodies ....
But death did not come. Kirk's lungs filled
easily
with recirculated air, thin but breathable, and his
eyes
adjusted slowly to the blackness. "Remus?"
"Here." Spock swung gracefully from the
belly of
the fighter as though he had been doing it
all his life.
When his feet touched the floor, the cavern filled
with
harsh Pinkish light. Kirk fumbled with the
tophatch
and crawled out stiffly.
The hangar had been carved from rock, and held at
least another hundred of the gleaming silver
fighters.
Kirk and Spock walked past them, their steps
echoing
against the cold stone floor.
A small exit in the far corner of the hangar led
them
to an equally small passageway. Had Kirk
ever entertained
doubts that the Praetor was involved, they were
now completely erased, for the guard who sat staring
at a monitor wore the uniform of a Romulan
centurion.
He looked up just long enough to frown at Kirk and
Spock before turning back to the screen.
MINDSHADOW
They continued down the narrow stone
corridor.
"That was too easy." Kirk's hand
unconsciously
groped for the communicator hidden under his long
tunic.
"Easier than anticipated," Spock agreed.
"Perhaps
the beamdown code is the only security measure
required
to achieve this level of access. Or perhaps the
Federation has friends here."
dis"...Or maybe someone ought to put that centurion on
report."
"Spoken like a true disciplinarian, sir."
Kirk glanced at Spock sharply, but there was no
time to answer. They had come to the end of the
passage; in front of them, a massive stone
wall shuddered
and rose.
The surfaces of the vast interior were not stone, but
slick white metal, and the wide corridors
broken by
hundreds of entranceways seemed to stretch
into infinity.
Dozens of Romulans--some in
military uniforms,
others dressed as pirates--comstrode through the
corridors,
far too involved in the performance of their
duties to be concerned about the two pirates who
hung
back by the entrance, watching.
"Remind you of someplace you've been before?"
Kirk whispered with awe.
"Indeed... the interior of a Romulan
battleship. If
Varth is correct, those should be the officers'
quarters.
I believe we should proceed in . . . that
direction."
Spock inclined his head.
"Lead the way, Remus. You're the one who
memorized
the map."
Kirk was becoming more exhilarated by the success
of their masquerade as each moment that they remained
unnoticed passed. They had taken the
turbolift
down two levels and were proceeding along the
corridor
that Spock assured him would take them to the
cloaking device--and Kirk was just beginning to feel
secure--when Spock suddenly stopped.
The corridor in front of them forked in two
directions.
"What is it, Spock?"
"Sir, the plan of the base that I studied did not
include that." Spock pointed to
the corridor that
branched off to the left. It was blocked by a rather
large centurion and a force field. "The plan
showed
only one path to the cloaking device, the
hallway
which is now unguarded."
"Which way do you think we should go."
Spock looked at him directly. "Which one would
you put a cloaking device behind, sir?"
Kirk sighed. "I was afraid you'd say that."
They directed their steps toward the force field.
"As
we approach the centurion, Captain,"
Spock said in a
low voice, "I would appreciate it if you would
--"
"--shut up?"
Spock nodded.
"No lo contendere, Remus. My Romulan
is a little
rusty."
Square of jaw and build, the centurion
regarded
them with small, untrusting eyes. Clearly, this
one
would not be as careless as his comrade. Spock gave
the Romulan salute as he approached, bringing
one fist
to his chest, and then extending the arm.
He spoke rapidly to the centurion in what
Kirk
perceived to be an extremely convincing imitation of
Romulan military style. "Centurion, let
us pass."
The Romulan shook his head and produced a
hand-held
scanner. "You know the rules. Scan first."
"Of course," Spock agreed, and stood still as the
centurion scanned him. The device beeped.
"How stupid of me," Spock said. "My
communica-
232
MINDSHADOW
tions device, of course." He handed it to the
Romulan,
who did a double take.
"Where'd you get this?"
"One of the corpses on the planet surface.
A souvenir.
Here, let me show you." He bent over to assist
the
centurion, who was trying unsuccessfully to open
a
hailing frequency. "The frequency band is
here."
Spock reached over the Romulan's shoulder
to point.
He finished by easing the Romulan to the floor with
a strategically placed hand on his trapezius.
"That was great, Spock," Kirk said
approvingly.
"But how did you explain the communicator?"
"It's hardly important, Captain..."
"Well, whatever you told him, he bought it. I
never
knew you were such a skillful liar, Mr.
Spock. Good
work."
Spock dragged the centurion to one side and
propped him gently against the bulkhead while
Kirk
found the control to deactivate the force field.
"This is
hardly the time for either insults or compliments,
Captain. I suggest we continue our search as
quickly
as possible."
"I couldn't agree with you more."
Star Trek-TOS-027-Mindshadow Page 26
