Star Trek-TOS-027-Mindshadow

by Kevin Underwood

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."