Star Trek - TOS - 30 - DEMONS

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Star Trek - TOS - 30 - DEMONS Page 6

by J. M. Dillard


  surprised when McCoy called to say that working round the clock, the

  medical staff had managed to psycho scan only half the crew, and of

  those, all were normal.

  "So much for shore leave," Kirk said quietly.

  The remark had been too soft for others on the bridge to

  overhear--except, of course, for Spock. The Vulcan walked over to

  Kirk's side.

  "Captain," he said in a low voice, "for one guilty of murder charges,

  Vulcan would be a most difficult planet to escape from, particularly if

  security central were alerted to the problem and landing parties

  required to stay in groups of three or four."

  Kirk grunted. "If they were required to stay together the entire

  time--it might work." He smiled up at his first officer. "A logical

  solution, Mr. Spock, but I might be tempted to think that you're

  trying to convince me not to cancel shore leave for purely ulterior

  motives."

  Spock's expression was one of mild shock. "Sir, I was merely trying to

  be of assistance.. .."

  Kirk laughed briefly. "So be it. We're long overdue for a little R

  and R. Groups of four--no one is to be alone, not even for an

  instant."

  "That," said Spock, "is likely to prove interesting." He returned to

  his station and bent over his viewer.

  "Maybe it won't be so bad," Kirk mused, watching the planet rotate on

  the view screen. "Is there any place you would recommend, Spock, for

  out-of-towners looking for some purely human forms of entertainment?"

  Spock did not answer. He remained bent over his viewer.

  "Spock? Is there something wrong?" Kirk got out of his chair and went

  over to Spock's station.

  "There appear to be some abnormalities with Vulcan's atmosphere," Spock

  said, distracted, without looking up.

  "Abnormalities?"

  "It cannot be the instruments," Spock said. "I just ran diagnostics on

  them; they're in perfect working order. As I know the exact

  composition of Vulcan's atmosphere, I was scanning to test their

  calibration. I often do so as a matter of procedure--"

  "What sort of abnormalities, Spock?" Spock looked up and sighed. "My

  scanner registers the atmosphere as unusually dense. According to

  computer analysis, the chemical composition and consistency indicates

  that the atmosphere has become .. . split-pea soup." "Split-pea soup?"

  Kirk asked.

  "There is something I must talk to you about," Spock said. He and

  Anitra sat in the office in his quarters.

  "Then talk, sir," she said.

  "I do not understand the purpose of practical joking."

  "It's funny."

  Spock focused his gaze on her intently, and she shifted her chair; if

  she didn't know him better, she might think he was trying to intimidate

  her with that peculiar, nonthreatening but nonetheless frightening way

  Vulcans had. "You might think such jokes humorous, Dr. Lanter, but

  they can lead to serious outcomes."

  "Such as?" Anitra asked coolly.

  "Changing the readings of instruments at critical times when quick

  decisions must be made could lead to life-threatening situations. And

  personally humiliating the captain serves no purpose except to

  infuriate him and, should you be discovered to be the perpetrator,

  damage your career in Star Fleet." "What makes you think it's me?"

  Spock stared at her without answering, and she felt herself flushing in

  spite of herself.

  "And besides," she said, "maybe I'm not that concerned about my

  career."

  "I am at present," Spock said. "We cannot afford any interference with

  our mission."

  "All right, then, I apologize," she said, straight

  faced, then she suddenly covered her mouth with her hand. "But you

  have to admit, it was funny."

  Spock held her with that stony stare. "It is not necessary to

  apologize to me."

  "Then what do you want?"

  "Apologize to the captain."

  She blanched and lowered her hand. "You just said that we couldn't

  risk any interference--"

  "Ensign, he has ordered me to find the perpetrator. I could have told

  him that I knew who it was, but I would prefer you went to him

  voluntarily."

  "I see." She considered it for a moment. "I suppose in that case, I

  volunteer."

  Kirk was just about to step into the shower fully clothed--the sonic,

  that is, since he hadn't resorted to water showers since the fateful

  incident--when the buzzer sounded.

  It was Anitra Lanter.

  "Come in, Ensign." For a minute, he could not piece together why she

  was there.

  "I've come to c onfess, Captain," she said.

  She seemed contrite enough, but there was a hint of a smirk in her eyes

  that aggravated the hell out of him. "I see. Would you like to

  explain to me why you did it, Ensign?"

  She looked at the floor. Kirk was not sure if it was out of shame and

  regret, or simply an attempt to hide those dancing eyes. "I suppose I

  thought it was-funny, sir."

  "Funny," he echoed tonelessly. "Do you realize that you could be

  charged with breaking and entering a senior officer's quarters? And

  sabotage, for tampering

  with the communications board and Mr. Spock's computers?"

  "Yes, sir," she said in what Kirk judged to be a sincerely meek

  voice.

  "I could very easily slap you with ten demerits, Ensign, and have you

  decommissioned. Do you understand that?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "But that would be a waste of a very ingenious officer. Since you

  appear to be so good at manipulating the hardware around here, I'm

  going to give you a little project that you can do in your off-duty

  hours, to keep you out of trouble. Engineer Scott needs some help

  overhauling the engines. Have you ever overhauled engines, Ensign?"

  "No, sir. I guess I've just been lucky," she answered, without a trace

  of impudence.

  Kirk was beginning to experience some degree of satisfaction. For an

  experienced engineer, an overhaul might take a day--for an engineering

  genius like Scotty, several hours. A neophyte--ah, a neophyte might

  well take forever. "It's a project that usually requires two men and a

  full day's work. I'm sure those men would appreciate getting off early

  for shore leave. I'm going to let you do their work, Ensign--but you

  are not relieved of any of your other duties. You are to do it only

  when you are off duty. Understood?"

  "Understood. If I finish in time, may I take shore leave, sir?" she

  asked timidly.

  Kirk smiled sardonically. "Of course, Ensign." By that time, leave on

  Vulcan would be nothing more than a memory--one that she would

  definitely not share with the rest of the crew.

  She smiled suddenly and brilliantly at him. "Is that all, sir?"

  "That's all," Kirk said smugly. She would soon find it to be more than

  enough.

  Each day the trap came up empty, while the rosebushes were destroyed

  methodically, one by one. Two more dead animals were discovered and

  put into the incinerator.

  One evening after the guests had retired, Amanda
went to speak with her

  husband. He had not gone to bed, of course, but was sitting in his

  study. It seemed he never came to bed at all these days.

  The door to Sarek's study opened in response to his wife's voice. Sarek

  watched her as she came in, and knew that she was quite agitated,

  although anyone else would not have been able to tell from her

  perfectly composed movements. Only her eyes betrayed her, and her

  lips, which were pressed together somewhat more tightly than usual.

  "Sarek," she began in a voice deceptively calm to the ear, "have you

  moved your father's ahn vahr for any reason?" The double-edged sword

  had been in Sarek's family for centuries and was displayed in a place

  of honor on the wall of the central room, an ancient reminder of

  Vulcan's warrior past. Please, Amanda's eyes begged numbly. Say yes.

  Say you took it to have it polished.

  "No," said Sarek. "Is it missing?"

  His wife's lips compressed even more. "Come with me," she said

  resolutely. "You must see this."

  Without question, Sarek rose and followed his wife to the central room.

  The ahn vahr was, indeed, missing

  from its customary place. But something even more bizarre .. . the

  portrait of Amanda and her son hung in its usual place--upside down.

  "Who would do this?" Amanda whispered. "Why would anyone here do

  something like this?" This was Vulcan, not Earth. Nothing irrational

  or insane had happened here in five thousand years, except in the

  tourist quarter .. . but not here.

  Sarek did not answer her. He walked over to the portrait and righted

  it, and after a time, he said, "I will implement the security screens

  and see to it that our guests are given the code."

  "Not Starnn," Amanda said quickly, in spite of herself. "Just Silek.

  Starnn doesn't need it; he always comes home with you, anyway."

  Sarek studied the bare spot on the wall. "As you wish, Amanda."

  No doubt it was the rigorous code of Vulcan hospitality that compelled

  Spock to invite Kirk and McCoy to visit his parents' home in ShiKahr.

  Kirk had accepted out of politeness, although he made it clear to Spock

  that at least a few hours' leave would be dedicated to less civilized

  pursuits. McCoy accepted out of a desire to keep an eye on Anitra;

  upon learning she would not be coming, he stewed silently on his

  transporter pad, thinking of the hours that he could have spent in one

  of the tourist bars in the capital.

  Scott was just on the verge of beaming them down when Anitra entered

  the transporter room. She gave them all a sprightly nod and took her

  place on the platform next to Spock.

  "Ensign Lanter." Kirk glowered at her. "I thought we had an

  agreement."

  She blinked innocently at him. "Is there a problem, sir? I thought

  you said that when I was finished overhauling the engines--"

  "Aye," Scott spoke up with enthusiasm before the captain could protest.

  "And I'd forgotten to thank ye, sir. It's glad I am you sent her to

  help out. I had no idea the ensign here was such an old salt at

  overhaulin' engines.. .."

  "I'm not, Mr. Scott," Anitra said quickly before Kirk could protest,

  but not before he shot her a withering look. "I swear, that's the

  first time I've ever helped to overhaul an engine."

  "You'll never get me to believe it," Scott said, addressing Kirk.

  "Captain, the woman's a phenomenon. She never asked a single question,

  just seemed to know what to do before I could get the words out of my

  mouth. And she did the job exactly as I woulda done it myself. Simply

  uncanny. It took half the time. I usually have to repeat myself a

  hundred times before a greenhorn understands what's goin' on."

  "I see," Kirk said heavily, without taking his eyes off of Lanter.

  "Well, I'm most grateful, sir, for your sendin' Dr. Lanter to help

  out."

  Anitra smiled her brilliant smile at them all; if there had been a

  trace of smugness in it, Kirk would have ordered her off the platform.

  As it was, he resigned himself to a stony, disapproving glare.

  For some reason, Scott was unable to get a fix on the interior of

  Spock's home, and they were required to

  beam down outside. This caused Kirk and McCoy to put an immediate,

  silent curse on Star Fleet and Komack in particular, for the climate

  could not, even with the most generous interpretation, be called

  inviting. It was early evening, just before sunset, the time when the

  afternoon winds were in full force. The breezes, if they could be

  called by such a gentle name, gave no relief from the 115 heat; indeed,

  they seemed hotter than the still air, and served only to punctuate the

  heat all the more, and to whip up sand, stinging human eyes.

  McCoy wondered aloud how such an advanced civilization could still be

  afflicted with sand streets.

  Spock paid him no heed, but held his hand before a small metal plate on

  the great stone wall which stood before them. He seemed rather

  surprised when nothing happened.

  "This may explain the problem with the transporter, Captain. I believe

  that the security system is on."

  Kirk wiped the perspiration from his forehead and left his hand there

  to shield his eyes from the sand. "I thought you said they were

  expecting us."

  Spock shrugged. "They are. Most unusual. My parents haven't used the

  security system for twenty years."

  "I hope you haven't forgotten the code," McCoy raised his voice in a

  rather ungracious tone over the howling wind. "I'd like to get out of

  this mess." Under his breath he muttered, "Hell of a place for R and

  R."

  Spock turned his face toward him and arched a brow, but did not answer.

  Instead, he touched the four corners of the metal plate in what seemed

  to be a random fashion. The massive gate slid open.

  The outside of the house was typically Vulcan in design--an

  unimpressive dome-shaped structure, the same as all Vulcan homes,

  whether they were built two thousand years ago, a hundred years ago or

  yesterday. Inside, the humans noticed with immediate relief that the

  house was cooler and not as dry--indeed, it was almost comfortable for

  a human, although not quite as cool as they would have liked.

  Naturally, thought Kirk, a human lives here, too.

  They walked through a long foyer into a large, open room, which was

  evidently used for entertaining guests.

  "Wait here," Spock told them, then disappeared.

  Kirk smiled; the house rather reminded him of his first officer. All

  Vulcan on the outside, but inside, there was definitely a human's

  touch an old upright piano, a comfortable-looking sofa of decidedly

  Terran design, and on the wall, near displays of fierce-looking Vulcan

  weaponry, a portrait of mother and son.

  Spock returned shortly. He wore a slight frown, which indicated that

  things were not as he had expected to find them. "I know that my

  mother is tutoring at this time. However, I had expected my father and

  some house guests to be present. Perhaps they were detained."

  Anitra was staring dreamily at the portrait. "Is this your mother?" />
  Spock nodded. "Twenty-six years ago."

  "She's very beautiful."

  Spock grunted assent.

  "The polite thing to do is thank her, Spock," said McCoy.

  Spock raised his eyebrows in mild surprise. "I had

  no hand in it, Dr. McCoy. I can scarcely take credit." He looked

  distractedly at the wall for a moment. "Odd..."

  "What is it, Spock?" asked Kirk. "Something missing?"

  "Yes ... an antique. Perhaps my parents took it to be repaired. But I

  am failing in my duties as host. Please, sit down. Doctor, I am sure

  you would appreciate something alcoholic to drink."

  McCoy sat on the couch, surprised. "You mean, your parents stock

  liquor?"

  "They entertain frequently. And my mother has been known to imbibe

  occasionally. Whiskey? And you, Captain--a brandy?"

  Kirk and McCoy smiled and shrugged at each other from across the couch

  before nodding. Spock playing bartender. Perhaps this wouldn't be so

  unpleasant after all.

  "Dr. Lanter?"

  Anitra had wandered over to the far end of the room and stood gazing

 

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