Star Trek - TOS - 30 - DEMONS

by J. M. Dillard

  you?"

  She struck a pose of mock arrogance. "My job, which, of course, I

  happen to be great at. Now let's talk about something more

  interesting. I'm sorry if I embarrassed you with my comment

  earlier."

  "About my moral support." McCoy felt himself beginning to blush again.

  "Well, I'll have to learn to live with these things. Speaking about

  changing the subject, how did you ever come by a name like Anitra?

  I've heard of Anita--"

  "That's usually what everyone hears the first time I

  say it. Never listened to Grieg? The Peer Gynt Suite?"

  "The song about the man going into the mountains, and he runs into all

  these little ghouls, and they dance frantically .. . that was a good

  one."

  "That's The Hall of the Mountain King--an appropriate musical choice

  for the moment, eh? Haven't you heard Anitra's Dance?" And she hummed

  a few bars for him.

  "Yes, of course. That's beautiful. Who was Anitra?"

  "A houri."

  "A what?"

  "A seductress." She smiled appropriately. McCoy fingered his collar

  and cleared his throat until she laughed good-naturedly at him. "I'm

  sorry. I've embarrassed you again."

  "Two to zero," he said. "No fair. Now I get to choose the subject."

  "Fair enough."

  "Why do you think you have an ulcer?"

  Her smile faded until only a trace of it remained, and she looked down

  at the control panel in front of her. "I don't know. Stress of the

  job, I guess."

  "With your sense of humor, I don't see how being a starship physicist

  would really get to you--especially since physics is your field. Most

  people who get to work in a field they love are perfectly content with

  their jobs."

  She smoothed both hands over her forehead and scalp and grabbed the

  hair tightly at the nape of her neck, drawing it up as if the weight of

  it on her back had suddenly become too much. "That's true. Maybe the

  cause of my ulcer is something I'm not at liberty to

  talk about." Her head was tilted downward, toward McCoy, and her

  expression was now quite serious.

  McCoy drew in his breath at how suddenly beautiful she had become. "My

  God," he said suddenly. "Your eyes are purple."

  It caught her off guard, and she flushed scarlet to her hairline.

  "That's violet to you, Doctor."

  "Whatever you call it, it's the prettiest color I've ever seen in a

  pair of eyes," McCoy said. "Embarrassed you, didn't I?"

  "That's two for me, one for you."

  "We haven't finished talking about your ulcer yet. And it just

  occurred to me that I ought to have a handicap--I'm at a disadvantage,

  since you know everything I think before I say it."

  "There's an ugly rumor going around to that effect. Just please, don't

  blow my cover with anyone else. And, for the record, I've been taking

  lessons with Spock."

  "What do you need lessons from Spock for?"

  "So I can not read people's minds if I choose to. I was pretty

  miserable before he started tutoring me."

  "So it wasn't just that mysterious 'project' all the time?"

  "No. We've spent a lot of time learning to control my ability." She

  smiled ruefully. "If I hadn't learned about shielding, I think I would

  have finally gone crazy."

  "I guess I never really thought much about it," said McCoy. "I always

  envied tele paths being able to know what others were thinking. I

  guess it wouldn't be so much fun to constantly be flooded with everyone

  else's thoughts."

  "There are times," she said with a wry expression, "when it isn't fun

  to know what others are thinking about you. It's kind of like finding

  out what someone has said behind your back. Sometimes even your

  friends might not think too much of something you do, but most people

  are too polite to come right out and say what they think. White lies

  are really more of a courtesy than you know. They really keep people's

  egos from constant bruising. I'm a great believer in white lies."

  "And I believed you when you said I was cute."

  She smiled the houri's smile again. "And you thought I was mooning

  over Spock."

  "Now that's not fair," McCoy said. "You were reading my mind then."

  "Tsk, tsk, Doctor--it was written all over you. You were certain I had

  joined the ranks of unrequited Vulcanophiles."

  "Well," he protested half-heartedly, "you certainly had all the

  sympto ms."

  She twirled a lock of hair around her finger and studied it idly. "I

  suppose I do have a certain .. . fascination .. ." (McCoy winced at

  her use of the word)"... for all things Vulcan. Maybe it's because of

  the control they offer. After being at the mercy of everyone else's

  thoughts and feelings, not to mention my own, for so long, I guess I

  like the thought of finally being in control of it all."

  "My dear, you are the last person in the entire world I could picture

  as a Vulcan. You're far too fun-loving for that. And if you cut

  yourself off from all that's human, you'll wind up missing an awful

  lot."

  She laughed. "I suppose you're right. ""Of course I'm right. Just

  don't ask Spock to back me up."

  "I wouldn't dream of it." She yawned and rubbed her eyes.

  "A little tired?" he asked.

  She nodded. "Another all-night brainstorm session with Spock."

  "You're not a Vulcan, my dear. Just because you can compete with Spock

  intellectually doesn't mean you have to keep up with him physically."

  "I know." She swiveled in the chair toward him and looked in his eyes

  intently. "But don't you think that the gravity of the situation

  merits the loss of a few nights' sleep?"

  "God," he groaned. "Listen to you--you're even starting to sound like

  him. Look, we're not expecting anyone to come pounding on that door

  for at least an hour or so. Why don't you lie down for a few

  minutes?"

  She looked painfully tempted. "I couldn't."

  "Nonsense. You're the one running the show, and if you get too tired

  to think clearly, go stretch out in the other room and turn out the

  light."

  "I suppose a few minutes wouldn't hurt," said Anitra. "But what if

  something happens?"

  "I may not be a genius, but I think I can figure out if I need to call

  you. Go on, now."

  She shrugged helplessly.

  It was dark and cool in the little lounge. Amanda lay corpselike on

  the couch at the other end of the room, and while Anitra found it

  rather morbid sharing the

  room with her, there was no other alternative. She lay, as far away

  as possible, on the floor near the entrance.

  Seconds after her eyes closed, Anitra was asleep, but it was not the

  pleasant experience she had anticipated. It was deep, trancelike, and

  she fell instantly into a nightmare.

  In her dream, Anitra lay sleeping in the little lounge, through some

  nocturnal magic having acquired the ability to see through closed

  eyelids. Amanda was there, too, and rose silently from the couch--not

  using her legs and arms, but levitating straight up into the air. About

  five f
eet above the couch, she turned round and round, like a

  corkscrew, and then slowly righted herself, descending until at last

  her feet gently contacted the floor. Anitra struggled to scream

  McCoy's name, but the trance was too deep, and her vocal cords were

  paralyzed. Nor could she run, for her limbs had become too heavy to

  move. She lay perfectly motionless, except for her steady breathing,

  unable even to blink. The torment continued for some time-Amanda

  always nearing, always closer, yet never quite close enough to touch.

  The touch of a warm hand broke the spell, and she woke gratefully,

  opening her eyes to darkness. "Doctor?"

  "A neat trick, don't you think?" Amanda whispered slyly. Her eyes

  glowed palely in the darkness.

  Chapter Seven

  McCoy let kirk in the door to auxiliary control and closed and locked

  it as quickly as possible behind him.

  "That was fast," McCoy said.

  "That's why I get to be captain." Kirk looked around the room.

  "Spock's not back yet?"

  "Not yet. Anitra wasn't expecting either one of you for another half

  hour."

  "Where is she?"

  McCoy lowered himself shakily into a chair. "We've had a little

  excitement while you were gone, Jim. Amanda--woke up."

  "She did?" Kirk stiffened as though struck by a thunderbolt. "How is

  she?"

  McCoy shook his head. "The things were playing possum on us, Jim."

  "They did a damn good job."

  "No kidding. My guess is they did it to get to Anitra, and they've

  been waiting for the opportunity all this time. I guess they found out

  about her somehow and really wanted her. That's my guess, anyway." He

  put his face in his hands and peered down through his fingers. "She

  went to lie down in the other room. Five

  minutes later, I heard her scream. Amanda was trying to strangle

  her."

  "My God," Kirk whispered. "What'd you do?"

  "You know me--never without a medikit. I gave that woman enough elenal

  to put her to sleep till next Christmas."

  "How's Anitra?"

  "Upset, naturally--other than that, just bruised. It gave her one hell

  of a scare. And she's exhausted from all that's been happening.

  Working late with Spock. She needed a rest...."

  "So you gave her a dose, too," Kirk sounded disapproving. "Not enough

  to keep her out until Christmas, I hope. We're going to have to be

  ready to leave as soon as Spock gets back."

  "Nan," McCoy rubbed his face, "she'll be out another half hour, I

  figure. We can spare that much time, can't we?"

  "Maybe," Kirk said. He started for the lounge.

  "Jim?" McCoy called. "No point in going in there. They're both out

  cold."

  Kirk stopped at the entrance to the little room and half turned his

  head back toward the doctor. McCoy could not see his face. "I just

  wanted to check on Anitra," he said easily. "No harm in that, is

  there?"

  There was a heartbeat's pause. No harm that McCoy could see ... yet

  there was something wrong with the question, with the way that Kirk

  stood in the doorway. McCoy realized that the hairs on his scalp and

  neck were standing straight up.

  "Dear God," McCoy whispered. "Jim--"

  Kirk's back relaxed. "Something wrong, Doctor?"

  "Yes. Yes, there's something wrong," McCoy croaked forcing the words

  from his throat against their will. In the midst of his terror, he was

  suddenly struck by anger at what had been done to his friend. "Just

  what in hell are you?"

  Without turning around, Kirk swiveled his head around at an impossible

  angle so that it faced McCoy.

  "We," he corrected McCoy, smiling. "What in hell are we?"

  Spock completed his task in engineering without incident, although he

  was considerably delayed by two engineering trainees engaged in a task

  near the matter antimatter pods. He was making his way back down the

  corridor from engineering to the emergency shaft when he turned a

  corner and bumped directly into Lieutenant Uhura. Both of them did a

  double take, but Uhura had her phaser ready. Spock never had the

  chance to draw his. She waved it at him, looking bedraggled and a

  little wild-eyed.

  "All right, stop it. Stop it right there or I'll fire."

  He half raised his arms in acquiescence. From the intensity of her

  expression, she clearly meant business. Spock sighed. She was too far

  away for him to attempt to wrestle the phaser from her; logically,

  there was not much left to do, except to try to get closer to the

  phaser.

  He took a tentative step toward her, but she would have none of it.

  "One more," she said, her voice deadly, "and I'll shoot."

  "I have no doubt of that," Spock said and fastened his eyes on the

  deck.

  She gestured menacingly with the phaser. "Where's the captain?"

  Spock lowered his hands and said with mild exasperation, "That seems

  to be a most popular line of inquiry of late. Lieutenant, I'm afraid

  this will prove to be quite pointless. It would be less frustrating

  for both of us if you simply fired."

  "Get those hands up," she barked with such explosive force that Spock

  raised his hands with exceptional dispatch. "And didn't your mother

  tell you it was rude not to look at people who were talking to you?"

  Spock managed a step closer without her noticing. "Eye behavior is

  culturally bound, Lieutenant."

  "You haven't answered my question."

  Spock thought for a moment. "Yes, I believe she did."

  Uhura grimaced as she thrust the phaser closer. "For God's sake, not

  that question--the one about Captain Kirk."

  "If I knew where he was," Spock said, "I would not tell you. And at

  this moment I cannot say with certainty. I suggest you kill me and

  tell Mr. Scott that I knew nothing."

  "Now why would I tell Scott .. ." Uhura's voice trailed off

  uncertainly.

  At that moment, Spock moved close enough to see that the phaser was set

  on stun. In a breach of Vulcan ethics necessitated by the urgency of

  the situation, he lowered his mental shields just long enough to brush

  up against Uhura's mind. He looked up at her.

  "Lieutenant Uhura," he said almost warmly.

  "It is you, isn't it, sir?" Uhura grinned broadly, and for a moment

  was tempted to hug him. "Sorry, Mr. Spock. I should have known when

  you answered that question about your mother."

  "Why were you so interested in the captain's whereabouts?"

  "Who wouldn't be? Mutiny on the bridge, total chaos on the rest of the

  ship." She shuddered. "For a moment, I thought you were in cahoots

  with everyone else on the bridge--"

  "Everyone else is affected?"

  "On the bridge at least," she said soberly. "But not me. I had just

  reported for duty. When I stepped off the turbolift, I saw the stars

  on the view screen, and I was going to ask Mr. Scott if our orders had

  been changed." She closed her eyes and shuddered. "Sulu was sitting

  at his post. He looked like he was .. . hypnotized or something. He

  just sat, staring straight ahead, with his mouth open and Scott's hands

  we
re holding his head--sort of the way you do it, sir, for the Vulcan

  mind meld. But Scott's fingers .. . Mr. Spock, they were glowing. It

  seemed to travel down from Scott's hands to Sulu, because then Sulu's

  eyes started glowing with the same kind of light.

  "I guess they heard me come in, because when they finished, everyone on

  the bridge was looking at me. They were all wearing these horrible,

  creepy smiles. I figured I was their next target." She bowed her

  head. "You know, sir, I've never left my post before--"

  "I know, Lieutenant. You had no choice."

  "I didn't. I stepped right back onto the lift and went to my quarters

  and locked myself in. When I calmed down, it occurred to me that they

  might look for me there. Plus, I hoped if the captain weren't on the

  bridge, maybe he had somehow escaped, and maybe I

  could find him. That's when I ran into you." Her soft eyes widened.

  "Mr. Spock, what is happening to everyone?"

  "You see that they are not themselves," Spock said quietly. "They are

  controlled by an outside force-some type of parasite. As you saw, they