Boldly to go, Chapter 3
By Mistress V
Disclaimers as in Chapter 1.
Thanks to jayvee for ideas!
Spock gazed at his image in the sickbay mirror. His eyebrows lifted in surprise, but for the first time in all his years, they were human in their shape. The expression looked the same as he'd seen his shipmates do hundreds of times. It was the eyes staring back at him that were so fascinating. They were the blue shade of his mother's family. Paired with the hair that now was just a few tones darker than Kirk's, the package was indeed wrapped up differently.
"Pretty amazing, eh, Spock?" Kirk said as he joined him. "I can see where you get your mother's good looks now."
Spock allowed his longtime friend this feeble attempt at humor. "I suppose you are here to divest me of my coiffure," he said lightly.
"Yep, it's just too unusual for the time." Kirk produced a laser hair trimmer and indicated a nearby chair. "Have a seat. I spent a summer helping out at the barber shop back home and can get you looking shipshape in no time."
"I have selected this style." Spock indicated an image on his tricorder. "I feel it will suit the purpose."
"Looks fine." Kirk threw a cover around the first officer and turned on the clippers. "We don't want it too short, you'd look like a prison escapee. Too long and you might be accused of being a member of the Swingjugend." Kirk paused. "Maybe not that, but at the very least a jazz musician."
"Very well." Spock gave a quiet sigh of long-suffering annoyance. "We cannot risk a failure. Though I am curious how the Romulan pair have adapted."
"Bones says it looks like their ears were docked by surgery of some kind. Their skintone's a mystery, though. Might be drug-induced, or some kind of makeup." Kirk pointed at the mirror. "There you are, Spock. What do you think? You could be the Arrow Shirt man!"
"It is…acceptable," Spock remarked thoughtfully, inwardly shocked at how All-Terran he now looked. But he allowed nothing even remotely recognizable as surprise to register on his face. "Shall we join the others?"
"Sure. Be right there." Kirk shrugged and started cleaning up, wondering what Sarek would say if he saw his son right now. Scratch that, he corrected himself. How about Amanda?
vvvvvv
"Before we leave for Earth, let's go through our data once more," Seven ordered the group. "Captain, you are?"
"Jake Kramer, from Farmin'ton," Kirk replied with a soft twang he hadn't used since his days in Iowa. "Right, Zack?"
"Right, Jake. And what are we doin' out these parts?" Seven mimicked the accent a little more convincingly.
"Propsectin'. For silver an' that yoo-raynyum." Remarkably, Kirk managed a straight face as he spoke.
"It'll do for now, better let me do the talking. We'll get suited up once we're back at my base." Seven turned to Spock and McCoy. "Codenames?" he asked.
"Sturgeon," Spock replied.
"Reindeer," McCoy added.
The pair went through recognition phrases with Seven in Russian and German as well as English. Satisfied, the man indicated the group to gather closer.
"We need to leave for base. It's going to be a quick journey but you might feel disoriented once we're there. Isis provided this to take." Seven handed out tablets which dissolved on everyone's tongue. "It's the only way to get us there quickly. The way back won't be as difficult."
Kirk turned to Scotty. "You have her," he told the engineer. "Be careful, will you?"
"Aye, sir. We'll be waitin' at the rendezvous point." Scotty gave his captain a smile.
"Try not to over-tax the engines, eh?" Kirk replied.
The presence of a black cat silenced everyone. The feline rubbed around Seven's legs with a purr, then leaped into his arms.
"Let's be off," Seven said.
He twisted the small silver pen-like object he was never without. A second later, the group disappeared into a cloud of colorful swirling smoke.
vvvvvvvvv
Isis, in her cat form, led the arrivals out of the transport chamber. The feline strutted into the main office and paused with a meow at the desk where a female sat, then streaked off somewhere.
"Oh, hi," Roberta Lincoln said as she filed her nails. Her eyes were made up in a curious mix of blue and silver. She resembled a light bulb switching on and off each time she blinked. "You brought friends, how nice!"
"Any messages?" Seven asked his oft-scatterbrained secretary.
She handed him some slips of paper, all the while taking in the visitors. "Why, Mr. Kirk! What are you doing here?"
"Helping Isis and me." Seven moved over to the computer module, Spock following.
"Hey, you." Roberta pointed at Spock with a pale frosted fingertip, which matched the froth of curls that were lacquered into place on her head. "Haven't we met?"
The Vulcan shook his head, his own hair falling carefully back into side-parted place. "I do not believe we have," he replied, testing the waters.
"I could swear we did. You got a brother, maybe?" Roberta's face twisted itself into a puzzled frown.
"No…brother." Spock turned to Seven and they busied themselves reading data.
vvvvvvvvvvv
"Just another moment," Isis instructed Spock. She continued gritting his nails with what looked like ink. "This will help corroborate your trade of printer. Not only will that explain your unusual pallor, but also how you came to possess the document that was stolen. You were delivering an order to local headquarters when an informant slipped you the details."
"That is logical," the Vulcan replied. Like McCoy, he was attired in worn workmen's clothing, quite the opposite of Kirk and Seven. The pair looked as though they'd wandered off a Western film set, battered cowboy boots and all.
"Equipment check," Seven announced.
Spock drew out a slide rule, a small penlight and an ancient fountain pen. He, McCoy and Seven went over how to contact base in an emergency.
"Isis will be monitoring everything," Seven went on, giving everyone a final once-over. "She can't actually perform the mission, as you know, though she can assist in any other way possible. I'm hoping you don't need her services but there are a whole lot of unknowns in the mix. And one last thing for you, just in case it's needed." Seven handed Spock a small used black leather notebook, which resembled the proverbial "little black book" in use at the time by males from all over.
The Vulcan opened it and raised a now-human eyebrow. "Fascinating," he said. "How does it work?"
"Fingertip sensitivity," Seven replied. "It's based on an old Terran model from the early 21st century. All the data you need in the palm of your hand. If the correct support system was in place, you'd also be able to speak with us. Unfortunately, that won't come about for some time. And the small button at the back will cause auto-destruct if it comes to that. You can't let these objects fall into the wrong hands."
"What if that happens?" McCoy asked, obviously still nervous about what he'd left behind on Sigma Iotia II.
"If called upon, I can obliterate a person's memory of occurrences," Isis told him. "This is usually not permitted, but in an emergency, it is a necessary action."
"It's time." Seven moved to the control panel and punched in a code and nodded at Spock and McCoy. Smoke began to appear in the transport chamber. "Good luck to you both," he said as the pair walked into the past.
vvvvvvvvvvvvvvv
"This is the place," McCoy grunted with a nod. The sign on the shop read "Blumengeschaft."
The streets of Hammelburg were quiet in the late afternoon, though an unusually large number of uniformed Gestapo personnel were present everywhere. So far, the pair had not been stopped since they walked into the town. They'd set down just on its outskirts but still hidden, thanks to Seven's pinpoint calculations.
They entered the florist's establishment, brass bells announcing their arrival. There were, thankfully, no other customers about. An older man was at the counter, doing figures on a notepad.
"Guten Abend," Spock began.
"Good afternoon, gentlemen. May I assist you?" he asked pleasantly.
"Have you any bronze chrysanthemums?" The first part of the recognition code came easily off the Vulcan's tongue.
"Unfortunately, we do not. How about some nice violet ones?" The man gave the correct counter phrase. His eyes regarded them curiously but his expression remained neutral.
"My Aunt Greta prefers bronze. As it is her birthday, I do not wish to disappoint her," Spock continued.
"I see." The clerk paused to write down notes on a slip of paper. "There is a florist on the other side of town who will be able to help you. Here is the address. I am sorry we could not be of service to you gentlemen."
"Thank you, sir," McCoy said. "Good afternoon to you."
Once they were safely outside, Spock bought a newspaper at the local stand. He and McCoy pretended to scan its content but instead focused on the note that had been given them.
It read, simply, "The cemetery. 18:00 hours. Tonight." A small map was drawn, indicating where the meeting was to take place.
"What now?" McCoy asked. It was only 16:00.
"Something to drink," Spock replied in his prefect German. "Let us go to the Hofbrauhaus, my friend."
The two headed across the cobbled street to pass the time until the next phase of their mission.
End of Chapter 3.
The flower shop was used as an underground contact station in "Le Beau and the Little Old Lady", true, but the woman in that episode, Celeste Yarnall, also appeared in Star Trek's "The Apple". She played Yeoman Martha Landon--Chekov's romantic interest.
