Chapter 12
Kirk was rudely awakened when he fell out of his bunk, hard. Wedged awkwardly between the bed and the wall, he held his breath for a few seconds, but nothing happened. Just a plain old dream. He exhaled with relief and then laughed out loud at the absurdity of the Captain rubbing his rump after taking a tumble out of his own bed.
Well, his night was over. It was three more hours to the beginning of his shift – though, honestly, his present schedule was so irregular he couldn't remember the last time he had been anywhere on time. Luckily the Enterprise ran itself. Even without a First Officer.
The danger, if he could call it that, was all on the inside of his ship, on decks Four, Five and Six to be precise. There the delegates moved like particles of matter and antimatter with the Captain interposing himself in a usually timely and graceful manner. He was good at it, he knew, but he hated it. He hated how it sapped his energy, how at times it became downright demeaning.
Chuckling no longer, he dressed and took a deep breath before stepping out into the congested corridor. The whole ship was overrun with Ambassadors, Councilors, Generals and Royalty, and their spouses and medical advisors, servants and security personnel, astrologists and whatnot.
Kirk considered he hadn't seen his friend, the Doctor, in over twelve hours and hurried into an empty turbolift. He spoke the words "Deck Seven" like the name of a lover. Deck Seven was home to Sick Bay, the medical labs and briefing rooms and was lacking in residential and guest quarters.
But he found the corridor to Sick Bay unusually thronged with all manner of alien races arranged in an unruly queue. Ignoring the protests, Kirk cut the line and strode straight in to find McCoy throwing a fit.
"Don't these people have health care at home?" the Doctor yelled at Nurse Chapel.
"What's going on here, Doctor?" Kirk intervened before the edgy Head Nurse could respond.
"Captain Kirk!" the Doctor snarled, as if Kirk was the offender. "Our guests discovered that Star Fleet gives free medical care, that's what! Everyone from the Nubedian Empress' maid to the Tellarite mechanic-"
Kirk tried to contain his smile.
"Don't smirk, Kirk! I'm gonna run out of Asinolyathin and Hydrocortilene real soon, so don't come running to me when this bunch of addicts gives you a headache!"
"Okay, Bones, calm down," Kirk hurried, reaching out with a conciliatory hand. "I'll issue a general notification that there will be no more dispensing from Sick Bay."
"Thanks," McCoy grumbled. Then he looked more closely at the Captain. "What brings you here, Jim?"
"Oh," Kirk sighed. "Nothing really, it's just that you're usually stuck on me like a leech on a fish and I was kind of missing you. Also, I fell out of bed and… Well, I see now that you've been busy–what?"
He was rudely pushed by the elderly humanoid female who could curb the interference of the rude Captain no longer.
"I'll get out of your hair," Kirk mumbled, backing out.
"Do something, Captain!" McCoy called. "Oh and hey - Excuse me, Madam! - you up for dinner, Jim?"
"Dinner," Kirk called, getting the hell out of there.
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Rigid with self-control, Spock managed to navigate the dark streets and return to his hostel without attracting attention. He turned on the light in his room and started packing right away. He rehearsed each movement in his head before he performed it, keeping his wild mind on a tether so taut he knew if it snapped he might not even make it off the planet.
Placing the few garments into his bag he noticed how his hands trembled. He looked down on them, not comprehending, then started wringing them cruelly.
He had failed. He had let her bewitch him with her lies. She was long gone now, and with her what few traces might have remained.
His desire for self-punishment erupted cruelly against his mental shields and he didn't know what he would have done had he not suddenly become aware of a presence in the room.
He spun around.
"I will take you to that place," she said breathlessly as she swooped down on him like a large blue bird.
He shrank back and down to avoid her touch and she copied his movement till they were both crouching in the corner of the room.
"They are on to you, SpockVulcan," she whispered, her eyes wide. She was very close but taking care not to touch him. "Your life is in danger."
"How do you know my name?" was all he could think of. His voice was rough with the seesaw of despair and hope.
"Zent was on to you the moment you arrived and as you weren't too careful you and I were seen. They contacted the ones who hurt KirkJim and they will be here soon to destroy all the evidence, you and me included. Meet me at the Crow in ten minutes. Walk out as if you're on your way as usual, then give the two humans the slip. If you can't, then don't come, for both our sakes!"
With that she drew away from him, on all fours – a lizard–like creeping – toward the back window of the room. She opened it and slid out in one smooth motion. He followed her, staying low, and peered over the ledge into a four storey drop, in time to see why the Captain had admired her climbing skills. Then she was gone in the narrow alley.
Staying low he hurriedly gathered his essentials: his phaser, communicator and tricorder, what scrip he had left, the gems and the card to his shuttle. These all fit under his cloak. Then he stood up in the corner of his room, smoothed his clothes, and walked past the window, out the door.
The city was full of humans from the Star Base, but in this touristically challenged neighborhood they stood out sufficiently for Spock to spot them right away. He had the alleys and buildings memorized by now and found no problem gaining entrance to a derelict shack after rounding a corner, blocking its door behind him, then escaping through the front of the building before they broke through or made their way around.
The Crow wasn't far off. Its doorway was crowded as always, and Spock observed it from a dark corner across the street, wishing her instructions had been clearer. Was he supposed to go in? Standing there, deliberating, he felt a heavy hand on his shoulder. It was the old Xylan who had sold him his lead to HazLia. Not sure of his intentions, Spock shrugged off the clawish hand.
"Come with me, Vulcan," the Xylian grumbled. He sounded and looked like a man reluctantly, fearfully doing someone a favor.
They made their way through the jam-packed bar, into the brothel part, up a dingy flight of stairs. His guide knocked at a door on the landing. It was opened by Lia.
"Pay him, Vulcan," she ordered after letting them in. She turned to grab a large pack off the stained mattress.
Spock counted out one hundred scrip while trying to read the unspoken message on Lia's face.
"Give him your shuttle key too," she added, almost frivolously.
Spock frowned but did as he was told. The Xylian literally lit up as he palmed the card. Then he turned and without another word left them.
"He'll talk," Spock warned her.
"Of course he'll talk. But it'll be too late because he'll collect your shuttle and hide it first. It is useless to us anyway. It was bugged from the moment you arrived on this planet."
"So they will follow him…" Spock concluded, appreciative of her plan.
"Not for long. I've got a vehicle of my own waiting. Let's go!"
She shouldered the pack and, to Spock's dismay, disappeared over the windowsill again. He looked out and saw that that side of the building bordered many small shacks, which she was using like a giant stairs. He jumped over and found no difficulty in following her into the night.
