Ghost In The Machine
Chapter 14:
A spider is tangled up with me.
It spins a web,
It spins a web for me…
The voice in his mind saved him. It cried out in sudden terror. Spock! Take care! Spock!
The door to the clensor abruptly whooshed open to admit McCoy, "Jim! Spock? What in green blooded blazes are you two doin' in here? If you don't hurry we're gonna miss the Ceremony of the Dawn Ryhanen loves so much. What the …"
McCoy's words trailed off as he caught sight of the thing that had Spock pinned against the clensor wall. Far taller than a man it was palely amorphous, strangely ethereal and insubstantial. McCoy recognised it with a spurt of fear. With a strangled cry, he reached automatically for the phaser on his belt. But the creature was already in motion. It seemed to swirl upwards, solidifying into a dense shape that McCoy's subconscious accepted - even if his conscious mind did not - before hurtling like a tornado towards the door. Flickering with an alien iridescence, it thrust McCoy aside before dissipating into thin air.
McCoy blinked, taken by surprise, before he rushed to Spock's side. The first officer slipped bonelessly down the wall to the floor. He panted for breath as if he had just sprinted the one thousand yard dash. An unusual grey mottling, like the spots on an albino leopard, marred the skin along his cheek, brow and jaw line, a bizarre tattoo, extending along his breastbone, and down his arms.
McCoy gathered the lifeless Vulcan up into his arms. He cradled Spock against his chest, "Are you all right? The wraith's gone. Did it hurt you? Spock, answer me, Godammit?"
Spock blinked, dark eyes glazed as he worked to control the incredible desolation that washed over him, trying to come to terms with sudden loss. He struggled weakly to escape McCoy's confining hold, but lacked the strength even for that.
"Jim," he rasped out, confused by the creatures abrupt desertion. "Jim …"
With a shudder that rocked his whole body from neck to knees the tension left him as he abruptly gave in and relaxed against the doctor's shoulder, needing the comfort of Human contact if only for that moment.
McCoy obliged, rocking him gently, "It's okay. You're safe now, Spock. You're safe."
It took both Spock and McCoy a while to recover – Spock from the effects of the wraith's sexual inducement and attempted mind meld, McCoy from shock and guilt at letting the creature get by him unrecognised, though it seemed to McCoy the disguise had been damn near perfect. Worried by Spock's pallor, the doctor wanted him to return to the Enterprise but the First Officer quietly demurred.
"We need to locate the Captain, Doctor McCoy. I am certain he is still alive; though for how long that will remain the case, it is difficult to estimate. Did you comply with my request that Mr. Scott make a sensor sweep of the planet?"
"Sure. He's gonna look for any anomalous life readings just like you asked and get back to us as soon as he can."
As neither of them had been in any fit state to attend the mist-fall ritual at breakfast, McCoy had sent down to room service for a restorative flask of Vulcan riman wine for Spock and a large pot of coffee for himself. Now, McCoy filled Spock's glass and put the drink into his hand. "You think that girl Jim took up with was a wraith?"
With atypical compliance, Spock raised the glass to his lips and drank the cordial in one swallow. McCoy refilled the glass immediately.
"They appear to have the ability to assume whatever shape they require, at least once they have a 'pattern' to follow, Doctor." Spock rubbed at one of the mottled patches on his cheek, faded now but still visible, feeling the roughened skin beneath his fingertip. It was faintly sore and McCoy had soon confirmed his suspicion that scrapings of skin cells had gone from the marked areas.
"It is logical to assume that the young woman the Captain befriended was, indeed, a wraith. I have no doubt that my own 'double' will emerge in due course. That is why it is imperative we do not return to the ship and no-one from there beams down to the planet. Mr. Scott should be on his guard against the Captain, you, or me, Doctor."
"Why me? I've not had any contact with the creatures…"
"Not yet, Doctor. However, I do believe an attempt will be made to take you, possibly with either the Captain or myself as the bait. The impostors are … quite resourceful and convincing." He fell silent, reliving that fateful meeting, the shame washing over him as he recalled the way he had succumbed to the creatures lure.
"Yeah?" McCoy coughed, not liking the sound of that at all. "And you've still got no idea why they want us? Didn't you manage to pick somethin' up while it was trying to meld with you?"
Spock inhaled, narrow shoulders tautening. He rose from his seat on the edge of the sleeping dais, fingers tightening around the glass he still held as he took a tentative step in McCoy's direction, intending to set the tumbler down on the nearby table. "No, Doctor I did not. The impostor kept me … somewhat occupied."
Warm olive colour tinged Spock's pale complexion, emphasizing the pallid blotches. "Unfortunately, the wraith proved far more adept than I . It may well have access to most of my memory, plus that of the Captain."
Spock hesitated for an instant, brows furrowed, before changing the subject. "Before you left us alone, the counterfeit Kirk mentioned something about 'news' he had to impart. Do you know what it meant?"
"Huh?" McCoy pushed himself out of the chair he occupied and took the glass from Spock's hands.
He had lost the thread of the conversation while trying to figure out what nerve he had unexpectedly hit. It took a lot to make the Vulcan blush but the Chief Surgeon was sure the tide of blood suffusing Spock's cheeks was precisely that, a flush of sudden embarrassment. It sure had nothing to do with the wine the Vulcan had drunk. "You want another?"
"No, thank you, Doctor." Spock's impatience was close to the surface, a sure sign he was more rattled than he wanted McCoy to know. "Do you recall what the 'Captain' wished to tell me?"
McCoy's eyes narrowed, unsure if he should take umbrage at the tone, or whether cooperation might milk more information out of Spock.. He settled for the latter option. "Uh-huh. He fixed up an appointment with Ryhanen for you to be examined. Don't get your hopes up but there's a slim chance that he may have something on the boil to help with your eyesight. We can cry off if you aren't up to it."
"Negative, Doctor McCoy." Spock was superficially in complete control once more. An eyebrow elevated in thought. "It will be an ideal opportunity to ask Ser Ryhanen a few more questions…"
"You think he knows more about this than he's letting on?"
"Undoubtedly."
McCoy gulped down the rest of his coffee. "Then what are we waiting for, Mr. Spock. C'mon let's not keep our host waiting…"
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