Ghost In The Machine

Chapter 21:

There are hills and mountains between us.

Always something to get over.

You can windsurf into my life

Take me up on a carpet ride

But you'd better make it soon.

A low-slung black limousine sat purring on its ramp as they exited from the hotel, a statuesque Dha'kaht'chun woman lounging against the door, waiting to hand it over. She grinned down at McCoy as he gazed up, uttering a friendly greeting.

"Meer'tchal, ser Doktuur Makhqoi. Commanduur Spokhq."

Deftly, she helped Spock climb into the rear of the aircar, tucked a throw about his legs and secured the safety webbing about him before re-fastening the canopy. He settled back into the luxurious comfort with eyes closed, conserving his strength. Half listening to the murmur of voices that penetrated the streamlined metal shell, he heard enough to realise that a conflict of some sort had arisen between McCoy and their chauffeur. A moment later, he snapped out of a light doze as the forward canopy opened and McCoy, grumbling under his breath, slid into the front seat.

"Doctor McCoy?" He queried wearily. "What is the delay?"

"Nothing that concerns you, Spock. Try and get some rest."

Spock heard McCoy fumble with the limousine's controls, all the while expressing a miscellany of profane language that would have made a dockhand blush. "Do you intend piloting this vehicle?"

"That's the idea, Spock. Unless you want the job."

Spock digested the comment for an instant. "What of the young woman? I assumed she …"

"Well, you assumed wrong. She's Dha'ka, Spock. It appears that the same ethnic limitations apply to all Dha'ka where those dream spiders are concerned. As soon as I mentioned where we wanted to go, she very politely declined to take us."

Spock shifted uneasily. "I do not wish to disparage your flying abilities in any way, Doctor McCoy. However, if that is the case, I suggest the more prudent course would be to engage the automatic control system."

Affronted, McCoy shot back, "I'll have you know, Mr Spock, that in my younger days I used to be considered something of an aficionado in the hotrod department…"

"Indeed? May I ask how much younger, Doctor?"

"Just trust me, Spock, okay. After all how hard can it be to …." The rest of the sentence cut off as he finished keying in the lift sequence codes and the limousine abruptly shot fifty feet straight up into the air.

"Whoa." McCoy yelled in surprise. Fortunately, as soon as he took his fingers off the touch pad the vehicle came to a halt, wallowing in mid-air on its anti-gravs. He glanced over his shoulder at Spock. The First Officer sat forward, his lean body taut against the seat restraint, his complexion the colour of old putty, hanging onto the grab handles for dear life. The knuckles of his fingers had turned yellow, the skin stretched across the bone with the tightness of his grip.

"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you, Spock. I definitely have the hang of it now."

"That is … welcome news, Doctor McCoy." Spock's adam's apple descended as he swallowed unobtrusively but his hold on the grab handle slackened only minimally. He sat back in his seat, expression still severe. "There … is a clearing in the forest. Tel Shimaan has her lair in the ruined tower there. It should not be too difficult to find."

"Uh-huh." McCoy saw it in his minds eye, the hair on his nape rising at the thought of actually going there. "Is that where Jim's being held?"

"Correct."

"I suppose you've got the coordinates for the auto-pilot."

"Indeed." Spock stated them clearly, listening as McCoy laboriously keyed them into the flight log. However, instead of continuing smoothly as Spock had anticipated, the limousine dropped in free fall, only to bank sharply as the engine re-engaged.

"Hey," McCoy, surprised that he was actually enjoying himself crowed in unconstrained joy. "This is one souped up jalopy."

"Doctor, perhaps in your enthusiasm you have failed to notice … but this is a mountainous area. Care is essential." Still alarmed, Spock speedily poured cold water over McCoy's elation as the thrust drove them both back into the seat cushions. "I would deem it a kindness if you changed to the automatic control system without delay."

"All right, all right. No need to make a big deal out of it, Spock." McCoy murmured biting his lip. He accelerated sharply, the imp still driving him. "I'm not gonna get us killed, okay? I know what I'm doing."

"Really, Doctor?" Spock did not sound at all convinced.

"Yeah, really. Just have a little faith."

"Doctor McCoy, please enlighten me as to why I should want to place any confidence in someone lacking the slightest knowledge of a principle with no substantiation, about things without parallel?"

McCoy, knew he had just been insulted but could not spare the time to work out exactly how as he struggled with the controls. He fell back as usual on invective. "Nag, nag, nag. Give up on the back seat driving, will you, Spock? Think yourself damned lucky you're getting a free ride and don't have to walk down this mountain."

But, having had his fun, he slowed the limousine to cruising speed, and activated the autopilot before turning again to stare at the silent and now very shell-shocked Vulcan. "E.T.A's twenty minutes. As your doctor, I suggest you try to get some sleep. I'll wake you when we get to the tower …"

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