Scotty stood in the transporter room, patiently awaiting the signal that the Miasman leader was ready to be beamed up. He sighed and looked at the console, thinking of how much he had to do that day. Benson, the regular transporter tech, had been called away to help some junior crewmen clean the pads in transporter room 3.
Scott couldn't help but feel honored that the Captain trusted him so implicitly with the safety of guests. But at the same time he felt that, as Chief Engineer, he should be free to do his job, and that there were dozens of well-qualified crewmen who could oversee such a simple operation. He sighed again and tapped the console, as though by tapping it he could make the signal come through faster.
The door slid open and McCoy stepped in. "Good afternoon, Scotty."
"Good afternoon, Doctor, and how is the day finding ye?"
McCoy could help but be relieved at finally talking to someone who didn't try to hide snickers and laughter. "It's finding me well, Scotty, thank you."
"An' I'd like to say that I find it most unprofessional that the crewmen are still talking about the little incident with the turbolift. As much as they're laughin', it could have just as easily happened to any o' them," Scott nodded patronizingly.
"Thank you, Mister Scott," McCoy tried to close the subject.
"And quite frankly, for all their complainin', they all needed the exercise." Scott finished with a smile.
To McCoy's relief, the panel flashed and Uhura spoke over the comm. "Mistress Daddono is signaling, she is ready to beam up."
"Aye, beaming her up now," Scott acknowledged, and began pressing the sliders down.
A short figure began to appear in a gold mist, materializing into a raggedly dressed woman. McCoy and Scott glanced at each other, and then McCoy stepped forward. "Good afternoon, Mistress Daddono. Welcome aboard the Enterprise. I am Leonard McCoy, the ship's Chief Medical Officer."
She smiled and extended a hand, which appeared a little dirty. "I thank you, Doctor." She stepped off the platform and glanced around briefly.
"We will be meeting down the hall with the Prime Minister. There are refreshments available there as well."
"Indeed," she said vaguely, a little wistfully, and tendrils of her dress dragged the floor. They were brown with dirt, and it appeared that she had been dragging them for quite some time. Her hair was ragged as well, with strands of once brightly colored ribbon.
Scott did his best not to stare, and fiddled with the console.
Mistress Daddono lilted her body left and right, waving her arms and humming a wavering tune.
McCoy cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Shall we head down to the conference room?"
"Lead me, lead me, Doctor McCoy," she lilted her voice and cocked her head. She extended her arm for McCoy to take it.
McCoy did his best to smile and took her arm graciously, and she swished and hummed out of the transporter room.
They walked down the hall; McCoy doing his best to appear gentlemanly, and Mistress Daddono humming absently. Her eyes closed from time to time, as though she were fully confident that McCoy would not lead her into a bulkhead.
To get to the briefing room where they were meeting with the Prime Minister and Captain Kirk, they had to pass the Lab where the mystery substance was still sitting, being observed and studied. McCoy's palms began to sweat a little at the thought of explaining the situation to someone who seemed so flighty, and he began to walk a little faster.
Mistress Daddono, however, danced a little slower to her internal music, and held McCoy back. "Doctooorrrr," she crooned. "What is that amazing incense in that room?" she wavered, paused and pointed to the lab.
The doors opened and closed, and through them the black lump, seven feet high and eight feet around, sat unperturbed by the men in lab coats who were determined to figure it out.
Mistress Daddono's eyes widened at the glimpses of it. "Oooohhhhh," she breathed heavily, her skirts straining at the waist. "She's amazing, simply beautiful! What do you call her?"
McCoy stifled a laugh. "Her? That?" he pointed incredulously.
"Why do you hold her prisoner?" Daddono took a tentative step towards the pressurized seal of the room.
"It's not a prisoner," McCoy touched her shoulder, to try and bring her back. "It's," he paused. "It's something, but it's not a prisoner. We have to get to the Prime Minister."
Daddono then did something that no one expected. Without warning and without a sound, she broke for the room. She ignored the warnings being screeched by the computer, and ran past the pressurized doors. The computer, in its infinite wisdom, destroyed the pressurization and allowed a cascade of free nitrogen into the room.
Spock had determined that a lack of nitrogen would slow the thing's growth, and he was right. What he hadn't counted on was that a lack of nitrogen would only slow its growth, and not stop its inclination to grow. The blob had twelve hours of growth to catch up on, and suddenly had the nitrogen available to do it.
With a sound that could only be likened to localized thunder, the blob expanded sevenfold in seconds. The lab was filled, and the bulkheads creaked and groaned under the weight and pressure of the sudden mass. Technicians coughed and sputtered, and were sent running down the halls as the smell of hot caramel shot through the deck. McCoy was left standing, gaping, in the hallway, and Daddono, amazingly, was still crooning and smiling, her face and left arm being the only parts of her left visible after the blob had consumed her.