Carnival

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Chapter Six

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Smoke and Mirrors

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Spock didn't need to turn around to know who was standing at the doorway to the bedroom. T'Lai's distinct tread and subtle scent engaged his senses, and in response he swung his arm around to point the phaser at her head. There wasn't a moment's hesitation throughout the entire action. The Vulcan woman took several delicate steps forward as she spoke. Her tone was almost coaxing despite the weapon pointed at her head, "He may not be beyond saving. Emotional wounds can heal over t-"

"That does little to sway my opinion of you… or your master for her hand in this." Spock interrupted darkly. His voice was spitting hate with every syllable, and it disgusted him to hear it. He refused to make eye contact with T'Lai, affirming that all conversational formalities were suspended in the wake of Doctor McCoy's psychological assault. There was an immense shame that seemed to coil within Spock for being upset by the state his friend. He couldn't afford to reveal it, especially to another Vulcan, until it subsided.

"What is your purpose here? I warn you now, if you advance beyond a five foot radius of the Doctor, I will not hesitate to stun you."

The words made T'Lai stop and crouch down so that she was level with Spock's back. "You really are emotionally compromised… I did not think it possible." Her voice became more curious as she continued. Her hand reached out to try and touch Spock's shoulder. "Logically it must be the human portion of you screaming out in pro-"

Spock cut T'Lai's statement by stunning her full in the face the moment her fingertips brushed his uniform. The sound of her hitting the floor soothed some of the irritation Spock felt at the situation. He told himself it was because she violated the boundaries he contracted, and not because of his uncontrolled desire for revenge. In truth it was probably the woman's words that were starting to bring out the worst in him.

There was a subtle shake in his outstretched arm and the smell of phaser fire did nothing to help it. Spock dropped the weapon as if burned, then turned back to the body still slumped in his lap. The peace and quiet did not last.

Laughter echoed around the Haunted House and the voice of Zira returned to Spock's ear.

"You're so fascinating Mr. Spock."

From the corner of his eye, Spock could see that the illusions were creeping back into place. They were different from the horrors manufactured for the doctor's detriment – darker, more sinister. The walls of the room oozed a black fluid that smelt strongly of tar; it pooled as it hit the ground and began to blossom towards its new victims. To Spock's discomfort, there was another level of sophistication in these horrors that weren't present in the features of the Haunted House. He could feel the evil in the approaching darkness - the hunger of its mind.

"You have no idea how refreshing you are… compared to the simplicity of your friends."

The Vulcan rose to his feet, the action fluid and masking the sense of panic clawing its way into his thoughts. He pulled McCoy with him, knowing full well that if he had to run the probability of them both surviving would be reduced. The calculations were disregarded because if Jim were here, facts and figures would have no bearing… and that sort of spirit is what the Vulcan needed presently.

Spock closed his eyes and willed himself to focus. The steady breath of the doctor over his shoulder gave the Vulcan something to concentrate with. He could ignore all other audible stimuli and navigate based on his memory alone. Zira's conjured images couldn't reach him if he fine tuned his senses on the things he knew were real from his earlier trek through the house. Blind and selectively deaf, Spock navigated to the doorway and down the hall. Stumbling slightly, he managed to make it down the stairs and back to the living room; but, the physical properties of the house started to change making further progress impossible. His flawless memory was either tampered with, or the house itself was - Spock could not be certain.

To get his bearings, Spock needed to open his eyes. When he did so, he quickly concluded that he wasn't in the Haunted House anymore.

Instead of the horrific props, Spock was greeted with a room full of glittering mirrors. Everywhere he looked there was another Spock staring back at him. Almost desperately, the Vulcan looked behind him to find there was no longer a set of stairs, just more mirrors. This did not bode well for him.

Spock was unnerved; this place was overwhelming his perception. Every move he made was amplified a thousand times over by his two dimensional clones. To counter this, the Vulcan stood very still. Only his eyes shifted while he appraised his new surroundings with apprehension.

All the glass was angled so that Spock couldn't properly discern which spaces provided an exit and which were only reflections. He hypothesized a possible method of navigation by touch, but when he went to implement it, his hand fell through his reflection. Spock realized this was an additional holographic component to the maze, which did not increase his chances of escape. There were scores of possible routes he could take. Would any of them lead to a proper exit?

He would have to try.

Floating above the mirrors was Zira. She sat cross-legged while levitating, and had a smile that seemed to bisect her painted face. Spock had the notion she was like a scientist watching a rat's progress in an experiment. He also speculated that her presence was yet another illusion - he could not prove his theory since he left his phaser in the other room.

"Mr. Spock, welcome to my Hall of Mirrors."

He raised an eyebrow at her greeting. "Thank-you. Where is the exit?"

"Humor Commander? I didn't think you had it in you."

Spock kept his eyebrow where he left it. "So others continue to say, and yet, all that I am… I possess indefinitely. Therefore, I do not understand the merit to your statement. " His voice was his usual even tone now that his anger was replaced with a sense of survivability that was easier to manage.

Zira found his mask of impassiveness frustrating. "You will understand me Mr. Spock; I have no doubt about that. The things we will learn about one another in the hours to come will be extensive, to say the least."

The thousands of Spocks seemed to ripple and change even though the real Spock was hesitant to move a muscle. Some turned into crewmembers of the Enterprise, some turned into family members, some turned into friends and some remained as they were with only minor differences. One Spock was laughing jovially at something a Kirk in the next pane had mimed; another was on his knees clawing at the surface of the mirror in misery. There was one Spock in the throes of ecstasy that made the true Vulcan squirm. Hastily, he tore his eyes away from the image and looked up to Zira. The anxiety in his eyes was very hard to hide.

"Madame Zira, I fail to find reason in these games of yours. You have harmed the senior medical officer of the Enterprise and I can only speculate that you mean to do the same to me. What is your purpose?"

His voice was fluctuating between smooth passiveness and unsteady concern. It was obvious Spock was finding conversation difficult when all around him familiar faces were provoking his clones into expressing all sorts of extreme emotion. He felt sick at every glance he hazarded to make, and he noticed Zira's grin become wider by the moment. She knew how much this would irritate a Vulcan.

Spock stared at his feet in order to formulate a plan. Perhaps if he could keep her talking she might expose a weakness he could manipulate; she seemed arrogant enough to explain her plans. Monologues favored the dramatic - and she was that and a villain to boot. If he prompted her, would she follow his lead?

"You have the appearance of a Betazoid and possess powers that could be likened to their natural abilities. If I assume your race is as I speculated, then your telepathic abilities are above Betazed's standards; in view of that and my previous assumption, does this superiority extend to your empathetic capabilities?" Spock knitted his eyebrows together before meeting Zira's oil-black eyes. He saw some confusion there and reiterated. "What I mean to say is - Do you gain pleasure from experiencing the fear of others?"

Zira tilted her head at an impossible angle. "Clever Vulcan, you are right in one area. I am from Betazed." She stretched her legs and drifted down so that she was floating eye level with Spock. Her reflection did not appear on any of the mirrors - much to Spock's interest. "Yet I am an outcast. Fitting nowhere… judged based upon things that I could not change. I suppose that sounds a little like you Mr. Spock."

The Spocks in the mirrors became more frenzied. The range of expressions he saw flit across his clones' faces made the real Spock look away; but everywhere he pointed his eyes, there were the same eyes meeting him. They were filled with hate, adoration, greed, lust, worry, wrath, joy... pure emotion, and it made him cringe. He couldn't take his eyes off of himself; it was like watching a shipwreck over and over and over again…

"Half-human." Zira said in a hiss. "You feel that part of you and you overcompensate. You fail at hiding your humanity and you know it."

Her words shouldn't have hurt so much; others have told him similar statements in the past and he shook them off like water. Why was there a part of his psych that suddenly felt violated? None of this was real. She was using the anger he felt at McCoy's condition and trying to expose it. If he didn't reign himself in, he'd be like his mirror counterpart screaming in fury.

He needed to distract himself. He needed to keep her talking. He needed to get out of there…

"I do not understand your earlier comparison. How am I like you? I doubt you are a half-breed. You have far too much power." His voice was strained. Spock could hear himself laughing. Laughing…

Zira took his bait. "I was not like the others. A small percentage of my race is born with superior telepathic abilities. They struggle to block out the thoughts and minds of everyone around them. They are feared and hated for knowing too much." Her voice took on a bitter tone and her black eyes glazed over as if remembering the distant past. "I would have given anything to be one of those outsiders, rather then what I was."

During her tirade, Spock noticed that there were no new developments regarding her illusions. He could concentrate while she was speaking, for she was too focused on revealing her life story to keep him occupied. He used it to regain his composure.

"I was born with the inability to conceal my thoughts - the opposite struggle of my talented peers. It was more difficult for me to handle. I was alone. Every Betazoid in my proximity knew my deepest desires, my most precious secrets." Her fists tightened and she continued, "Imagine not being able to with withhold your most carnal yearnings from everyone close enough to touch."

Spock's brow furrowed, "That is indeed a frightening thought. No one could withstand a being that broadcasts every negative aspect they try to hide." He looked up to the woman with curiosity. "You would also be a liability. Anything you retain in your memory would be instantly expelled into strangers until you learned to control yourself."

"I did. But by that time I was already a monster. They exiled me. I was young, I was afraid. It took years, but I found people who could stand me long enough to take me to someone who could train me. Do not be mistaken, it wasn't out of kindness. In the end I killed them because of what I could see in their souls. I developed my powers on my own after that; turned my curse into something to be feared. I could peer into the hearts of the masses and project their deepest desires right back into their minds. I built this park. I attracted many. I make them feel my fear."

"I assure you, fear is something not easily felt by a Vulcan." Spock didn't know why he said it. It was a challenge that he would regret in the future.

"You are half-Vulcan Spock. You cannot hide your insecurities from me." Zira dropped to the ground with a subtle thud before the Spock reflections shimmered into what they were supposed to be – mere images of the Vulcan before them.

"I've noticed you try to avoid my projections by closing your pretty brown eyes Mr. Spock. Now that our discussion is at an end, I think I'll show you what I'm really capable of." She snapped her fingers and from the depths of the maze came Captain Kirk – a false Kirk from what Spock could tell. The Vulcan took a step back and set the doctor down on the floor, anticipating action.

"I assume that this illusion is physical in nature and will now attempt to engage me in combat?"

Zira grimaced, "You know… I thought you'd be more entertaining, but I'm just finding you and your small talk aggravating."

"I'll take your sentiments as flattery."

"You would." She gestured forward with an air of finality and Kirk charged.

Spock dashed to the right, afraid that the man might be able to overpower him and perhaps crush the doctor in the endeavor. The move made him open to Kirk on that side, and the clone took the opportunity presented to body check the Vulcan into a mirror. It fractured under the pressure in a neat web-like pattern. Spock was shocked at the pain. This illusion was very much like the real James. T. Kirk in so far as the man knew where to strike to get the desired effect - as much pain as possible.

Yet Spock was stronger, and he easy threw the captain off of him while earning some distance between them. They began to circle each other like animals. Kirk's eyes blazed like fire while Spock's cold and calculative gaze assessed the situation and came to only one conclusion.

They stopped moving momentarily before leaping at one another with their hands outstretched. Kirk punched Spock in the jaw while the Vulcan countered with a nerve pinch.

The clone went down like a sack of potatoes and Spock rubbed his lower cheek tenderly. With haste he crept up to his fallen opponent and looked him over to make sure that he wasn't going to be getting up any time soon. He wasn't. There was something about the easiness of the fight which bothered the Vulcan and he looked to where Zira was standing earlier. He expected to find her infuriated that her champion had been thwarted; instead, she was gone.

That was when a sense of dread chilled Spock's blood and he twisted around to locate where he left the doctor.

Standing next McCoy, with a long laser rifle pressed against his forehead, was Madame Zira. Her red lipped smile radiated smugness and her eyes took in the terror that flooded Spock's system. She relished the new found control she had over the Vulcan.

"My illusions would never be very effective against a Vulcan. We both knew that Mr. Spock. I could make you uncomfortable… but scared? No. Not entirely." The rifle hummed to life as her fingers set the energy level of her next blast. Spock noted it was enough to not only kill McCoy, but make him a grave at the same time.

"For that I'd need a piece of reality… something you knew wasn't just in your head." She nudged the sleeping doctor with her heeled foot. "And you let me at it you silly Vulcan!"

Spock's brain was trying to come up with a way of saving McCoy, but with her rifle to McCoy's head he couldn't move for fear she'd kill him.

"You have me sufficiently frightened Zira." It was no lie. "To my knowledge you haven't murdered anyone yet, if you keep your violations to only psychological harm, then your punishment will be less severe. Remove the weapon from Dr. McCoy's head."

"Are you pleading Spock?" Her fingers wound around the trigger and Spock's eyes widened.

Zira smiled as she absorbed the emotions radiating from her victim. She was high on the Vulcan's intense feelings and hungry for more. Spock suddenly knew she was going to drag out this for as long as she could.

"I'll make you a deal. I won't pull the trigger for two whole minutes, and if you can wrest this rifle from my hands before the time is up, Dr. Leonard McCoy will live."

Immediately Spock went to rush towards the woman, but he ran straight into a mirror. Flat on his back and momentarily confused, he shook off the impact and turned around to assess Zira's true location. Her figure was in every pane, shown in a plethora of angles. The Vulcan ran along the walls, his hands streaking across the metal to avoid another collision. He slipped into the gaps that led down other halls, but he couldn't tell if he was getting closer or further away. The only plan he had was to cover as much ground as possible. Spock was quickly frustrated.

"There's no logic to this…" He mumbled to himself; his voice was shaking even in self directed whispers. The Vulcan rotated on the spot in an attempt to find a corridor he hadn't explored yet, but there was nothing wholly unfamiliar to his eyes. Time was running out. The image of Zira was still standing over the Doctor, her finger applying more pressure to the trigger by the second.

Spock broke out into a run - now no longer concerned if he ran into a mirror or not. As the seconds ticked away he began to turn his sprints into charges which shattered the glass he happened to run into. The results made the area less disorientating for there were fewer angles to negotiate with. He began to punch and kick any vertical surface he could find. It didn't matter that with every strike there came an emotional upheaval that would shame his people – he was getting closer and that was all he wanted. The shards bit into his skin, but still Spock didn't care; every destroyed mirror was one less Zira pointing a gun at his friend.

"Time has run out Spock."

"No…" The Vulcan called out as he pushed himself through a broken pane and into an area littered with glittering fragments of glass. In the center of it stood the true villain and victim, poised to kill and be killed. He was seconds away.

The moment slowed down as Spock locked onto Zira's eyes. There was triumph written all over her, the kill was when she'd get her climax. Spock was filled with absolute fear as the sound of the blast powering up met his sensitive ears. He bolted into a loping charge to try and knock the gun away, but the laser shot true before his first foot fall fell.

McCoy shivered as the energy overrode his brain and snuffed the life out of every cell in his body. The ground absorbed the leftover energy and sent slivers of discarded glass into the air for a few seconds. They glittered to the floor again in absolute silence as Spock absorbed the magnitude of what just happened.

His eyes glazed over and something deep within him snapped. The Vulcan howled and leapt at Zira's throat. Ancient primal urges that his people had buried for centuries suddenly burst forth from his mouth in a shout of rage that could make a Kling-on's death rattle sound like a lullaby.

Zira's eyes widened as the Vulcan's hands enveloped her neck and the force of his body hitting hers sent them both to the floor. They hit hard, but Zira took most the damage as her back picked up pieces of glass littering the ground; they grated her skin like cheese. She choked pitifully as Spock crushed her windpipe and drove her head into the ground. It only took her seconds to die from the strength of his alien grip.

"Oh Spock… how could you do this to me…?"

The words in his ear chilled his blood. They were said through a sweet, but unseen smile. Spock sensed that something had gone tremendously wrong; but before he could evaluate, the familiar feeling of something being peeled from his vision returned and Zira's illusions fell away. Before him was not the mangled body of Madame Zira - it was T'Lai.

He had killed a fellow Vulcan.

Spock stared at his bleeding hands, then to the woman he just murdered. He was filled with so much hate and disgust… so much negativity towards himself and others. McCoy was dead... and he had killed one of his kin unintentionally. Spock grabbed his face and tried to calm himself, but every time he retreated into his mind he found a monster there… waiting.

In his breakdown he failed to hear the soft tread of heeled shoes approaching from behind. If he had, he could have probably stopped the real Zira from setting a hand upon his head and warping his thoughts into visions of nothingness.

Author's Notes:

I am SHOCKED at the amount of reviews I suddenly accumulated. All of you make me feel extremely appreciated, so I thank you from the bottom of my sinister heart. I hope you enjoyed this latest chapter. It's a little late since it was Canada Day and my friend's birthday the day after... so I haven't been sober in 48 hours. I'm also in a competition to see who can be a vegetarian the longest. My boyfriend and I were arguing who had the most willpower and he brought up that he could go without meat indefinitely since Paul McCartney is a vegetarian; I countered that Vulcans were vegetarian. So using our respective heros we could test whose willpower (and fandom) was stronger.

I think this ordeal would be easier with a replicator.

Also, I'm surprised at how many people correctly guessed the Hall of Mirrors! It made sense in my brain, so I was glad it did in others as well. I don't think I used that feature to it's utmost potential. The next horror is going to be Kirk's of course. Every time I think about it I smirk. It's also very predictable... and amusing. Guess if you dare!