Apologies for the ridiculously long gap between updates. I have been many thousands of miles from my usual computer and bereft of regular internet access. Much of this was written on the move so hope it makes sense.
-oOo-
CHAPTER 18
"Damn it, Spock. I'm a doctor not a geologist. What the hell is Beryllium crystal?"
Vulcans do not sigh. Neither do they experience impatience. It is, however, inevitable that there should be some tension between the quite logical impulse to progress towards necessary action without undue delay and the need to convey the information required at a speed commensurate with the mental processing power of those who now stand in the Enterprise's transporter room and regard him in an expectant semi-circle.
His captain may be poisoned and paralysed in a subterranean chamber beyond the reach of the ship's sensors but his voice still whispers in a Vulcan ear - and it counsels that without an adequate briefing the odds of a successful rescue mission are considerably diminished.
Spock inhales what he hopes is an invisible deep breath and searches for the appropriate vocabulary for his audience.
"As I say, I cannot be certain. However, the initial geological surveys of Deneb III suggested large deposits of element beryl below the planet's surface and my own tricorder readings confirmed sulphur to be present in the planet's precipitation. It would only require time and the requisite pressure for beryllium crystal to be formed, in substantial quantities."
Captain Glover finishes attaching the phaser to her hip and raises her head.
"I am familiar with beryllium crystal, Commander. One of my previous supply runs included a safe deposit box containing several low grade examples. I remember querying the estimated value on the ship's manifest. They were worth more than the rest of my cargo put together."
Dr McCoy is incredulous. "So that's what you think all this was about? Good old fashioned greed. You think Rawlson was attempting to duplicate the crystals they found."
Spock shakes his head but before he can correct the doctor there's an even more emphatic negative from the figure in red who steps from behind the console.
"No. Duplicate crystals would be worthless," says the ship's chief engineer. "I'll bet he tried it and discovered that for himself."
The doctor remains stubborn. "What do you mean worthless? A rock's a damned rock, ain't it? And it's a hell of a lot less complicated to duplicate than a flesh and blood human being. Who's to know the difference?"
The man who has spent a substantial portion of the preceding four years becoming a galaxy expert on the devastating properties of a certain yellow ore from planet Alpha 177 takes a deep breath but before he can embark on an explanation he catches sight of the ship's First Officer who, via a barely perceptible lifting of the central portion of both eyebrows, is managing to convey the Vulcan equivalent of an imploring glance.
"They'd be cloudy," Scott says briefly. "The matrix wouldn't survive replication."
The captain of the Demeter is thoughtful. "And anyway, Commander, you reported evidence of extensive mining activity. That suggests they were after the real thing. It sounds as if they found it, and when everything went to hell Rawlson decided to jump ship, or rather board ship, with whatever he could get away with."
Spock regards the Captain of the Demeter with new found respect. "Indeed. Our difficulty is that we have been presented with a mixture of truth and fabrication. For example we know that Deneb III was indeed short on supplies-"
McCoy snorts. "No surprise there. And I'll bet those cretins in Material Supply Command are already busy trying to pass the buck."
With the ease of long practice Spock ignores both the interruption and the colourful injection of human idiom.
"- so it is possible the Commander was initially motivated, at least in part, by the need to replace dwindling stocks. In addition, the pattern of dispersion of the ore from Alpha 177 in and around the central warehouse supports his account of storm damage leading to accidental contamination of the transporter array."
"I heard the same story from the original colony team too," says Glover, remembering her own recent incarceration. "The ones who were in a fit state to talk anyway. But it sounds as if Rawlson was already losing it before the storm hit. He'd locked up half his senior staff on various trumped up charges." Her eyes darken. "Which, as it turned out, was lucky for them. At least they're in one piece." Silence then as the room remembers bodies stacked in an unlit warehouse, and the dead from the Demeter now lying in the Enterprise morgue.
Spock considers this new information. "Their incarceration may have been an attempt to remove those who were becoming suspicious about the exact nature of operations beneath the planet surface."
McCoy raises a finger. "Hang on a minute, Spock. You've lost me. What exactly was Rawlson up to with that ore from Alpha 177 if he wasn't replicating crystals? My money's on experimentation. The man's obviously got no morals to pull that stunt with Jim, and then with you."
Spock thinks back to the figure holding a phaser to the temple of a small boy, to a pendulum personality, and a picture on an office wall
"For years I've looked at that picture and wondered. And now I get the chance to meet him at last. Your mirror image. The less than perfect Captain Kirk."
And he ponders the odds of obsession, schizophrenia and science colliding with those particular Enterprise log entries from Alpha 177.
Enough. Morals and mental health can wait for quiet evenings over a chess game that currently stands unfinished in the captain's quarters.
Spock folds his hands behind his back and straightens against an ache whose origins he prefers to leave unexamined.
"It is my hypothesis that the Commander was using the ore to duplicate the materials and equipment he required to undertake undocumented mining operations for personal gain and had recruited some of the less scrupulous members of his team to that end."
Captain Glover nods to the security chief waiting patiently with his team and takes the few steps required to mount the transporter platform.
"Right, gentlemen. If we're finished with the geology lesson it's time to move."
She hesitates. Strictly speaking it's the ship's First Officer who's now in charge of the Fleet's flagship but Spock's thoughts are far from the niceties of Starfleet command structures. Now the moment has come he finds himself regarding the transporter platform with a renewed appreciation of its function which he must conclude is the result of his recent experience within the pattern buffers. As he hesitates, the whisper is back.
"Come on, Spock..."
The memory arises unbidden.
A sparkle in hazel eyes, and a rueful grin from the man who lies sprawling in the snow at his feet having narrowly escaped departing hooves. The Andorian quadruped now huffs steam from a wary distance having demonstrated exactly what it thinks of playing vehicle to a human passenger. As Spock extends a hand his immediate anxiety for the integrity of his captain's bone structure is overwhelmed by a warm grip, which communicates both unwarranted delight and an alarming intention to repeat the experience.
"Sir, might I suggest we take advantage of our host's original suggestion and avail ourselves of the waiting aircar to proceed to our destination."
An aircar which has the additional advantage of an integrated heating system, he adds silently, suppressing a shiver. But the captain is already on his feet and moving in altogether the wrong direction, one hand feeding the other a length of rope which is all that's been provided as both restraining device and halter. "You've got to get back on the horse, Spock."
Spock eyes the quadruped with suspicion."The animal in question is not a horse, sir. It is a Zabathu which appears to have an acutely sensitive sense of smell and is therefore reluctant to accept you as a rider. I question the logic of re-attempting -"
But the captain is shaking his head. "You've got to get back on the horse that threw you," he says patiently, as if this is in fact an explanation for his current conduct. "My grandfather taught me that when I was seven."
Spock tries and fails to understand why a family member would advocate repeating a pattern of behaviour which, on the balance of probabilities, seems likely to result in a loss of dignity at best and severe injury at worst.
He opens his mouth to expose this obvious flaw in received ancestral wisdom but his captain is ahead of him in both thought and physical space.
"It's not about logic, Spock," he throws over his shoulder. "It's about fear. You leave it too long, and all you can remember is the fall. Before you know it you've given up riding for good. Hah!"
This last expletive is one of triumph as the rope is successfully looped around the neck of the reluctant steed. With a jump and a swing of the hips he's astride and this time the mount seems less inclined to rid himself of his cargo. "The trick is to avoid the unexpected," Kirk declares from a height, silhouetted against ice and sun. "This time he knew what I was going to do." He grins, "And maybe he's getting used to the smell. Come on, Spock."
"Get back on the horse," he murmurs. The power of expectation.
Captain Glover looks startled. "I'm sorry, Mr Spock... what did you say?"
Spock slowly raises his eyes from the transporter platform and turns his head to address the assembled team.
"Captain. With your permission I would like to make an amendment to our proposed strategy."
-oOo-
Your thoughts, kind readers?
