CHAPTER 5

As the doors to his quarters closed, Kirk swiveled in the chair and hit the switch that activated his computer. With nimble fingers, he punched in the code that would allow him access to the security cameras throughout the Enterprise.

Kirk flicked through the decks until his friend's lanky figure appeared and watched as McCoy shuffled into the turbo-lift and slumped against the wall, barely clinging to the lift operator for the short ride.

McCoy's ability to empathize with others, and to display it without a hint of reservation or shame, was one of the qualities Kirk admired most about his friend. It was also what worried him the most since McCoy was most affected by the horrors they sometimes witnessed on their five-year mission.

But there was something more going on, another tension running just beneath the surface. If Kirk had been forced to put a name to it, he would have, oddly enough, chosen the word "grief." Yet there had been no communiqués from Star Fleet for the doctor, and surely McCoy would have told him if something had happened to Mrs. McCoy. Bones' mother was a delight for Kirk, a mixture of southern politeness and sharp wit, and he always looked forward to their lively debates whenever he spent time on the McCoy estate in Georgia.

No, the tension had to be something else, Kirk reasoned, switching the camera so that he caught the turbo-lift doors opening. Lighting renovations were being conducted on that deck but at the moment, the corridor was empty of crewmembers. The uneven lighting cast a long, solitary shadow in front of McCoy as he walked to his quarters.

Only after McCoy disappeared safely behind his own doors did Kirk switch the monitor off. The worry for his friend didn't fade with the image. There had always been an air of sadness that seemed to linger around McCoy, but he had assumed it came from being in the medical field. It would be a cold person indeed, or a liar, who claimed that the job had no ill-effects.

But what else could it be? He hadn't needed to see the ripples in his friend's glass to know that McCoy's emotions were strung taunt. And it had been all too obvious that the doctor hadn't wanted to talk about them, either. Still concerned, Kirk stood and pulled his gold command shirt over his head. He tossed it in the vacant chair and sprawled across the bunk without removing his pants.

I'll take him to the trading post on Star Base Nine, he thought sleepily. It was common knowledge McCoy couldn't hold his Romulan ale, two glasses and Kirk would have the whole story. Feeling somewhat satisfied now that he had a plan, he drifted off to sleep.

Although he would not remember them in the morning, his dreams were haunted by solitary shadows, darkened ships, and forgotten girls.

"Good morning, Captain."

Yeoman Janice Rand didn't wait for a response as she placed a large cup of black coffee, a buttered croissant, and several datapads onto the captain's desk. "Dr. M'Benga's update on the Starpox vaccine, Chief Scott's findings on the cryo-unit, Commander Spock's notes on said unit, and a request from Lieutenant Uhura to speak with you regarding the log tapes taken from the . . . Gyrating Ginny." She ended the list with a small sniff.

A small, efficient sniff, Kirk thought as he slid behind his desk, throwing the soiled command shirt from the night before on the shelf behind him. His beautiful Yeoman glanced disapprovingly at it, and Kirk hid a smile by quickly biting into the croissant.

"And news of our guest in security?" He asked around the mouthful of pastry, quickly scanning several of the datapads.

"Awake and belligerent," Rand said, pursing her lips. Within hours, the entire ship had become aware of the woman in Sick Bay, and how she had come to be there. Blowing Mudd out of an airlock had gained popularity among the crew but beaming him in front of an oncoming asteroid was a close second. "He's been demanding to see you since 0600."

"Good," Kirk said, signing off on several datapads. "I want to see him, too."

Yeoman Rand left the captain's quarters and took a right toward her office. If any crewmember had happened to look at her as they passed, they would have been startled by the small, predator-like smile on her face.

From the way her captain had said "I want to see him, too," Rand had little doubt as to what kind of morning the man in the brig was going to have.

Two hours later . . .

Sweat poured down Harry Mudd's temples, dampening his already flushed cheeks. He had been permitted a sonic shower and given a nondescript worker's uniform to wear, but his appearance remained somewhat disheveled and greasy-looking. Or perhaps it was just Kirk's opinion of the man that made him appear so.

"Jim, my old friend—listen to me," Harry whined, holding out fleshy hands in a supplicating gesture. "It's not like that at all. You've got it all wrong, my boy!"

"I do?" Kirk asked, feigning surprise as he took the seat across from Mudd. He pushed the chair back a foot away from the conference table and crossed his legs. "Then enlighten me, Harry."

"W-well, it's not at all—not at all—like you think," Mudd sputtered, fumbling now that he'd been given the chance to speak. "I'm no longer in the business of wiving settlers. Huh! Women! Why, it'd be easier to herd Beskin were-cats." He let out a strained chuckle.

Kirk nodded agreeably. "So you're putting them in stasis now. I can see how that would make selling them much easier."

"Yes—no!" Mudd corrected himself quickly, eyes bulging with desperation. "Look, I didn't put that woman in stasis. I swear it. I found her like that."

"Where did you find her?"

"I don't know!" Mudd held up his hands before Kirk could interrupt him. "Wait—wait! Let me start from the beginning, and you'll see that I'm an innocent man!"

Kirk narrowed his eyes. Of all the words that could have been used to describe Harry Mudd, innocent didn't even make the list. "You've got two minutes, Harry, and then I'm getting up from this chair and those two guards are going to drag your sorry ass back to the brig. Got it?"

"Y-yes! Thank you, yes!" Mudd wiped his face off on a sleeve, took a deep breath, and then began to speak. "After you abandoned me on planet Mudd, I cobbled a distress beacon together out of the deactivated Norman android. Eventually I got a response from a geological mapping ship which had one more region to document before returning to Avos IV. I certainly wasn't going to complain about the detour; I was overjoyed just to be free of all those horrible, nagging copies of my wife, Stella. Truly, Jim, you're actions were beyond cruel in leaving me"— Mudd glanced at Kirk's face and quickly skipped back to his story.

"So I journeyed forth with the captain—Morallis was her name; a pretty lady but not good wiving material—to a section of space with several unmapped planets. One of the planets proved interesting for it contained a structure. But since Morallis was only interested in topographical mapping, and there were no life readings, she decided against beaming down. But I . . ." Mudd's expression became a bit sheepish. "Well, I was bored, Jim. Mapping is a tedious profession at best, and I thought a little exploration of an abandoned settlement might prove . . . interesting."

"I think the word you're looking for is 'profitable,'" Kirk interrupted.

A greedy look flashed across Mudd's face. "That, too."

"Get on with it, Harry. Your time's half up."

"Well, while Morallis was making data entries, I transported down to the settlement which turned out to be a single large structure. Very disappointing but then I thought, who would have the means to build such a place but an eccentric rich person? But alas, all I found was a moldy old lab with boring glass tubes and such. By sheer accident, I activated a computer and found a video message. This unfriendly looking chap appeared on the screen—no, I didn't catch his name—started going on and on about the box that was sitting in another room. He said that it was a "valuable weapon" and "priceless." So I said to myself, 'Harry, you can't just leave weapons lying about, it'd be irresponsible!'"

"So you took it back to the ship," Kirk finished knowingly. "And you still claim that you have no idea where this planet is located?"

"'Fraid not," Mudd replied morosely. "When Morallis was using the head I wrote the coordinates down and then deleted her files for safe keeping. Unfortunately, I seemed to have lost them while having a celebratory drink or five at the bar on Avos IV."

"How did you know there was a woman inside?"

"The identification plate on the lid."

"The nameplate with the markings AGEE 1-17 on it?" Kirk asked.

"That's the one. It slides up when you press on it. There's a small viewport." Mudd's lips flattened briefly. "Can you just imagine my disappointment? A woman! Just when I'd given up wiving, too! But the man on the screen had claimed she was a priceless weapon of some kind. Such a little thing she was that it was an obvious hoax or delusion on the man's part. But I'd already contacted the Ferangi who, in turn, had set up the deal with the Romulans. My only option was to sally forth and make the best of it." He let out a great, self-pitying sigh. Then, in the next moment, his face split into a grin and he smacked his hands together.

"So you see, Jimmy? I'm innocent of any kidnapping charges! Oh, perhaps I took some minor liberty in regard to abandoned property rights—"

"Property rights?" Kirk bellowed, standing up so fast the chair tipped over. "Property rights? The woman in my ship's Sick Bay is not property, Harry! As for her being a weapon, did you ever consider that she was a biological weapon?"

The color drained from Mudd's face. "I swear, Jim, I had no idea . . ."

Kirk watched the larger man squirm, refraining from telling him that the unconscious woman was contagion-free. The sweat had begun to pour down Mudd's face in rivulets. Jabbing a finger at Mudd, Kirk said, "You're a self-serving piece of shit, Harry. So let me tell you about how I'm going to 'sally forth' in this situation: I'm going to file charges for sentient-being trafficking with the intent to traffic in weapons. And that you also had clear intent to bring harm upon the Federation by supplying a possible weapon to—"

"No! No!" Mudd screamed. "It was the Ferangi who set up the actual deal!"

"They're dead, Mudd," Kirk said harshly, pounding the table once with a fist. "Who was the Romulan buyer?"

"A myth, a ghost," Mudd wailed, pulling at his thinning hair. "He goes by the name Chakek. Nobody knows his real name. I swear it . . . I swear I don't know anymore."

Kirk straightened and smoothed down his shirt. He stared down at the man he'd once thought of as amusing, if also extremely annoying. All he felt now was disgust.

"Take him back to the brig," he said to the guards. "I don't want to see him again."

"Chakek"—Commander Spock explained to those gathered in the conference room a short while later—"is a villainous character from the Romulan version of the human 'bedtime story.'"

"A Romulan version of the boogeyman?" Sulu questioned.

"Correct," Spock replied. "Whereas the Terran boogeyman is a mythical creature used by human adults to frighten children into obedient behavior, the Romulan's Chakek creature is used to motivate children into achieving higher educational goals in order to avoid the Chakek's unquenchable hunger for the body parts of the ignorant."

Chekov looked uncomfortable. "Reminds me of something my father used to threaten."

Spock continued. "We now know that the Ferangi were attempting to sell the unidentified female to a Romulan terrorist. Chakek is also a pseudonym for a Romulan revolutionary," he explained. "A revolutionary that is for the sole advancement of the Romulan people and a complete annihilation of the Federation."

"That's just great," Sulu sighed, fiddling with the datapad in his hands. He'd shared a report on several algae spores he'd found in part of the cryo-unit's outer casing. He'd been running the combination of spores through the planetary database to find a planet where the three plants coincided. It was a long shot—the spores could have been picked up on the mapping ship or the Gyrating Ginny—but it was worth a try.

"And he thinks that wee lass canna help him?" Scotty asked, looking as though he wanted to laugh. "Ach, the Romulan Empire's in a sad state if it can't catch a man like that. That's to say, if the coldhearted divvils even want to catch'im."

"Initially, Chakek was unaware that the so-called 'weapon' was a life form," Kirk put in, then added sourly, "Mudd claims he informed the Ferangi who then sent a message to the Romulans. After he sent them the details, however, they seemed even more committed to the deal which leads me to believe that Mudd isn't giving us the complete story."

Sulu pulled a face. "Has he ever?"

"Makes me wonder why Chakek was interested in buying her, though," Uhura put in softly. "I mean, any knowledge of weaponry she might have had would be outdated, right?"

"Aye," Scotty agreed. "By my latest approximation, by about one hundred twenty-five years."

A pained gasp caught Kirk's attention. He'd been listening so closely to the discussion that he'd nearly forgotten that Dr. McCoy was sitting on the far side of the table. Normally the doctor wasn't so quiet.

McCoy didn't look much better than he had last night. Fatigue exacerbated the lines on his face while the skin around the eye sockets looked thin and bruised. It wasn't entirely unexpected—Kirk had seen the report on the vaccine replicator that morning. The unit had begun to malfunction at 0400 hours, and despite a technician being called in to make repairs, it was standard protocol to notify the cmo. Worried about the situation on Halo, McCoy had undoubtedly gotten up just to harass the technician into making the repairs as quickly as possible.

What was unexpected was the way McCoy was avoiding everyone's gaze, including Kirk's. It was unsettling since McCoy was the kind of man that didn't shy away from hard conversations. Hell, most of the time it was McCoy who faced the hard truths first. Maybe he was reading his friend wrong, but Kirk now suspected that whatever was going on with McCoy, it would take more than a bottle of Romulan Ale to get it out of him.

McCoy clearly felt everyone's eyes on him. He shifted uncomfortably then said in a gruff voice, "You've all read my report: the patient is stable but remains in a comatose state. I've sent her facial and genetic information to Headquarters, but it's a good possibility that she's never been placed in the registry to begin with due to the . . . the duration of her stasis. The only other information I have is that she is approximately twenty-five years of age and, despite needing a few good meals, is in excellent health. There are also no tribal markings or colony tattoos to indicate where she might have come from."

Kirk nodded and flicked off the center computer screen, indicating that the meeting was over. "Looks like we have a shy one on our hands, people. You've got your assignments. Sulu? Keep me up to date on your spore theory and Scotty"—he turned to the engineering chief—"download the cryo-unit's software code and send it to both Mr. Spock and myself."

"Aye, Sir."

"And me, Sir? Vat can I do?" Chekov asked, eager to help.

Kirk smiled at him. "Have Lieutenant Uhura get you in touch with the captain of that mapping ship. Get any of the flight records Mudd didn't alter and try to create a probable pattern as to where the ship might have gone."

"Vill do, Sir."

"And me, Jim?" McCoy asked after the others had left. He was still sitting at the table. "What am I supposed to do?"

Kirk studied him for a long moment. He was about to ask his friend what was wrong when the intercom whistled. He was needed on the bridge.

"Get some rest, Bones," he said quietly before leaving the conference room. "That's an order."

Okay, so I did a minor bad when I inserted another character's viewpoint earlier in the chapter - but Janice Rand is, surprisingly, fun to right. I like to flush out the characters' lives, make them more dimensional, and Kirk has this little thing where he just loves to annoy his yeoman. She's not stupid and rarely takes his shit.

On another topic, I want to thank you for the reviews. It wasn't until the last chapter that I got any feedback at all. I'm not a feedback junkie (not really, anyway) but I like to hear your thoughts and share a moment of your time. I've read and reread your comments and tucked them away in my little, angst-ridden heart. It is really bringing me a lot of joy sharing this with you, so if you have any thoughts, please continue to share them. ~ Cooper

Ps. I've not figured out how to reply to reviews just yet (if possible) but thank you to Kalima and PhiebeSnow. It does mean a lot. And for both of you, I got up early and posted Chapter Five before heading off to work. (Yeah, working on the weekends kind of sucks.)