“But why murder him?” Orloff asked. “What was the harm in his examining it for the record?”
“The Glory is a national heritage, an historical artifact of great importance not only for its actual value but for what it means to the Vulcan people. Perhaps one of the Vulcans on board learned Meadows had violated the captain’s order, took offense at him handling it ...”
“I could accept that if Meadows had been challenged, perhaps even beaten up for what he had done—but murder, Number One. Why murder the man for his trespass? And, more important, where is the Glory now? We went over that lab from top to bottom for clues. There was no sign of the stone.”
[173] Number One shook her head, sighing. “I don’t know. All I know is that Meadows’s murder and the disappearance of Vulcan’s Glory are tied together—and a Vulcan on board this ship is the criminal.”
Pike, Spock, Endel, and Ars Dan followed the distinctive mutant animal tracks until they were well out of sight of the oasis and anyone who might have followed them. Berendel and Farnah had trailed them for a short way, urging the use of meercans on them until Pike had had to accept the animals. He had not intended to have to deal with the mounts, but the only way to stop Farnah from continuing to follow them with good advice was to take the proffered animals and ride away. When they had gone far enough to be clear and had checked their back trail for any shadowers, Pike waved the group together and dismounted. The others followed suit, and Endel gathered up the reins of all four meercans. “Tether them over there,” Pike said, pointing to the side of the trail. There was small shelter in the shade of several kerra trees there, and Endel led the meercans to it. Pike flipped out his communicator and contacted the Enterprise.
Number One was not on the bridge, but the third officer was on duty. She responded quickly. “Enterprise. Oyama here, sir.”
“I need a sensor scan for any life-form clusters in the Druncara Range. If you need coordinates, the planetary mapping scan will give them to you.”
“One moment, sir. We’re scanning for you now.” There was another moment of silence, then Oyama’s voice came clearly over the communicator. “There is [174] a large concentration of life forms in the high treeline of the central massif. Possibly a village or an encampment.”
“Nothing between where you are reading me now and that reading in the Druncaras?”
Silence, then Oyama replied, “No, sir. That is all.”
“Good. Four to beam to a point within one kilometer of that concentration of life forms.”
“Yes, sir. I will give the coordinates to the transporter chief now. We will put you down in an area east of the life-form concentration. Sensors show trees and rock formations there that will offer some cover so you will not be seen beaming in. Enterprise out.”
Pike looked around at the others. “Whatever the mutants plan for Bardan and Silene, they wouldn’t risk doing anything to them here on the flatlands. They would have headed for their refuge in the mountains, and I doubt they stopped until they reached it. The encampment or village—whatever it is our sensors are reading—is the most likely place to find our two runaways.”
“We have been delayed in discovering where the victims were taken, Captain,” Spock pointed out. “If the mutants are as savage as they are reported to be—”
“Possibly even flesh eaters,” Ars Dan put in.
“Possibly so,” Spock agreed. “If they are that savage, sir, we may be far too late.”
Pike nodded, acknowledging the possibility. “Bardan and Silene could be dead. I hope not. However we find them, I’ve promised to return them to their parents.”
[175] Suddenly, there was the distinctive high hum in the air that signaled the beginning of transportation. The four officers positioned themselves in preparation for it. A glittering, sparkling glow covered their bodies, shimmeringly outlined their shapes for a brief moment, and then slowly dwindled to nothingness. The high hum faded away and left the desert silent except for the soughing wind.
T’Pris asked to see the murder scene after Number One delegated her to the investigation. There was no reason why she should not, and the first officer opened the sealed lab for her scrutiny. Boyce and Number One followed her in, wondering what she might see that they had not. She wandered through the lab, carefully studying everything. She stopped beside the science computer on the lab table where Meadows had worked and activated it. She ran a quick check of its files, then ran it again. At the end of ten minutes, she turned to Number One and Boyce, frowning.
“Well, Lieutenant?”
“There is nothing tangible, Number One. But there is something else, an intellectual feeling I have.”
“Feelings?” Number One smiled at the younger woman. “I didn’t think Vulcans admitted to such aberrations.”
T’Pris tilted her head and allowed a brief curving of her lips. “I said an intellectual feeling.” She paused, trying to pin it down. “Something does not fit into the mosaic we are putting together here.”
“How so?” Boyce asked. “I think it’s pretty clear on the evidence. A Vulcan apparently murdered [176] Meadows using a known Vulcan killing technique. Whether it was premeditated or not is in question. Meadows had the Glory in his possession. The Glory is gone. Presumably, the Vulcan who murdered Meadows took it.”
“Yes,” T’Pris agreed. “Presumably. Apparently. But in spite of the many circumstances that seem to say Vulcan, there is something non-Vulcan here. I admit only a Vulcan is trained to use the lan-dovna technique and has the strength to use it successfully. It is possible a Vulcan could have learned of Meadows’s appropriation of the Glory and interpreted his handling of it as an insult or even the violation of a sacred relic of our people. Vulcans have a highly developed sense of justice. The murderer might have been moved to avenge that sacrilege if it was interpreted as such.”
“Aren’t we saying the same things?” Boyce asked.
“No.”
“Explain, please,” Number One said.
T’Pris lifted her hands in a helpless gesture, shaking her head slightly, trying to explain the un-Vulcan elements that were troubling her. “Even if such a thing happened, the Vulcan who committed the crime would be forced by honor to turn himself in for punishment. To take someone’s life even by accident is so deeply against the code we live by that there would be no other action possible for a true Vulcan. We have yearned for the recovery of the Glory for so long. Now that it has been found, taking it for personal gain would be unthinkable. The person who murdered Commander Meadows and stole the Glory is hiding behind lies. No Vulcan would do that.”
[177] “But you admit it had to have been a Vulcan who committed the crime.”
“It would seem so. I have no explanation for the dichotomy, Number One. I only know it exists, and it puzzles me completely. And there is something else.”
“Yes?”
T’Pris turned toward the science computer on the lab table. “If Dr. Boyce is correct about the time of death, Commander Meadows apparently had the Glory in his possession for almost two hours before he was murdered. His reason for getting it in the first place was to study it, record all its aspects, holograph it for Federation records. He must have used this computer to do at least some of the preliminary work, but no record, no files of any kind, exist that indicate he did so. That seems to say those files were erased by the criminal. Why?”
Number One nodded. “Good question, Lieutenant.”
Montgomery Scott came off duty ready to turn in, but Bob Brien had other ideas. When Scott entered their quarters, Brien was counting up a stack of credit chips and smiling happily over the tally on his pad. “Scotty! Glad you’re back. Time to get to work.”
Scotty headed straight for his bunk and collapsed on it. “I’ve been at work, man. D’you not see the chronometer? I’ve been an extra two hours on shift recalibrating the starboard impulse engine.”
“Never mind about that. Look at these orders we have to fill.” Brien leaned over him, push
ing the pad in front of his face.
“Don’t know why she slipped out of calibration like [178] that,” Scott mumbled. “Might’ve jumped too fast to warp after she came out of drydock ... maybe too high a warp ... didn’t take enough time ... to run her up to speed before ...” His eyes slid shut.
Brien dropped a handful of credit chips onto his roommate’s chest. “C’mon, Scotty, wake up.” Scott pried open his lids and groaned. “We have customers to satisfy.” Brien’s mischievous blue eyes sparkled happily. “They want more of that hooch. I checked our stock, and we can fill about half the orders now, but you’ll need to start another batch through.”
“Later,” Scott moaned, flopping over on his side. “I canna do it now.” He tried but couldn’t stifle a body-shuddering yawn. “Later ...”
“Scotty, you don’t understand. Our customers are clamoring for the product now. “A snore rose from the bed, reverberating richly in the quiet room. Scotty was dead to the universe.
Pike led his small team through the trees and tumbled rocks that stubbled the mountainside. The Druncara Range ascended from the plain in a series of ridges that were thickly wooded on the lower flanks, thinning out to skimpy rock-strewn slopes at the tops. The transporter chief had set them down about halfway to the top of the third major ridge. Most of the trees were heavy-boled and resembled those of the evergreen family, though there was a scattering of deciduous trees and a variety of bushes, grasses, and mosses on the lower levels. The treeline was just a little above them, and there was still enough cover for the men to move freely toward the coordinates which [179] sensors had pinpointed as a probable mutant settlement. They did come across a stone-fenced mountain pasture in which strangely formed animals grazed. These were oxlike in body formation but with three eyes and what appeared to be dromedary humps in the center of their backs. One particularly large specimen was penned away from the rest of the small herd, possibly a bull. The beast snorted at their approach and watched them warily until they had passed by.
Spock had been using his tricorder to get a triangulation on the settlement and now gestured forward. “Life forms ahead of us, Captain. Probably on the other side of that rise.”
“All right, let’s split into two parties here and take a look at the situation. Endel, Ars Dan, you make a sweep to the left, and we’ll take the right. We’ll meet back here in fifteen minutes.”
Pike nodded to Spock, and they headed on an angle up the slope. A few minutes later, they were belly down, carefully parting some brush at the crest of the rise to peer down into the valley below. They saw a well-established village, composed of artfully designed buildings of mortared stone. Family homes were graced with porches and verandas that sported heavy growths of vine as shade curtains. The streets were unpaved but of hard-packed earth that obviously saw a lot of traffic.
The hill on the opposite side of the valley had been terraced, and small fields there were under cultivation. A stream tumbled and shouted down the hill on that side to spread into a pool at the foot of the slope. Pike could see a well-made bucket and pulley [180] mechanism that lifted pool water up the terraces to irrigate the fields.
The people they could see moving about the streets and working in the gardens were performing perfectly normal tasks, but even from this distance their appearance was hideous. Few of them looked alike. All had malformed bodies—too many limbs or not enough, and some of these were strangely shaped. The faces that could be seen were warped and inhuman, a terrible contrast to the handsome nomads and townspeople from the flatlands below.
“Looking at their way of life here,” Pike said thoughtfully, “makes me wonder if the mutants are as savage as everyone thinks they are.”
“They do show a talent for building and agriculture, sir. Still, history has shown that many races even more sophisticated than this were capable of the crudest savagery. They did kidnap Silene and Bardan.”
Spock lightly touched Pike’s arm and pointed a long finger to the left. The building was on the edge of the village and not very different from the others, except for the mutant who appeared to be on guard in front of it. A female mutant approached the building, carrying a heavy basket covered with a cloth. She paused beside the guard and lifted a lacquer-ware box from the basket. The guard allowed her to pass into the building with the rest of her burden. The man sat down and opened the box to reveal a selection of small delicacies that he began to pop into his mouth with gusto. Five minutes passed, then the door opened, and the woman reemerged carrying a different basket filled with empty dishes.
[181] Pike signaled Spock to retreat back down the slope, and they paused at the bottom to confer in low voices. “A guarded building. A number of dishes of food going in and out,” Pike said. “That has to be where they’re keeping them prisoner.”
“A logical conclusion, Captain. It is possible the mutants could have some criminals of their own held there, but more than likely it is the two we are seeking.”
“Now, all we have to do is get them out.” Pike looked at Spock, who stared back noncommittally. “My grandmother used to say everything is easy with the mouth. It’s the doing that’s hard.”
“An excellent observation, sir.”
“I have an idea, something like an old Indian trick.”
“Did it work for the Indians?”
Pike searched Spock’s face. Perfectly serious; he was not making a joke. “Yes. Frequently.”
“Ah. Then I suggest we rejoin Lieutenants Endel and Ars Dan and plan the details.”
Number One and Commander Orloff faced the squads of security officers and engineers in the large briefing room with the battle plan they had worked out. The Glory had to be on the Enterprise; therefore, the entire ship had to be searched from disk top to keel bottom. The ’tween decks service passages and Jefferies tubes would be examined with a fine-tooth comb, and the engineers would open up any areas that promised a hiding place. Anything that even hinted at being a potential concealment for the Glory would be investigated.
[182] Scott and Brien, seated together, exchanged a horrified glance. “It’ll have to be moved,” Scott whispered frantically.
“We can’t. We have too many orders to fill. Maybe they’ll look the other way if they happen to notice it.”
“Not while Number One’s in charge of the search. The chief engineer won’t be able to ignore it.”
Brien glanced around to be sure he wasn’t overheard, then he hissed, “We have to keep it producing up to the last possible minute and then move ahead of the search teams. We’ll double in behind them when they’ve cleared out and reinstall it.”
“I canna just be carryin’ the thing through the corridors as it is,” Scott snapped. “It’s too big. It’ll have to be broken down and reassembled and then reinstalled.”
One of the other engineers leaned forward to poke his head between them. “Quiet, you two. I’m trying to hear the exec.”
Lieutenant Pete Bryce had raised his hand and caught Number One’s eye. She nodded to him. “Bryce?”
“I understand we have fifteen suspects. If their quarters are going to be searched, what are we going to do with them while we conduct it?”
“Commander Orloff is handling that.”
Orloff briskly stepped forward. “All suspects will be held in detention cells while their quarters are searched. They will be returned to house arrest when the search teams are through in those areas.”
T’Pris had been given the difficult assignment of informing her Vulcan colleagues of the detention. [183] Most of them accepted it in proud, cold silence. Sefor, the senior Vulcan, served as spokesman for all of them when he demanded to know why they had to be detained in cells.
“As long as we are suspects, we will be watched and guarded. None of us can possibly escape the ship. Must we also suffer the humiliation of being locked up?”
T’Pris lowered her eyes, understanding the pride that made him ask the question, and she was ashamed at what she had to say next. “Com
mander Orloff and Dr. Boyce will be administering a truth-detector test to each of you while you are in the cells.”
“A truth detector used on Vulcans? This is an insult, Lieutenant.”
“I agree. But they have the right to apply it. A murder has been committed, and the Glory has been stolen. Someone must be lying.”
“Someone, yes. But not necessarily a Vulcan.”
“It is someone with the strength and the technique to commit the murder using lan-dovna. To your knowledge, could anyone other than a Vulcan do it?”
Sefor frowned deeply, his brows drawing together in a straight, dark line. Reluctantly, he sighed and said, “No. It seems to point only to a Vulcan, but I swear on my honor that I do not believe any one of our compatriots could or would commit such acts.”
“The evidence does not agree.”
“Evidence may be interpreted many ways, Lieutenant. With no hard clues, no witnesses, and no motive attributable to any one of us, it may be that the interpretation of the evidence is incorrect.”
* * *
[184] Boyce and Orloff stared at each other over the truth detector after the last Vulcan had completed the bout of questioning. The machine was sensitive not only to minute body responses—pulse, heart, degree of perspiration—but it had the capacity to register voice inflections that betrayed untruths as well.
“I don’t believe it,” Orloff grunted.
“I’ve never known this thing to fail,” Boyce said.
The door of the interrogation room slid open, and the two men looked up as Number One entered. “Well, gentlemen?” She dropped gracefully into a chair opposite Boyce. The doctor looked away from her uncomfortably. “Am I jumping ahead too far if I guess the tests were inconclusive?”
“Not inconclusive,” Boyce replied. “They were all negative.”
STAR TREK: TOS #44 - Vulcan's Glory Page 14