Star Trek - TOS - 30 - DEMONS

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by J. M. Dillard




  Demons

  by

  J. M. dillard

  Look for Star Trek fiction from Pocket Books

  Enterprise 17 Star Trek III

  The First Adventure The Search for Spock

  1 Star Trek 18 My Enemy, My Ally

  The Motion Picture 19 The Tears of the Singers

  2 The Entropy Effect 20 The Vulcan Academy

  3 The Klingon Gambit Murders

  4 The Covenant of 21 Uhura's Song the Crown 22 Shadow Lord

  5 The Prometheus Design 23 Ishmael

  6 The Abode of Life 24 Killing Time

  7 Star Trek H 25 Dwellers in the Crucible

  The Wrath of Khan 26 Pawns and Symbols

  8 Black Fire 27 Mindshadow

  9 Triangle 28 Crisis on Centaurus

  10 Web of the Romulans 29 Dreadnought!

  11 Yesterday's Son 30 Demons

  12 Mutiny on the Enterprise 31 Battlestations!

  13 The Wounded Sky Star Trek IV

  14 The Trellisane The Voyage Home

  Confrontation 32 Chain of Attack

  15 Corona 33 Deep Domain

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  a Star Trek Novel

  PUBLISHED BY POCKET BOOKS NEW YORK

  This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and

  incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are

  used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or

  persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Another Original publication of POCKET BOOKS

  POCKET BOOKS, a division of Simon & Schuster, Inc. 1230 Avenue of the

  Americas, New York, N.Y. 10020

  Copyright 1986 Paramount Pictures Corporation. All Rights Reserved.

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or

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  Pocket Books, 1230 Avenue . of the Americas, New York, N.Y. 10020

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  ISBN 0-671-62524-1

  First Pocket Books Science Fiction printing July, 1986

  10 9876543

  POCKET and colophon are registered trademarks of Simon & Schuster,

  Inc.

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  in the U.S. Patent and Trademark Office.

  Printed in the U.S.A.

  PROLOGUE

  Beekman's Planet. Its nearness to binary suns and oppressive humidity

  made it hot, even for Vulcans, but unlike home, Beekman's was lush and

  wet. Up in the mountains it was cooler, and atop the smallest of them,

  T'Ylle sat on her heels, shading her eyes from the glare. It had been

  said that she was beautiful, and that her eyes made her so they were

  large and almond-shaped, with an upward slant, as velvety blue black as

  her hair. To T'Ylle, the fact had never been of the least importance

  there was a remoteness about them as well that was impenetrable.

  T'Ylle pulled back the hood of her jacket and brushed the moisture from

  the face of the tricorder. The afternoon rains had just ended, and the

  leaves, coated with tiny droplets, made the glade glisten like a jewel.

  Steam rose from the ground around her boots with a soft hiss. She

  scanned the area briefly, and the results pleased her--she was the only

  animal life form in the immediate vicinity. Danger was, at least for

  the moment, averted. She let the tricorder dangle again from the strap

  on her shoulder and peered over the precipice.

  Below, tiny workers crawled out from under makeshift shelters and

  began digging in the heavy muck, made heavier still by the fresh rain.

  In spite of the limitations imposed by the climate and soil conditions,

  work on the dig had progressed beyond their expectations. They had

  originally anticipated at least another year, but it was rumored that

  Starnn would declare their decades of work finished sometime within the

  next few days. Already they were close to exhausting this site--the

  last--of its treasure. And do they know, thought T'Ylle, what they

  have unearthed?

  Save for those already affected, none of the others suspected.. ..

  Perhaps it was foolish of her to confront the danger this boldly, but

  family relationships demanded no less. She could not go to the others,

  not until she had confirmation from his own lips first. If not

  foolish, then she was at the very least reckless .. . but the chance

  existed that she could set things aright, or that she had been wrong,

  had entirely misunderstood.

  But she knew she had not.

  She repressed, so much from habit that she was no longer aware of it

  and would have denied it, a shudder at the thought of what would happen

  if she were killed. The gesture had arisen not from fear of her own

  mortality, but of what would follow for the others--not only the

  expedition, but the billions back home.. ..

  She rose expectantly at the sound of steps crushing the low, sun-baked

  undergrowth, but did not use the tricorder to tell her what approached.

  At present only one species of animal life on the planet was capable

  of

  such footfall. The footsteps shuffled and came to a halt.

  At the same time, something buzzed loudly past her, grazing her face.

  Disconcerted, she stepped back and raised the tricorder in front of her

  face as protection. When the assailant flew past again, she struck out

  at it. The insect fell on its back in the soil, its legs dancing

  maniacally in the air. Without hesitation, T'Ylle lowered her foot

  over it and with a quick, firm movement, crushed it. Her mouth

  twitched slightly as the hard shell made a loud crunch beneath her

  boot.

  The visitor stood silently and watched the murder without reaction;

  T'Ylle raised serene, fearless eyes to meet his.

  "You see," she said, "I know everything."

  Chapter One

  the building, which housed the sister sciences of linguistics,

  anthropology, and archaeology, was more than three thousand years old,

  but it could scarcely be distinguished from the younger buildings on

  the campus of the Vulcan Science Academy. The structure's design was a

  wonder of the architecture of the period --naturally lit by the sun and

  ventilated by captured desert breezes, it had taken no notice of the

  passage of three millennia, save for the addition of artificial

  nighttime lighting and computer equipment in the labs. Outside, the

  hot wind rippled red sand into tiny dunes under a blinding sun; inside,

  it was fresh and cool and dim.

 
The ceilings in the ancient building were high, and the heels of

  Sarek's boots echoed loudly on the stone stairs. He climbed until he

  reached the third floor (he would not have used the lift even if there

  had been one) and walked to the end of the hallway, to the door bearing

  the inscription linguistics. He paused before the door and spoke a

  name aloud--the offices were not equipped with buzzers--and waited for

  a response too soft for human ears before he pushed against the heavy

  stone door.

  In the center of the room was a desk and behind it a

  window flooded the room with sunlight, obscuring for a moment the face

  of the seated figure in shadow. Sarek blinked. The figure rose and

  stepped forward out of the glare.

  Silek was younger, leaner, with an openness about him that Sarek

  completely lacked, but even so the resemblance was unmistakable. He

  raised his hand in the Vulcan salute. "It has been many years,

  brother."

  Sarek returned the salute. "Many years; thirty-eight point four

  standard, to be exact."

  "I trust your wife and son are well?"

  "They are well." Sarek paused politely, taking notice of the stranger

  who stood next to Silek's desk.

  Silek turned to him deferentially. "This is Starnn, my father-in-law.

  Starnn was chief archaeologist on our project. He will be

  participating in the presentation with us."

  "Sarek," Sarek addressed the old Vulcan. "Then you are part of our

  family, and will be staying with us."

  Out of respect for Starnn's age, which he estimated to be well over two

  hundred, Sarek waited for the older man to initiate the salute. But

  Starnn merely nodded distractedly. His white hair was disheveled, as

  though he had forgotten to comb it, and there was a vacant gaze in his

  eyes. Sarek took no offense; even the best of Vulcans sometimes

  suffered from forgetfulness at such advanced age.

  "Starnn, of course, has often heard me mention your name, and is

  honored," Silek said swiftly.

  Sarek changed the subject. "And what of your expedition to the

  Hydrilla sector?"

  "Most successful, actually," replied Silek. "Of the

  ruins, we were only able to thoroughly explore Beekman's Planet, which

  is why we need more funding to continue exploration of the sector."

  "If you were successful, no doubt you uncovered some interesting

  artifacts," Sarek said, looking at Starnn.

  "Of course," Starnn said in a wavering voice, suddenly galvanized.

  "That is why we must return. There were far too many for us to uncover

  in one expedition. And several of these discoveries are worthy of

  extensive study and testing, for they will no doubt lead to a greater

  understanding of the principles of physics." He turned to Silek.

  "Show him the box."

  "Yes," said Silek. "One of our most intriguing discoveries." He went

  into the lab for a moment, then returned to the outer office area with

  a look of thinly veiled scientific excitement and what looked to be a

  smooth piece of onyx, polished so that its surface reflected the faces

  of the three. It was somewhat larger than Silek's hand, and shaped

  like a Terran oyster, with an almost invisible seam around its center.

  Even in the daylight, a faint bluish glow emanated from it. Sarek

  thought he detected a slight hum.

  "Try to op en it." Silek handed it to him.

  Sarek pulled on the top of the box and flinched as it sparked and

  crackled. "I cannot."

  "Nor can we," replied Silek, "with all of our instruments. It is

  apparently an internally generated force field. And it is shielded

  from us; our scanners cannot penetrate this material. We don't even

  know if the structure is solid or hollow. And, of course, the field

  will not permit us to analyze the material."

  "Fascinating," said Sarek.

  "And quite beautiful," said Starnn. "An ingenious blending of the

  principles of physics and art to create a puzzle. We found many others

  like it; this one is the smallest. Please take it as a gift, a

  souvenir of the Hydrilla sector."

  Silek shot a quizzical glance at the elderly Vulcan.

  "Forgive me," said Sarek, "but I cannot take it. This belongs to the

  academy museum. It belongs where others can appreciate it."

  Starnn ignored Silek's stern, silent gaze. "We already have too many

  for display. This one is the smallest, as I said."

  "I cannot," said Sarek.

  Starnn grew something close to vehement. "You are a diplomat," he

  said. "Your house is open to many guests, some of them interplanetary;

  the box would be seen and enjoyed by many."

  "Perhaps you are right." Sarek bowed slightly, wishing at this point

  only to humor him. "I am honored."

  "Your acceptance honors me," Starnn said, mollified.

  "If you gentlemen are ready," Sarek said, "I will escort you to my

  home."

  "Yes," Silek agreed quickly. "And will your family be there also?"

  "My wife will be there. Spock is in Star Fleet."

  "Forgive me," said Starnn. "I have some matters to attend to here in

  the capital. If it is no inconvenience, I will join you later."

  "Certainly," said Sarek. "Take the evening shuttle to ShiKahr and I

  will meet you at the station."

  Starnn nodded and picked up the box. "Do not

  forget this. I know you will display it where it can be admired."

  Sarek bowed again as he accepted the box.

  The two left. In the hallway, out of Starnn's earshot, Sarek said, "I

  am honored by the gift, but I feel it is inappropriate. I am unused to

  receiving items which should be museum pieces."

  "Starnn uncovered many of these," Silek answered, not meeting his

  brother's eyes. "He is quite accurate when he says that there are too

  many for display."

  "Then it could be used for testing. And I perceive that you also do

  not approve of Starnn's action."

  Silek paused before he met Sarek's eyes. "Starnn may be chief

  archaeologist, but even that does not give him the right to dispose of

  academy property."

  "Then why did you say nothing to him?"

  "He has not been himself of late."

  "He is old," said Sarek. "And his only daughter has died."

  Silek glanced at him darkly. "My wife. Yet I have not changed. It's

  more than that. Even before T'Ylle died, Starnn .. . changed."

  "Perhaps he should visit a healer."

  "If you could recommend a local one," Silek said, "I will suggest it to

  him."

  "That would be wise," said Sarek.

  Silek paused, and his tone became lighter. "And is the lady Amanda

  still as gracious as I remember her?"

  Sarek was unaware that his expression had softened. "Even more so."

  A diamond-eyed beetle with mother-of-pearl wings droned in through the

  open window of the archaeology

  dating laboratory. Starnn took no notice; his eyes were focused on a

  row of silvery onyx boxes all weakly glowing in the day lit room. He

  did not see the insect until it had the misfortune of lighting on one

  of the luminous boxes. Starnn cupped his hands and gently caught the

  creature, moving toward the open w
indow to free it; but a spasm shook

  him before he was able to unclasp his hands. It passed swiftly,

  leaving his face locked in a hideous grimace. The grimace resolved

  itself into a serene smile as he set the beetle carefully upon the

  windowsill, and with long, bony fingers, proceeded to pull off its

  delicate, iridescent wings.

  "I just don't understand, sir," Lisa Nguyen said. "Why are we picking

  up only a handful of the expedition?"

  The security contingent of Tomson, Nguyen and al Baslama had seen to it

  that the Vulcan researchers were safely ensconced in their quarters and

  were now making their way back to C deck. Nguyen was the newest member

  of the security team, and the lowest in rank. She had directed this

  question deferentially to Security Chief Tomson.

  Tomson gave Nguyen a sideways glance, secretly displeased, although

  technically she had no right to be. Nguyen was eager and well-scrubbed

  enough, with hair pulled back and falling in an amazingly straight line

  down her back. It was the hair that troubled Tomson; she could not get

 

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