SpockRECORDS LOG ENTRY: Command crew assembly for DEMOTH has begun. Lead teams are assuming positions. Scout crew reported UFO on shipping lane this date. Scanner data inconclusive. Aldeb colony has provisional approval for affected sector.####### Boots scrunching the soft pumice-stone floor was the only sound. His own boots. There was no one else. He fought the panic that was building within him. He pulled he cloak around himself, tighter, in comfort. He gained the cavern entrance, replacing the light-torch to his side so his hands would be free for balance. He stepped into the blinding bright light of the Vulcan noontime sun, blinking from the effects of the sunlight and the raw desert wind that whipped he cloak around his legs. Turning slowly, he searched each direction for some sign, some being other than himself. For a moment he thought he had heard someone. Hoped against all the evidence his eyes had seen. Held to that thread for just one more moment. But, it was only the raw desert wind... Star Date: 7703.21... Spock bolted upright on the sleeping pallet, half awake, half in the grip of the nightmare that had awakened him. He blinked at the incense flame and struggled to focus. He shook his head as if to clear it, wiped his hand across his eyes as if he still saw something he had no wish to see. The cloak of the nightmare had him a moment longer and then slipped away. He pulled himself upright on the , which was damp from his sweat, and shivered as wet skin met night air. The room was lit only by the low glow of the incense burner; its spicy aroma sent a pleasant reassurance. He knew his way around well enough and that, coupled with his night vision, allowed him to make his way easily to the chair over which he had previously draped his thick lounging caftan. He slipped the heavy robe over his tall, thin figure, and made his way back to the bed. His breathing was too rapid and he noticed that his hands were shaking. It was only a slight trembling now. What was next? He knew and cursed softly as he dropped into a ritual breathing rhythm. The discipline was a security blanket he gratefully adopted, forcing calm onto a troubled mind. After a few minutes he stopped to recheck himself. His breathing was labored but steadying. He examined his hands. His thin fingers shook and he clenched them to suppress it. But his anger at what was happening still surfaced. “Damn them! Damn them all!” His fist repeatedly pounded the mattress, sending swirls of the thick desert dust into the early morning air, until he was chagrined at his own outburst, until he forced himself to watch the eddys in the still dusky sunlight as he steadied his breathing. The caftan was luxuriously thick and soft and the morning's chill no longer bothered him. But something else did. “No more! I cannot live like this! I cannot!” spoken to himself. His anger had subsided as he became fully awake. Only the tint of green in his dark eyes betrayed his outburst. Spock made sure of his composure by monitoring his own heart beat and respiration for a few more minutes. Then, satisfied that he was once again in control, he crossed his room to his private communications terminal, punched up the controls until the familiar purple glow appeared on the screen, followed by the sign-on acknowledgement and the information he had requested. He read the screen's display again, carefully, then, punching in an additional request, he turned to a closet and pulled out a battered yet serviceable valise. The closet also yielded a freshly laundered uniform, boots, and a traveling cape, all of which he had put on and adjusted to his tastes before the console beeped for attention. “Admiral Henrichi here. Spock! You're looking well.” Henrichi looked slightly abashed at finding himself viewing an impeccably attired officer. He himself was in his pajamas as any good citizen would be at this hour of the night. Thalos ran on a different clock.. “Spock here. I have been reviewing the communications from Main Base concerning the recent ship losses. As a result, I have decided to go back on active duty. Also based on those reports, I presumed that you were the one that I should contact to arrange this?” Henrichi paused in mock surprise, then answered. “I would be only too delighted to do so! Welcome back! I, for one, never believed you would stay planet-side so long.” Spock ignored the comments, a pointed reminder of his personal situation. He concentrated on maintaining a slightly disinterested coolness for the mechanics of the transaction, behaving as everyone always expected him to behave. At least he hoped he was maintaining his image. Keeping his hands clasped behind his back, he replied. “I believe that the star ship USS Enterprise NCC-1701 is nearly restored. I am requesting reassignment to that ship. I believe that I may be of some small assistance in expediting the computer installations. I would find that assignment, interesting.” Henrichi took a moment to digest the information. Vulcans made him nervous, even one that had proved himself to be helpful to humans. “Oh, of course, Spock. At this hour, however,” he paused while grabbing at something off-screen, “It is difficult to find the red tape --- never mind to cut it.” “I am prepared to wait,” Spock tried not to be impatient with the human. Kirk had taught him that there were differences among the humans in more than races, far more than found on his own homeworld. “But not too long I take it. Eh?” Henrichi eyed the full dress travel uniform, and the apparent readiness of its wearer to do just that. He continued to fumble at something. “You are correct.” Spock sounded slightly annoyed, if not bored as he watched Henrichi’s machinations. He controlled his emotions from long habit when in the presence of a mere human, a line officer who had not seen so much as one hour of combat. Kirk was at the least willing to make an effort to accommodate the Vulcan while Henrichi was merely baffled. “Ah. Here we are. Yes. Hmmmm. With your record, I believe that I can recom you immediately as a star fleet officer, at the same the grade you held, as is expected in these cases. You might even make Captain. Your records show an interest in that. Say after the first cruise.” He eyed Spock warily. “Is that satisfactory?” “Agreed.” The unknown future was not of immediate concern. The immediate situation was too pressing. “Well then, --- tomorrow at 1500 SFT a shuttle, the Ducas, happens to be departing in the direction you desire. Debarkation center QMX307 will handle you. I hope that's suitable.” The admiral was being too efficient. Spock raised an eyebrow at swiftness of the arrangements, and wondered just how long the pilot of the shuttle had been kept delayed. Henrichi had been angling for Spock for some time, or so Spock had been informed. The information must have been correct. He replied, without reacting to his suspicions. “I shall be at QMX307 at precisely 1500SFT next date.” Spock bowed to Henrici and reached to cut off the screen. Faced with a wait that would be awkward for the household if he remained in travel attire, he returned the uniform and cape to the closet. The valise he finished packing with the items he normally traveled with, and then placed it with the uniform. He then settled down to some serious review of Star Fleet procedures, and the creation of those programs and data disks that would accompany him to the Enterprise. Although it was still early morning, sleeping was just not attractive. In the process, he picked up another encoded broadcast. RECORDS LOG ENTRY 4-7703.22H: Federation scout Seaview has been reported lost. DEMOTH schedule has been approved. Discretionary measures as required to meet schedule approved by Base Central... Recruiting underway. MOTHRA has been tethered Shuttle ship Ducas has been detoured for pick-up. Bait is reset for MONARCH Project DEMOTH under security precautions. Suspected infiltration of headquarters by unknown agents. All future log entries to be encoded via random chip select. ####### Henrichi had been pretty sure about all this. The message only confirmed Spock’s suspicions about the political manipulation being exercised. He wondered how Kirk was fairing in the midst of all of this. |