‘Tis Charity
to Show
Chapter VI
Part 1
“Jesus effin’
Christ, lady! Ease up on your eczema
obsession already! God!”
Rand threw
her head back and groaned. She was in Dr. Ellis’ claustrophobic hole of an office, listening to yet another
round of logs on the recorder, containing reams of nothing.
Rand sat up and looked out the window, which was the only thing keeping her from
going completely insane. She was
wound-up tight after last night and early this morning, after all that crazy
making with the rest of the crew.
Nurse Rose throwing up at the end of it all really took the cake, but it
was the only thing that snapped everyone back to reality, strangely
enough. Dr. Begay even cleaned up
the mess, him being a doctor and all.
Rand brought
her mind back to the present, and looked hard at the recorder, as if doing so
would make her focus on her work, but Dr. Ellis sure wasn’t making it any
easier. Her once minute detailed
descriptions on her digs and findings were being interrupted by complaints
about her eczema! It was quite apparent that Dr. Ellis’ skin condition was
worsening, as she obsessed over her flaring skin, her enlarged rashes and
deepening scars.
The voice of
the archeologist, once monotone enough to give a hypnotherapist a run for their
money, was now increasingly high-pitched, pained, almost maniacal as she went
on about the discomfort from the itch and all-around tightness of the skin, and
the insistent burning from the deep wounds. There was something in her voice that sounded a bit too much
like Riley with all the agitated, delirious fussing. At one point, Rand even found herself scratching herself on
her elbow, the nape of her neck, and under her chin.
“Great! Now she has me scratching,” she
lamented, throwing her arms up in the air.
Then, Dr.
Ellis’ voice was suddenly stopped in mid-sentence. A low static hum was the only sound on the recorder
now. Rand sat up, startled, and
leaned into the recorder, pressing both the fast forward and play buttons
alternately. Nothing. The rest of the recording was blank.
Turning off
the recorder, she pressed the eject button to flip open the hatch. Rand gingerly removed the wafer and
looked at the label.
“Shit,” she
thought.
This one was
the last of the labeled wafers; the rest of them were blank, unused, which
meant that all of this listening and painstaking focus for any clues, was at a
dead end.
Disgusted,
Rand replaced the wafer into the pouch and closed the recorder hatch shut. She pushed back her chair,
defeated. Now what? It seemed to her that there was only
one thing left to do. Rand got up
from the chair and pushed it back under the desk, took the pouch, then left the
office, heading for Mr. Spock’s quarters.
Damn her wariness about the guy!
She’d make him take a listen to these. Maybe he’d be able to find something she overlooked, though
she doubted it.
When she
reached Mr. Spock’s door she knocked, called his name, then waited. After not getting an answer, Rand
decided to bite the bullet to take a peak inside the room. So, she took a deep breath to steady
herself, and slowly, as quietly as possible, opened Spock’s door. She gingerly leaned her head inside and
looked around, seeing only his bed, his makeshift meditation corner by the
window, and neatly set-up work desk with all his instruments perfectly lined in
a row. His room was unoccupied.
“Might be at
the meeting room,” she thought.
Gently, she
closed the door behind her and then headed for the meeting place, where the
rest of the landing party, including Spock, had already gathered for a
meeting. Rand was stunned as she
stood by the door, watching Spock standing with arms crossed, legs apart, neck
jutted forward and eyes narrowed at the crewmembers who were surrounding him
now. For one thing, she never
received word that any meeting was taking place at all.
“Was anyone
going to let me know about this,” she thought, feeling annoyed that she somehow
wasn’t included in this little gathering.
The other
thing that bothered Rand greatly was Mr. Spock himself; the way he looked,
stood. The expression on his face
was hostile, almost feral with his narrow eyes and clenched jaw, his cheekbones
taunt like steel wire against his pale, greenish-tinged skin. If his body language wasn’t
uncharacteristic of Spock, she didn’t know what was.
Rand moved
in to join her fellow crewmen, who all looked at Spock with watchful,
deliberate gazes, appearing purposeful, yet guarded. Looking a bit bloated, Nurse Rose was the first to speak,
her voice clear but hesitant.
“With all
due respect to you, sir, I don’t think this mission’s been very
successful. Nothing’s been
found of the archeologists at all.
I mean, don’t you think we would have found something by now, sir?”
Rose
finished her sentence by trailing off at the end, and then looking around at
the others sheepishly, as if for validation that the others had her back. Murmurs of agreement from the others
confirmed that she did.
“I agree, Mr.
Spock! This mission needed to be
aborted since yesterday,” said Riley.
More murmurs
of agreement. Rand stepped
forward, opening up the pouch and removing the logs for the Vulcan to see,
fanning them out in her hand.
“I have to
side with everyone else, sir. I’ve
just finished listening to Dr. Ellis’ logs, and there was nothing of
significance that might lead us to any clues on the team’s disappearance or
whereabouts. Most of them were standard
findings and happenings on the expedition, but then they degenerate into
obsessive rants over her developing childhood eczema. After that, the recording ends abruptly. There is nothing else. The rest of the tapes were never used,
sir.”
She extended
her hand out to Spock, offering the recordings to him for his own ears. Spock didn’t take the wafers from her,
but stood there, standing center to the others like Captain Bligh.
“Yeoman
Rand, clues can often be found in places where they are the least obvious. May I suggest that perhaps you did not
listen closely enough to the logs in the first place,” he said in a clipped,
patronizing tone. Rand felt the
back of her neck grow hot. She was
angry now. Whatever fear she had towards
Spock dissipated behind her bubbling rage.
“Oh, and I suppose
that if I had Vulcan blood running through my veins I’d have been able to pick
up on those hidden clues. Am
I right?”
She heard
her voice; she was barely able to keep it on an even keel, she was so livid.
“How dare
you question my professional judgment and abilities,” she thought.
“With all
due respect, Mr. Spock, that’s a bit of a cop-out. If Janice says that there
was nothing helpful on the tapes, then I’m sure that she’s basing that on
strong professional analytical skills and integrity,” said Dr. Begay. “Now, I believe that we should contact
the captain, tell him that this mission was unsuccessful and wrap things up
here.”
Everyone
murmured in the affirmative, while Spock seethed. He looked at Dr. Begay, his eyes focused,
antagonistic, aimed like two weapons seeking a vulnerable area, where the most
damage could be wreaked.
“There is a
fact that clearly must be established here. I am the leader of this search party, and not you,
doctor. May I offer to suggest
that you keep that embedded in your human mind, round-ears.”
“What?! What did you call me?! Are you out of your mind?! Are you?!”
Scotty
reached out and grabbed Begay by his arm, pulling him back while Riley stood
strategically in front of him for restraint. Rand was shocked, and at first couldn’t find her voice to
address the chaos happening in front of her.
“Now, hold
on Mr. Spock,” she said, raising her palms up to the first officer. “There’s no need for that! We’re not
trying to go over your authority, or we wouldn’t have come to you with our
concerns…”
“Well, if
you ask me, we need to go over his authority now! This is crazy, and I’m for contacting the captain, pronto!”
said Riley looking squarely at the Vulcan while restraining Begay.
Spock stood
there, shaking his head slowly with the faintest smirk on his lips.
“For your
information, Mr. Riley, I spoke to the captain just a few moments before this
impromptu meeting, and he specifically told me that we were not to leave this
planet until we found the missing party. Those were his specific orders.”
“Well, I’d
sure feel a whole lot better if I heard those orders straight from the source,”
said Rand.
“If you are
in doubt about Starfleet Command’s orders, then you are invited to contact the
captain himself.”
And with
that, Spock uncrossed his arms, walked over to Dr. Begay for one last,
lingering look, and then left the meeting room. The rest of the landing party followed the science officer
with their eyes until he was out of sight, and hopefully out of earshot.
“Round-ears?!” Did you hear him call me that?!”
“Honestly
Mathias, I think that little dig was aimed at all of us. Spock’s the only one with pointed ears around here. Don’t take it personally,” said Riley.
He and
Scotty released Begay from the restraints; and Begay, though still angry,
lowered his head and slumped his shoulders, reassuring everyone that his need
for confrontation had lessened.
“Look, Mr.
Spock said we could call the captain for conformation on our orders. Let’s just do this and be done with
it!”
Rand reached
for her communicator and pulled it out of its holster. She flipped open its hatch and spoke
into its receiver.
“Yeoman Rand
to Enterprise, do you copy?”
Static.
She adjusted
the modules on the communicator, but the noise only got louder.
“Rand to
Enterprise, do you read?”
The static
grew thick, invasive, building up until it was almost deafening, then…
“What
happened? It just went dead! Is my communicator broken or
something?”
“Everyone
should try their communicators,” said Riley.
“Right
behind you,” said Begay.
Everyone
reached for their communicators and attempted to make contact with the
Enterprise, even Scotty, who used Morse Code to reach the ship.
Nothing.
The crewmen
passed glances at each other, apprehension and confusion marking their pale
faces, their shadowy eyes.
“I don’t
understand! If Mr. Spock spoke to
the captain just a few minutes ago, why can’t we reach him?” asked Rand.
Dr. Begay
shook his head.
“Let’s give
it another try,” he said.
They did
so.
And still…
Nothing.
“How in the
hell did Spock make contact? You
think maybe the communicators stopped working a few minutes after his own contact
with the captain?” pressed Rand.
“You think
he was telling the truth?” offered Riley.
More glances
among the circle of crewmen. Dr.
Begay let out a long frustrated breath and replaced his communicator.
“There’s
only one way to find out. We have
to ask him what’s going on,” he said.
Finding
nerves in numbers, they all headed to Mr. Spock’s quarters. Dr. Begay led the pack, with Rand close
behind him. They reached the
quarters of Mr. Spock, his door closed, like before.
Begay took
the initiative and called the first officer.
“Mr.
Spock! Mr. Spock, we’d like to
speak with you please!”
There was no
answer.
“Mr. Spock!”
The doctor
reached for the door and tried to push it open, but it wouldn’t bulge.
“What
the…there’s no locks on any of the doors! Why doesn’t this door open?” he
asked.
Rand threw
her head back and laughed rather mirthlessly.
“What’s so
damn funny, Janice? We have to get
to the bottom of all this!” said Riley, clearly impatient with her sudden burst
of misplaced humor.
“Well, I
sure as shit don’t think Spock’s going to let us get to the bottom of
anything! He’s bolted the door
from the inside, obviously! He will not answer to us! Honestly, I doubt that he
ever spoke to the captain!”
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