‘Tis Charity
to Show
Chapter VII
Part 1
Rand was
sick and tired of staring up at the ceiling. It had become a bad habit, almost like an addiction that
consumed her, but she’d become afraid of falling asleep. She simply couldn’t understand, for the
life of her, how otherwise astute and reasonable Starfleet personnel could be
oblivious to their plight one moment, and then, the next moment, be so keenly
aware of it.
Rand let out
a long, ragged breath and ran her fingers through her hair, which was fanned
out on the pillow. She knew
that she couldn’t count herself entirely blameless, as she’s been almost
completely swept away by all the hallucinations and apparitions like everyone
else, but the extreme sexual nature of her experiences have kept her from
confiding about them to anyone.
That scene
in the shower room changed all that.
Something
was going on that was distracting the landing party, keeping them dangerously
absorbed, isolated to their own illusions, and from one another, while whatever
it was ate away at what little faculties of reason they had left.
Rand
continued to gaze at the ceiling, at the wheel of light from Tijus’ moon
projecting from the blinds. She
thought back to Dr. Ellis’ logs, and how they degenerated into gibberish about
her childhood eczema. Clearly,
what was happening to this landing party had happened to the missing
archeological team.
Why the hell
didn’t she see this before?
Rand
chuckled.
Stupid
question, when you consider what’s been going on, she thought.
Rand
wondered if the physical deterioration of the crew was somehow connected to all
this; the pale skin, ragged eyes and weight loss.
Was all of
this connected to the team’s disappearance? Because if it was, that meant Rand needed to reach Spock, to
make him understand, before they became the subject of a search themselves.
She sprang
upright in her bed, her lips drawn firmly, her back firm and rigid.
“I don’t
give a shit,” she thought.
“I don’t
give a shit about his nastiness, his standoffishness, his blocking the bedroom
door! I’m talking to Spock, even
if I have to force him to listen!”
She flung
the bed sheets off her body, sprang from the mattress and hastened out her
bedroom door, not even bothering to close it behind as she headed for the hall
to Spock’s room.
“Hey, Janice!”
Rand
turned. It was Dr. Begay, coming
down from the other end of the hall, clad in his pajamas, slippers, and robe.
“You look
like a woman running out of a burning building! Where are you going?”
“I need to
talk to Spock.”
“You too?”
“Yeah. I can’t deal with his lack of action
anymore.”
“Hey, I
guess great minds think alike. You
can’t see him like that, though.”
“Like what?”
“Are you
kidding? You hardly have anything
on.”
Rand knew
she’d rushed out of her room without her robe and slippers, and that her
nightshirt only covered her from the top of her thighs.
“Oh, give me
a break, Mat. I’m not naked.”
“A break,
nothing. Put this on.”
He slipped
off his robe and held it out in front of him. Rolling her eyes, Rand stepped in front of the robe, turned
her back towards it, and put it on dutifully, tying the belt around her
waist. When she was finished, she
turned to Begay and, in jest, held up her arms for inspection.
“Am I
presentable now?” she smirked.
“Almost. Put these on your feet.”
Begay kicked
his slippers off his feet, and pushed them, with his heels, towards her.
“Your
slippers? Don’t be silly,
Mat. What about you?”
“You’d be
surprised how thick my calluses are.
Don’t worry about me. Put
them on.”
“Oh, such a
doctor,” Rand teased as she placed her feet in the slippers.
“Okay, let’s
go.”
“Finally.”
“Very
funny.”
They started
on their way hurriedly, asking each other about whether Spock would be
receptive to their concerns. When
they reached his door, Rand and Begay stood in front of it and simply looked at
each other. It was like the
one was waiting for the other to make the first move, to be the one to rap
their knuckles on the door.
“OK. I’ll let him know we’re here,” said
Begay finally, a slight crack in his voice.
“Don’t get
too nervous, Mat. Chances are he
won’t even answer,” Rand quipped.
“Then we’ll
stand here for as long as it takes,” he said, his nerve gathering back.
He pounded
on the door with the side of his fist, pushing aside any pretense of politeness.
“Mr.
Spock! Mr. Spock! Do you hear
me? Are you in there?”
“I can
indeed hear you, Doctor, and I am indeed here, as I would be nowhere else at
this hour.”
“Oh, my
God! I didn’t except it to be this
easy,” whispered Rand. “If this is
a real window of opportunity opening up here, let’s jump on through, I say!”
Mr. Spock,
I’m here with Yeoman Rand. We have
some real concerns about this mission that we feel need addressing. May we come in?”
“By all
means, if the matter is pressing.”
Rand’s smile
burst forth as Dr. Begay pushed pushed open the door to Spock’s room and
followed him in. They found Mr.
Spock in his long, black and gold trimmed robe, sitting erect in what appeared
to be the lotus pose. He was
situated in front of a small alter shrouded in a black cloth, with a small bowl
sitting on top of it. A long
crimson rug sat underneath both him and the alter.
“You must
excuse me. My faculties of
concentration have alluded me throughout most of this mission, so during the
few occasions I am able to settle my thoughts, I as you would say, grab hold of
the opportunity, if you will.”
Spock leaned
forward, placed his hands a few inches in front of him and hoisted himself up
slowly. There was fatigue etched
in his face, a heaviness under his eyes that made him appear aged, frail. He was thinner and paler like the rest
of the landing party, making the greenish undertone of his skin harsh, glaring,
almost cadaverous.
Spock moved
to the edge of his bed and sat down heavily, his shoulders slumped. Rand and Begay walked over to Spock and
stood over him, waiting.
“I must, in
all honestly, say that my behavior has been less than fitting of a Starfleet
officer, and that I am pleased that you are both here, so that you two may be
the first that I apologize to.”
“Less than
fitting is putting it mildly, but then Spock has always had a way of
understating things,” thought Rand.
Still, she
was moved by the gesture.
And downright relieved.
Whether Spock
was going to stay in his right mind was still in question, so Rand kept a
guarded optimism, as it would be stupid not to.
“That’s
actually why we’re here, Mr. Spock.
Everyone’s been under some kind of influence that induces these strange
behaviors. This grip has been so
strong that it’s distracted us almost to the point of our sabotaging this
mission, sir. And judging from Dr.
Ellis’ logs and the erratic swing they took, I believe that our behavior on
Tijus might be connected, in some way, to the disappearance of the expedition
members.”
Spock’s brow
cocked, his interest clearly peaked.
“I am
listening, Yeoman.”
“YOOOOOUUUUUUBAAASSSSTARD!!!”
The scream
was drawn out, wild and throaty.
Rand, Spock, and Begay turned to the door.
“What the
hell…”
“It sounds
like Rose!”
Spock was
the first out the door as the three of them bounded down the hallway to the
commotion in the meeting room.
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