Chapter Text
First Officer Spock was a man of immaculate countenance that was never lighted by a smile; cold, firm and embarrassed in discourse; unpracticed in sentiment; lean, long, dusty, dreary and yet somehow lovable. At friendly meetings, and when the company was to his taste, something eminently human beaconed from his Vulcan eyes; something indeed which never found its way into his talk, but which spoke not only in silent symbols of the after-mission face but more often and clearly in the activities of his life. He was austere with himself; drank tea when he was alone, to suppress the thoughts of the day; and though he enjoyed the same leisure as many others, he never let it show. But he had an approved tolerance for others; sometimes wondering, almost with envy, at the high emotionality of humans involved in their characteristics; and in any extremity was inclined to observe rather than to scold. “Doctor, as ever your human emotions drive you,” he used to say quaintly: “intriguing how you manage to get anything done at all.”
In this morality, it was frequently his fortune to be a careful thinker and the last stable influence in the decisions of the captain, Who often came to his quarters for reassurance, although Spock never marked a shade of change in his demeanour.
No doubt the feat was easy for Mr. Spock; for he was undemonstrative at best, and even his friendship seemed to be founded in a similar foundation of logic. It is the mark of a Vulcan to accept his friends ready-made from the hands of opportunity, and that was Spocks' way. His friends were those with whom he worked or those whom he knew the longest. his affections, like ivy, were the growth of time, they implied no clear similarity. Hence, no doubt the bond that united him to Captain James T. Kirk, his most loyal friend, the well-known tease.
Dr McCoy had often asked, “What could you two possibly see in each other?”, or “What do you and that hobgoblin even talk about?” It was reported by those who observed them on the bridge, that they said nothing, but looked at each other with a glint in their eye as if they knew what the other was thinking. Despite protocol, the two men spent every away mission by each other's side, putting the greatest importance on preventing the other from harm. They would meet every Thursday, for chess, counting these meetings the chief jewel of each week, and not only set aside occasions of pleasure but even resisted the calls of women, so that they could enjoy them uninterrupted.
It chanced on one the way to one of these meetings that their way led them down the hall at a busy hour after dinner. The corridor was small and quiet, but it would be thriving at any minute with crewmembers retiring for bed. Those who did move along it were all doing well, it seemed and all earnestly hoping to do better still, heading to the labs, down to engineering or up to their quarters; so that the doors open and closed with that swish of invitation, like rows of smiling saleswomen. Even on days when it was quiet and lay comparatively empty of passage, the hall shone out in contrast to its stress-filled work environments nearby, like a star in the sky; and with its freshly painted doors, New carpetry, and general cleanliness and joviality of a new ship and new mission, instantly caught and pleased the eye Kirk who felt that the crew could be no better than it was.
Two doors from one corner, on the left-hand side; were the quarters of the ‘cargo’. The door, Spock could feel was equipped with a bell that was no different from any other, yet radiated an energy which was blistered and distained. the red panel was just as bright but an eerieness was dominating from the edges; something was amiss; the medical ambassador had been on board for three days ship time; he had not come out since arrival. And anyone who knocked had gotten no answer, no one had appeared to drive away these random visitors or to repair their worries.
Kirk and Spock were on the other side of the corridor; but when they came towards the entry, the former lifted his finger and pointed.
“What has become of the ambassador? He has not exited his quarters in 3.2 days,” he asked.
Kirk replied, “Except once.” he added, “A very odd story Mr Spock.”
“Indeed?” said Spock, with a slight change of voice, “and when was this?”
“Well, it was this way,” returned the Captain, “I was coming back from meeting with Bones, about three o’clock in the early hours, still ships night, and my way lay through a part of the ship where there was nothing to be seen but long hallways and florescent lights. Door after door and everyone asleep— hall after hall, all lighted up as if for a procession and all as empty as a cemetery —till at last I got into that state of mind when a man listens and listens and begins to long for the sight of a familiar crewmember.
All at once, I saw two figures: one a stern man stomping down the hall at a steady pace and another; a female crew-men pacing as swiftly as she was able down an intersecting corridor. Well, the two ran into one another naturally enough at the corner; and then came the strange part of the thing; for the ambassador trampled calmly over the woman's body and left her startled on the ground. It sounds nothing to hear, but it was hellish to see. He wasn’t like a man; he was like some kind of Juggernaut. I called McCoy over the intercom before I took to my heels, collared him, and brought him back to where the doctor and a group of security officers were conferring in a group. The Ambassador Hyde was perfectly cool and made no resistance, but gave me one look, so ugly that it brought out the sweat on me like running.
Well, the lieutenant was not much the worse, more frightened, according to Bones; But there was one curious circumstance. I had taken a loathing to the medical ambassador at first sight. So had the injured lieutenant, which was only natural. But the doctor’s case was what struck me. He was like the rest of us; every time he looked at Ambassador Hyde, I saw that Bones turned sick and white with the desire to kill him. I knew what was in his mind, just as he knew what was in mine; and killing being out of the question, we did the next best. We told the man we could and would make such court-martial out of this as should make his name stink from one end of the federation to the other. If he had any reputation or any credit, we discussed that he should lose them. And all the time, as we were pitching it in red hot, we were keeping the security off him as best we could for they were as wild as lions. I've never seen a circle of such hateful faces; and there was the man in the middle, with a kind of black sneering coolness—frightened too, I could see that—but carrying it off, Spock, really like a snake. ‘If you choose to make capital out of this accident,’ said he, ‘I am naturally helpless. I wish to avoid a scene,’ says he. ‘Name your figure.’
Well, we screwed him up to a hundred credits for the compensation; he would have liked to stick out; but there was something about the lot of us that meant mischief, and at last, he struck. The next thing was to get the money; and where do you think he took us but to the door?—typed in the code, went in, and momentarily came back with the matter of 10 credits in cash and a cheque for the balance on the rest, drawn payable to bearer and signed with a name that I can’t mention, though it’s one of the points of my story, it was a name so prestigious and often printed. The figure was stiff, but the signature was good for more than that if it was genuine. I took the liberty of pointing out to him that the whole business looked fictitious and that a man does not, in real life, walk into a door at four in the morning and come out with another man’s cheque for close upon a hundred credits. But he was perfectly easy and sneering. ‘Set your mind at rest,’ says he, ‘I will stay with you and authenticate it with the ship's computer.’So we all set off, doctor McCoy, lieutenant, Ambassador Hyde and myself, and, went as a group to the interrogation room. I gave in the cheque myself and I had every reason to believe it was a forgery, a man even with his status loses his credibility when he assaults a member of my crew but No. The cheque was genuine.”
“Interesting,” said Spock with a quirk of his eyebrow.
“I see you feel as I do,” said Kirk. “it’s a bad story. Ambassador Hyde is a man who was certainly respected before this ordeal but in person a damnable man; and the person who drew the cheque is the very meaning of respectable, celebrated too. Blackmail, I suppose; an honest man paying through the nose for some of the capers of his youth. Though even that, is far from explaining everything,” he added and fell into a vein of musing.
From this he was recalled by Mr Spock asking rather suddenly: “And you do not know if the drawer of the cheque is involved professionally with the ambassador?”
“It occurred to me” returned Jim. “But I happen to know that he is currently on some planet or other doing some kind of important medical research.”
“And he had never mentioned any friendship or partnership in the past?” inquired Spock.
“No,” was the reply. “It has been a long time since we've spoken, however, I don't know if I could ask anyhow. I make it a rule not to risk bad relations.”
Spock paused.
The pair walked on again for a while in silence; towards Kirk's quarters and then “Jim,” said Spock, “that’s a good rule of yours.”
“Yes, I think it is,” returned the captain.
“But for all that,” continued the first officer, “I have one query. I want to ask the motives of Ambassador Hyde .”
“Well,” said Mr. Enfield, “I too would like to know Mr Spock. There was something wrong with his appearance; something displeasing, something downright detestable. I never saw a man I so disliked, and yet I don't know why. He’s an extraordinary-looking man, and yet I really can't name anything out of the way. ”
Mr Spock again walked some way in silence and obviously under a weight of consideration. “You are sure he is the true ambassador?” he inquired at last.
“Spock…” began Kirk, surprised out of himself.
“Yes, I know,” said Spock “The fact is, if I do not ask you the name of the other party, because I am aware already. You see, Jim, your account is troubling. If you have been inexact at any point you had better correct it now”
“I think you might have warned me,” returned the other with a touch of humour. “But I have been pedantically exact, as you call it. It is him. Every possibility has been checked before his arrival.”
Spock sighed softly but didn't say a word, and the captain presently resumed. “say nothing, that's an order,” he said. “Let's not worry the crew until it is absolutely necessary.”
“Logical captain,” said Spock. “I will treat this as confidential among those who are not involved already.”