Mudd's Angels Page 10

  "All right, Harry, you've made your point," conceded Kirk. "Now tell us what happened to the Stellas we left to guard you?"

  Mudd sighed. "I grew very, very weary of her voice. I never was anything but weary of her voice. Either they shut her up, or I went mad, that's what I told them. So they—cooled her off."

  "Out of pity?" said McCoy ironically.

  "Compassion, laddie, compassion. You wanted me to suffer; they could not bear to watch my torment."

  "You talked them out of it," said Spock.

  "But you said you turned her—them—into a spaceship?"

  "Recycled, dear boy, recycled. All my ships are Stella now. Interstella, Stella Sapphire, Dark Stella, Evening Stella…" Mudd smirked.

  "And now the real question, Mudd," said Kirk quietly, as the aircar circled Landing Field Fifty-seven. "Kindly explain the connection between you, this… weird consortium, that's been traced to this planet, and the dilithium crystal shortage. And I want a straight answer, Harry!"

  "I'm a businessman, laddie. A salesman. I sell," began Mudd.

  Losing patience altogether, Kirk shouted. "What do you sell?"

  "Androids, of course."

  "Female androids," said McCoy.

  "Of course."

  "Incorrigible!"

  "Well, why not? There's still that great hungry market out there, all those outposts of mankind, poor lonely men grinding and working, year after year without companionship, slowly drowning in their own dirt. Oh, I make myself weep sometimes, just thinking about it." Mudd drew a none-too-clean sleeve over his eyes. "Android women are very adaptable. And they present no difficulties with their appearance, either."

  "You just can't stop selling women, can you?" said Kirk with loathing.

  "You wound me, Captain, you really wound me. Androids are not people!" said Mudd, aggrieved. "Surely you, of all people should know that I have been taught a lesson. One cannot trade in human beings. That would be immoral. But these robots didn't belong to anybody, their Makers had vanished. They need to belong to somebody. It makes them feel secure."

  Spock stared. "Mudd, sometimes I can follow your rather baroque trains of thought. But machines do not feel a need for security. Try that again."

  "But they do, Spock laddie. You don't understand them as I do," replied Mudd earnestly.

  Spock shook his head, as if to clear it. "Either these androids are machines, in which case they do not have feelings—and, Captain, they can be classed as salable property; or, they are sentient beings and cannot be anyone's property. Kindly repair your argument."

  "Try thinking of them as rather clever animals, Spock," offered Mudd kindly. "That may help you out. And they're still salable."

  Weinberg's voice burst tinnily from the communicator. "There was a time when that line was applied to anyone unlucky enough to have been captured and enslaved. The feelings of animals didn't matter—even long after the slave and his grandchildren were free!"

  McCoy said soberly, "That’s sadly true. We have progressed enough to allow the rights of sentient beings to all intelligent life-forms. In those days, slaves were allowed to have souls occasionally, but treated as non-beings. Do androids have souls, Spock?"

  "That is not my department, Doctor. I have never encountered a satisfactory definition. But these androids are delightfully clear thinkers."

  "Why is this discussion getting so theological?" said Mudd plaintively. "The fact is that there was a whole planetful of ownerless machines here, and plenty of capacity to produce more. And there's no law against selling machinery. My ownership is indisputable—all my business enterprises are registered legally."

  "What prices do you get for androids, Mudd?"

  "Sufficient, laddie, sufficient. Have you a warrant to audit my books?"

  "They must be very expensive. Kilotons of dilithium crystals, for instance," Kirk persevered.

  "Of course my girls—uh, machines—are expensive. Look at the design. Look at the workmanship. And you wouldn't believe the overhead…"

  "And in what coin do your customers pay?"

  "Ah, that's another story." Mudd took on a mournful air. "Poor, lonely lads, they don't always have many credits. But"—he brightened— "they have the fruits of their labors to sell, sometimes. Yes, Captain, I've picked up many a strange load on many a far planet. I could tell you stories—"

  "Dilithium crystals," said Kirk firmly.

  "Why do you keep harping on dilithium crystals? What are they, some kind of jewel? Have I missed something?"

  The car climbed, and banked over a low range of hills.

  "Your memory is failing, Harry. You know very well what they are. And Star Fleet is not pleased about this shortage. Not pleased at all."

  Harry Mudd shrugged. "My heart is wrung, laddie, really wrung. But there's not a thing I can do for Star Fleet. Have you seen enough of Liticia? Shall we go home and freshen our drinks?"

  "If you can manage to refrain from doping us. But here or on the ground, we're going to get some answers out of you… Come in, Yeoman Weinberg. Have you been listening?"

  "Yea, sir. A very interesting discussion, sir. Lieutenant Uhura agrees."

  "Lieutenant Uhura?"

  Two voices replied. "Yes, sir?"

  "You've got an echo. Clear your line."

  "Is this better, sir?"

  "No, Lieutenant, it is not."

  "She's right here, sir. I don't think she can reach her equipment from here," said Weinberg.

  "Lieutenant? I didn't give you permission to beam down."

  "I didn't, sir. I'm right here at my station," came a slightly indignant answer.

  "But she's right here next to me at the—the Mahal, sir," said Weinberg, sounding bewildered.

  "Mudd, what's going on?" said Kirk in dangerous tones.

  "A little surprise for you," said the fat man hastily. "I was saving it for later. Just a moment." The aircar drifted to a stop in the courtyard. The glideway slid from the door, and Kirk, seizing Mudd by the collar of his pink jerkin, pushed him out of the car.

  "Ooof. You've been putting on weight again. Now, what's all this about Uhura? Where is she?"

  Yeoman Weinberg ran up to meet them. On his heels followed the veiled houri; there was a familiar laugh. A slim hand reached up and touched veiling, and as it dropped, Uhura's superb tawny face smiled out from the draperies.

  "A replica, Captain. You may recall, we had your Uhura's specifications. Our Aruhu is really a charming personality—so like your officer, but perhaps a little more… accessible," Mudd purred.

  "Lieutenant Uhura, aboard the Enterprise," Kirk called.

  "Sir, what's going on, please?" Uhura sounded, reasonably, concerned.

  "They've made an android copy of you."

  "Of me? Why?"

  "Mudd likes you."

  "Huh. Can she sing?"

  "Of course I can." The "Aruhu" began a low, oddly cadenced melody. Uhura, on the Enterprise, joined in after a surprised moment.

  "At last I have done something that pleases you," said Mudd, expanding visibly. "They do sound pretty in duet, don't they? How about a choir? Shall I summon the other sixty-seven?"

  Uhura broke off and squeaked. "Sixty-seven? Of me? … Oh, that's too much, sir. I don't like it, Captain. It's—it's almost insulting!"

  There was an uncomfortable silence. Weinberg broke it.

  "You mean they can duplicate anybody?"

  "They can, obviously," said Kirk.

  "Then why can't he be a replica, too?" said Weinberg, indicating Mudd.

  Kirk blinked. Spock and McCoy exchanged glances. "There's one way to find out!" McCoy grabbed his medical tricorder and flipped it open. And Harry Mudd ran, much too fast for a fat man, through the open gate at the end of the courtyard. Kirk and Spock sped off after him at top speed, but when they reached the gate, he was out of sight. "Spock, you go toward those trees; McCoy, well go that way…" As Kirk was starting off in pursuit, a voice behind them spoke. "Ah, what a pity. I'm afraid tha
t unit had a faulty panic button. But it did very well with dialogue, didn't it?"

  Mudd stood there in the yard, smiling ruefully. Kirk became aware of fury. There seemed to be no end to this runaround, and no answers. "All right, Mudd Number-whatever-you-are, no more playing games. Give us some information. Where are the dilithium crystals and what's happened to the real Harry Mudd?"

  "What are these dilithium crystals, Captain?" Kirk moved threateningly toward the chubby android who so resembled Mudd. "Don't give me that! They are the crystals Mudd—or you—have been collecting from the miners in exchange for the females. Now where are they?"

  "Captain, I remind you that it is useless to threaten us physically. Let us be reasonable. We have recently been learning much about law. Harry Mudd talks of little else. Writs, sir. Subpoenas, sir. Habeas Corpus and mandamus. Have you these in hand? For if not, we need answer no questions. So we have been told."

  "Spock!" said Kirk desperately. "Do we have writs and mandamuses?"

  "Captain, I believe that our commission from Star Fleet constitutes a legal mandamus over this planet, as it is within United Federation territory."

  "Is this a belief or a fact, Mister Spock?" said the android anxiously. "If it is a matter of faith, it carries no recognizance, but if incontestable fact, our position is de jure rather than de facto."

  "What's he saying, Mister Spock?" asked the bewildered Weinberg.

  "It looks like Mudd, it sounds like Mudd, but by the Ratiocination of Inn, it thinks like a Vulcan!" said Spock, with unwonted vigor. "If we have Federation authority to ask the questions, the answers are also authorized by the Federation. If necessary, we can produce a form of mandamus in locum tenens."

  "Mister Spock, are you enjoying this?" said McCoy incredulously.

  "You cannot appreciate the pleasures of rationality, Doctor. These beings are logical," said Spock.

  Kirk said patiently, "Now can we ask about the crystals?"

  Having observed that there had never been any prohibition nor constraint against the Captain's asking, and that, presumably, in his undisciplined way, the Captain was inquiring about answers, the android replied. "The Human Mudd is not comprehensible to us. His actions are only logical by his own logical constructs, based on his own peculiar premises. He was quite insistent about a course of action to which he referred as 'covering his tracks.' We do not see the necessity for this, following upon behavior in strict accordance with the law, but—"

  "Where did he go? Where are the crystals?" Kirk was beginning to feel that he would never in all his life be able to say anything else. Nor would anyone ever answer him.

  "You are impatient, sir. I was trying to proceed in an orderly fashion from one concept to the next. However, since you wish to omit the intervening steps. I will tell you that the Human Mudd has left this planet with his entire stock of dilithium crystals."

  "Where did he go? How?"

  "The Human Mudd gave us instructions to construct a ship rather more efficient than yours, and controllable by a small crew of androids and himself. It is essentially a highly maneuverable cargo ship, capable of great speeds. He insisted on giving it a name, instead of a nice, clean number," said the mechanical Mudd distastefully.

  "Where did he go?"

  "I cannot tell you that."

  "Just a minute, Captain," said Spock to the fuming Kirk. "You cannot tell us, due to lack of knowledge or to inhibition of programming?"

  "Lack of knowledge, Mister Spock. May I say that it is remarkably easy to communicate with you?" said the android.

  "Thank you," said Spock gravely. "It is not surprising, Captain, that Mudd avoided telling the, uh, local population where he was headed. He was able to program them to protect him up to a point, but even Mudd must have known that he was not sufficiently able to understand their logic to be able to secure their silence. No doubt he expected us to penetrate his smoke screens—he will have gained time, however."

  "Suppose the androids have to get in touch with him about the business?" asked Weinberg. "Can they reach him?"

  "It will not be necessary," said the android simply. "We are capable of managing this planet and its affairs without assistance from the Human Mudd."

  "Aren't you even curious?" said McCoy.

  "I believe that is an animal attribute, Doctor, not a mechanical one."

  "Define the need to deduce from evidence," said McCoy, challengingly. "Define, 'I believe.' "

  The android started to speak, and stopped. It turned to Spock. "I—you—I sense a paralysis in my logic circuits."

  "The need to deduce is wanting to know. That is curiosity," said Spock. The android quivered. "As to 'I believe'—a conversational phrase only in that context, doctor, without meaning."

  "Spock, I am not sure you are human at all, if faith is meaningless to you," said McCoy.

  "Either curiosity is an animal attribute or it is not," mused the android doubtfully. "If it is—" Abandoning philosophy for the moment, he said, "If this planet is subject to your legal authority, we must therefore assist you. Therefore we will override the orders that the Human Mudd left with us. In what way can we be of use?"

  The android led them back inside the Mudd Mahal. The girls had vanished, Weinberg was disappointed—and relieved—to note. Kirk explained, as they crossed a high-ceilinged hall, that the Enterprise and the other ships of the Fleet had already checked the planets likely to be ports-of-call for the Litician cargo ships, and there had been no sign of Mudd, or large quantities of crystals, in the vicinity. "His trail ends here," said Kirk.

  "He must have a hide-out somewhere," said McCoy.

  "Somewhere in the galaxy," said Weinberg. His words pointed out the hopelessness of their task.

  "Can we have a look at wherever he worked—if he did work?" asked the doctor. "Maybe we can ünd a clue there."

  "He had a habit of closeting himself in here, occasionally," said the android, opening a door. It led back into the "Sanctum."

  "What a place to try and concentrate!" said Spock with disgust, eying the sensuous movement of the fish and the play of lights.

  "He had access to the Central Computers from here." The android Mudd sank into the chair that had been occupied by the other replica, and lifted the covering from its right arm. A small console was embedded under the cushion. "He could, of course, control the sounds, lights and air composition from this, as well."

  "He couldn't have made a flight plan out of his head," said Weinberg.

  "No. He must have used the central computer.

  "Can we check its records?" asked Spock of the android.

  "Certainly, but it seems improbable that he would have confided his plans to the computer, if he was eager to remain hidden."

  "Spock, can't you inspire this lot of tinware to come up with something useful?" muttered McCoy.

  "Inspire, Doctor? You flatter me. But it is true that Mudd could not have planned his course without the computer. Can you check out all information retrieval records stored in its memory banks?" he asked of the android.

  The android nodded. "It will take some time. We will be glad to help you, since we dislike being under-informed. Perhaps you, and this medical gentleman who seems to think in the same framework as the Human Mudd, would direct us."

  "You are a rotten replica of Mudd," said McCoy.

  "All ships of the same model are not identical, Doctor. Come, let us expand the limits of our knowledge."

  "I still think they have no souls," muttered McCoy to Weinberg, who nodded politely.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  IT TOOK SEVERAL days to work through the information stored in the computer on Liticia. In the end, even Spock looked a little haggard. Mudd had indeed covered his tracks; all that could be found was a series of short gaps in the memory banks, where something had been asked, answered—and irrecoverably erased.

  Aboard the Enterprise hovering over the planet, officers and the android Mudd sat in dispirited conference.

  "Let's go through
it again," said Kirk tiredly. "We may have missed something. I would like to thank you, Mudd II, and all the androids who can communicate through you, for all your help.

  "Harry Mudd has escaped with the entire current supply of dilithium crystals, in a new and superior ship. He has a crew of androids, who are now out of touch with their home planet. We have no clue whatsoever as to where he was headed, nor what his intentions may be."

  "Female crew, naturally," remarked McCoy.

  "As you say, Doctor. The new vessel, the Superstella, is capable of speeds exceeding our own and, of course, has unlimited supplies of crystals. And it looks to me as if we will have to report failure to Star Fleet. Mister Spock?"

  "I'm sorry, Captain. You have stated the problem accurately."

  "Mudd—androids?"

  "We can add nothing further."

  "Anybody? What do we do now?"

  Into the ensuing silence, Uhura called tensely. "Captain!"

  The message from Star Fleet was unprecedented. The Klingon-Romulan League had approached the Federation, requesting a temporary alliance to deal with the dilithium crystal shortage. Ships of Star Fleet, and the great war armadas of Klingon and Romulan alike, were paralysed.

  And only the Enterprise had reported sufficient supplies of crystals on board to remain in operation for any reasonable time. "Therefore, by the authority of the Joint Council pro tern of the United Federation of Planets, the Klingon Empire and the Romulan Empire, the Enterprise is ordered to use any legitimate means at her disposal to procure the crystals from the present proprietor. Immediately. This is an emergency. Repeat. This is an emergency."

  Mr. Scott turned pale. "This means—'

  "The whole galaxy at a standstill. And only we have any chance of breaking it," said Kirk heavily.

  "Who would have thought one fat joker could cause such havoc?" said McCoy.

  "Engines silent, everywhere," mourned Scott. "Och, aye, nothing worrrking…"

  "Harcourt Fenton Mudd, a random element in an orderly universe," said Spock. "He has no connection with anything but himself, and is therefore totally unpredictable."