Mudd's Angels Read online

  "My business is with you!" Kirk snapped. "See to the ladies, Mister Spock." He nodded to the women, again feeling the palpable wave of attraction. "If you'll follow my First Officer—"

  "I detect a note of Puritanism in you, Captain," said Walsh. "Not uncommon in lonely ship captains." He grinned again. "You can rest easy. I absolutely guarantee the purity, the virtue, the high moral standards of these delicious—"

  "Thank you, Mister! So noted!" said Kirk with ill-suppressed fury. He turned to the ladies. "If you'll follow my First Officer—"

  "Captain." The voice was lustrous and low. The planes of her cheeks gave her wide eyes the hint of a slant. A faint rose flush colored her golden face as she looked deep into Kirk's eyes.

  "I'm Eve," she said. "And we'd much rather stay." Her smile was intimate—meant for him alone. The sudden dimples that showed briefly promised laughter and joy—just for him. He swallowed.

  Spock came to his rescue. He opened the cabin door, saying, "This way, please, ladies…"

  What was it about her eyes that wouldn't let his go? Kirk was faintly aware that Walsh was enjoying his struggle. Spock, urging the women through the door, raised an eyebrow, and Kirk found himself released—and angry.

  Walsh, with one last satisfied glance at the closed door, turned briskly, forestalling Kirk's first question. "Well, Captain, how could I know this was a starship—me with a cargo of lovelies aboard? A strange vessel looms up; naturally I tried to evade you."

  Kirk waited. Let the fat man say his piece.

  "Starship captain or no, you exceeded your rights, chasing me and mine into an asteroid shower!" said Walsh.

  "Your name, please," said Kirk.

  "Walsh, Leo Walsh. And you cost me my vessel. It—"

  "Mister Walsh, I'm convening a ship's hearing on your actions. Mister Spock will supply you with any legal information you require for your defense. That will be all, sir."

  Walsh shook his head sadly. "You're a hard-nosed one, Captain."

  "And you're a liar, Mister Walsh. I think we both understand each other." He spoke into the intercom. "Security!"

  When the guard appeared, Kirk said, "Escort Mister Walsh to quarters. He's to remain confined."

  Walsh strolled after the guard, his bearing that of a man who has not yet summoned all his arcane resources—resources far beyond the grasp of a simple starship captain.

  … So her name was Eve. A name that had meant trouble from the beginning, and looked as if it had every intention of continuing. He rubbed his cheek. A shave; that's what he needed. A shave and some time to sort out the disturbing implications of this situation.

  Spock had seen the disturbing elements to their cabin. He was supervising the bridge when Sulu and Farrell emerged from the elevator. Farrell stumbled as he went toward this station, looking utterly dazed.

  Sulu caught his arm, and snapping his fingers in front of Farrell’s eyes, said, "You're on duty, Johnny-o. Back to reality."

  Farrell tumbled into his chair. "You can feel their eyes when they look at you. Like something grabbing hold of you. You notice that?" Farrell looked at Sulu, and at his console, seeing neither.

  "I noticed," nodded Sulu. "How I noticed."

  Spock eyed them curiously as they settled into position. The mating instinct of human beings was a rather unattractive mystery… and extraordinarily obsessive.

  "We've got trouble, Mister Spock." Scott's voice was low and urgent. "One dilithium crystal left —and it's got a hairline split at the base."

  "Rig a bypass circuit, Mister Scott."

  "I can't, sir. We blew the whole converter assembly."

  Spock looked up sharply; this was likely to be serious. He opened the intercom to the Captain's cabin. "Spock here, Captain. You're needed on the bridge."

  The guard in the Briefing Room was doing his best not to look at the three faces who sat at the table. It was the most difficult assignment of his life to date. But he held his ground when Walsh, entering with some stained papers in his hand, said, "Mind waiting outside, buddy boy?"

  The guard didn't like being addressed as "buddy boy" to start with, and he had his orders,

  "Sorry, sir."

  Walsh hesitated. Then, joining the women, he spoke to them carefully. "The three of you, answer any questions you're asked. Don't lie—you don't have to. And don't submit to a—" He glanced at the guard. "Being healthy, you don't need a medical exam, do you, girls?"

  The guard thought privately that nothing so glowing could be unhealthy. Seemed silly to be making such a point of it.

  The women nodded. "But what if they ask us about—" said the blonde sprite in the pale blue and silver tunic.

  "They won't," Walsh said hastily. He turned toward the guard again. "Don't you have some place to go, lad?"

  He'd not be off duty for another hour. He stood his ground.

  The smoky dark girl said tensely, "They'll notice. They'll notice we're dif—"

  Walsh whirled, cutting her off. "They won't. Leave the answering to me, Ruthie—all of you, loves. We'll get—"

  Eve said, "Where will we get? We don't have a ship, we're heading the wrong way, Harry…"

  "Sst!" Walsh hissed. "Leo—Leo Walsh!" He remarked loudly to the guard, "They're lovely, aren't they, lad? As long as they think lovely and smile… they'll come out on top somewhich-way, right?" He stood so the girls could see his face, but the guard could not, "My promise on it!" The women settled back—Walsh's yellow smile took in both guard and girls.

  Kirk entered the bridge at a run.

  "The entire ship's power is feeding through one crystal, sir." Spock was grave.

  "Then we switch to bypass circuits."

  "They burned out when we superheated, Captain. That jackass Walsh not only wrecked his own vessel, but in saving his skin we—"

  "If it makes you feel any better, Mister Scott, that's one jackass we're going to see skinned," said Kirk.

  "It's frustrating, sir. Almost a million gross tons of vessel depending on a hunk of crystal the size of my fist," grumbled the engineer.

  Spock said, "And that crystal won't last long —not pulling all our power through it." He paused. "One alternative possibility, Captain. There is a dilithium mining operation on Rigel Twelve—high-grade ore, I've heard."

  "Location and distance?"

  "Mister Farrell has the course, sir. Less than two days' run."

  Kirk glanced at the quiet face of his First Officer. Then he swung to the Navigator's station. "Make for Rigel Twelve, Mister Farrell." He rose from the command chair. "Let's go—there's still that jackass to skin!"

  Eve's clear, fathomless eyes were on him as he entered the Briefing Room. He was too conscious of her presence for ease of mind. Masking his feelings under cool formality he took his place between Spock and McCoy. "This hearing is convened," he said.

  At his nod to Spock, a bright light focused on Walsh's face; the computer hummed. The fat man stirred uneasily.

  "State your name for the record," said Spock.

  "Walsh—Leo Walsh." said the man firmly.

  A mechanical voice said, "Incorrect," as a buzzer sounded. The man Walsh half-rose from his chair, startled.

  "Your correct name," Spock said.

  Walsh sank back. "Gentlemen, if you're going to take the word of a soulless mechanical device over that of a flesh-and-blood—"

  The computer voice interrupted. "Full data coming on screen."

  The dark girl bit her lip. She leaned toward the fat man. "If it can read our minds—"

  The man brushed her aside. "No, it can't! Just what's on record, the blasted tin-plated…"

  The viewing screen clicked and produced a sharp photograph of Walsh, lines of information appearing beneath it

  "State your correct name for the record," said Spock, again.

  "Harry Mudd," grumbled the corpulent commander.

  Buzz.

  "Incorrect"

  "Harcourt Fenton Mudd." He squirmed in his seat.

&nbs
p; "Any past offenses, Mister Mudd?" said Spock.

  "Of course not! I'm a decent, honest—"

  Buzz… "Incorrect. Offense record: Smuggling, sentence suspended. Transport of stolen goods. Purchase of space vessel with counterfeit currency. Sentenced to psychiatric treatment. Effectiveness disputed."

  The screen was still moving along the lines of text.

  Kirk said, his voice sounding almost as cold as the computer's, "Mister Mudd, you are charged with galaxy travel without flight plan, without identification and with failing to answer a starship signal, thus effecting a menace to navigation…"

  "A ship the size of mine in a galaxy the size of this, a menace to navigation?" Mudd said indignantly.

  "You are also charged with operating a space vessel without master's papers."

  "I have a master's ticket!" shouted Mudd, sweating.

  "Incorrect. Master's license revoked Star Date 1116.4."

  "All right! Leo Walsh, who was to be my captain for this trip, passed away sudden. I had no choice—I had to take 'er out my own self. That's why I used his name—in memoriam. Fine man, Walsh, gone to his reward."

  Kirk said, "Destination and purpose of journey?"

  Triumphantly, Mudd answered, "Planet Ophiucus Six. Wiving settlers."

  "Say that again, Mudd? Doing what?" Kirk was sure he had not heard correctly.

  "I recruit wives for settlers." Mudd gestured at the three girls, watching with wide eyes. "A most difficult, but satisfying…"

  "Data on witnesses, please," said Kirk, watching Mudd. Spock touched a control.

  "… Marooned, isolated, no little woman to look after them…"

  A light probed the three women's faces, as they flinched away. The computer hummed, buzzed erratically, and emitted a piercing squeal. The puzzled Spock, making an adjustment, removed the squeal.

  Buzz-honk. "Nonononono datadata."

  Kirk impatiently ordered the computer to go to sensor probe. Obediently, the note of the humming changed, faded and squealed again. "Any unusual readings?" Spock made further adjustments.

  Eeee-hum buzz. "No decipherable reading on females. However, unusual readings on male board members. High respiration patterns perspiration rates abnormally high, heartbeat rapid, blood pressure abnormal…"

  "Sufficient!" snapped Kirk.

  The light turned on Mudd, the hum of the computer quieted. Mudd said smugly, "You see, gentlemen? Simply three lovely ladies. Destined for frontier planets, to give lonely men the companionship they need, the warmth of a human touch—marriage, a home, a family. I look upon my work as a public service—I've given my life to it!"

  Buzz. "Incorrect."

  Mudd made a fast revision. "Uh—I am now giving my life to the work." There was no buzz. Mudd smiled a yellow smile.

  Kirk glanced at McCoy, who briefly met his eye and returned to his rapt contemplation of Ruth's dark eyes.

  "Did you ladies come voluntarily?" asked Kirk.

  "They did indeed!" said their self-appointed guardian. "Ruthie comes from a pelagic planet, all sea ranches. Magda there came from Halium Experimental Station…"

  Eve's blue eyes were flashing. She stood up. "The same story, all of us, Captain. No men. Mine was a farm planet, with automated machines for company, two brothers to cook for and mend for—canal mud a foot thick on their boots each time they walked in," she said bitterly.

  "That's fine, Evie. That'll do," said Mudd.

  "No, it's not fine and it won't do! We've got husbands waiting and you're taking us the wrong way—eyeing us like we were Saturnian harem girls, or even—"

  "That's enough, Eve!" Mudd shouted.

  The girl smoothed back her golden hair with a slim hand and, sighing, resumed her seat.

  "The only charges here are against Mister Mudd. Have you any defense to offer relating to these charges?"

  "Only heaven's own truth, which I gave you," said Mudd sullenly.

  Kirk rose. "This hearing is closed. Mister Mudd will be handed over to legal authorities at our earliest opportunity."

  "And us?" said Eve, slipping out of her chair. She was suddenly close. "What happens to us? Help me." Her eyes caught his, held them. "Help all of us." He found his hand in hers. She was so lovely, alone and unprotected, in the hands of that villain Mudd—and he caught the angle of Spock's amused eyebrow. He disengaged his hand politely.

  The lights went out.

  "It's the last crystal," said Scott. "It's gone, sir."

  The darkened screen beeped and blurred. The anxious face of Sulu appeared dimly. "Captain, Engineering Section reports that our entire life support system is now operating on battery alone."

  The battery system could not sustain this drain for long. Kirks massive responsibilities flooded back in on him. The lives of his crew were at stake, Mudd's "cargo" was in a state of desperation, the ship itself was crippled. "Mister Spock," he said, "Open contact immediately with the miners on Rigel Twelve!" Mudd visibly pricked up his waxy ears. "Advise them we'll need dilithium crystals immediately upon landing."

  Alone in the briefing room with the girls, Mudd flung his arms wide in an ecstasy of triumph. "Oh, you beautiful galaxy! Oh, you heavenly universe!" he cried.

  The women stared blankly. He beamed at them.

  "Lithium miners! Don't you understand? Lonely, isolated wealthy lithium miners! They make diamond and platinum miners look like children digging for seashells! I'll be the richest —" He caught sight of Eve's expression, between enlightenment and rage. "No, no, all of us. You girls want husbands? Not a mere ship's captain, Evie, I'll give you a man that can buy a whole province—a whole planet! Maggie, you'll be a countess! Ruth, a duchess, at least!

  "And Harry Mudd—?" His fat little eyes took on a wicked gleam. "I'll be running this starship, Captain Kirk. You'll be taking your orders from me!"

  Ruth leaned against the doorway of Sickbay. The crewman with the tool kit and McCoy murmured over the body function instrument panel. They nodded, and the crewman replaced the hand tools in his kit, closed it and rose. He turned toward the door, and stopped. Ruth met his eyes.

  The doctor felt the tension. He glanced around. Ruth said, "May I come in?"

  As she smiled dazzlingly at McCoy, he stammered, "By all means, yes, do!"

  She dropped her head and looked at him through her long black hair. McCoy belatedly realized that the crewman was still goggling. "Aren't you finished, Connors?"

  The crewman offered a limp smile and a mumble and slowly pulled himself out the door. The flustered McCoy collected himself as Ruth's sea-green-clad body moved into the room.

  "I was wondering what this looked like, Doctor. It's fascinating. What's this screen for?" As she passed the newly repaired panel, a light blinked. McCoy threw it a surprised glance. "I wanted to see where you work, Doctor McCoy…" she smiled again.

  McCoy was torn between the smile and the blinking light. But if she passed the panel again, she would becoming toward him…

  "Would you cross that panel again, Ruth?"

  She stopped; was she dismayed? "Why? You're not giving me an examination, are you?"

  McCoy shook his head. "Oh, no. I wouldn't trust my— ' He broke off hastily to change the word "self" to "—judgment." But Ruth grinned with perfect comprehension. "Believe me—just come this way."

  The light flashed again. McCoy frowned. "It's not supposed to do that. I've just had it fixed."

  "I've been wondering," said Ruth, coming closer. "Will you be examining the miners on Rigel Twelve, doctor?"

  McCoy was flipping switches on the body function panel. He was puzzled. "If they need it," he said absently.

  "Well, haven't you asked?" said Ruth. "I mean, are they all in good health?"

  "What? Oh. Yes, excellent. All three."

  "Three?" breathed Ruth. It was like magic; three and three.

  "Are you wearing some unusual perfume? Or something radioactive?"

  Ruth's laugh was so full of delight that he swung round to look at her. And lo
ok again, at dark eyes brimming with pleasure.

  "No," she said, "I'm just—me. Isn't it enough?"

  He forgot about the blinking light

  Magda was listening raptly to Farrell, her pale hair like silver to his copper. This was a woman who knew how to listen to a man describing his work. She was just as interested in the Enterprise communications system as she'd been in its navigation problems. Even the speed of signals passing through space, a difficult and technical matter, seemed to intrigue her. His stride took on a new firmness as passing crewmen eyed his companion with lean and hungry looks.

  Eve was on a private errand. She had located the Captain's cabin and was curled up on his bed when he opened the door.

  She uncurled hastily, at his expression. "I hope you don't mind?" she said timidly.

  He did mind, he thought, but not very much. "As a matter of fact, Miss McHuron, I have—"

  "I was trying to take a walk, Captain. And I just had to hide somewhere. The way your men were looking at me, following me with their eyes…" She rose gracefully, smoothing her brief skirt, ineffectually pulling it down to cover her long golden legs.

  "I'm sorry," said Kirk. "They don't ordinarily offend in this manner, Miss McHuron. But somehow, in your case, and the other ladies with you…

  "They're probably just lonely," she said softly, looking up at him with eyes that drew him closer. "I can understand loneliness."

  Kirk broke the spell of her eyes with a wrench. "Yes, uh, would you—"

  She touched his arm, and his eyes were compelled back to the bright mystery between her eyelashes. "I suppose you understand it even better, Captain, running a huge ship like this, so much responsibility every minute. And the men look up to you so." Kirk's collar was feeling tight again. He shuffled his feet.

  "It probably appears more difficult than it is," he mumbled.

  "I read once that a commander has to be a paragon of virtue. I've never met a paragon." she said with a laugh that sounded like music.

  "Uh, neither have I," said Kirk, managing a mere gulp.

  "Of course not. Nobody ever has. But some try to pretend. Do you, Captain?"