Mudd's Angels Page 3

  Kirk felt himself growing almost dizzy. "Miss McHuron," he began, trying for firmness. Her soft amusement engulfed him, surrounded him, lit by her eyes—her wonderful, beautiful, mysterious, compelling eyes. His dignity was cracking into tiny little pieces when suddenly she whirled away from him, and closed her eyes.

  Something snapped. "No!" she said furiously. "I won't do it! I don't care what Harry Mudd says!"

  Kirk blinked; his mind and senses were spinning wildly.

  "I do like you!" she said fiercely, opening eyes that were pretty, and filling with tears. "I won't go through with it! I hate this whole thing!"

  She was gone before he could find any part of his wits.

  "Three of them," Mudd echoed. "You're sure that's what he said, Ruthie?"

  McCoy's enchantress nodded and turned eagerly to Magda. "The miners—they're all healthy, fairly young—"

  "Later," said Mudd. "Maggie, did you get to your communications man?"

  "Of course," said the small woman with a toss of her pale head. "The head miner's name is Ben Childress. The others are Gossett and Bention, and they've been there almost three years—alone!"

  "Three of them," murmured Mudd. "And three little brides has Harry Mudd…" He lumbered into a little jig step. "And dilithium crystals are worth three hundred times their weight in diamonds… thousands of times their weight in gold…"

  "But they'll be down there, and we'll be up here circling, a hundred miles away," said Ruth, cutting into his euphoria.

  "And there's a guard outside your door, Harry," Magda added. "You can't even get out of your cabin."

  Mudd slowed and stopped, deep in thought. Then his face cleared. "No, dear ladies. One more little job for you, and it won't be Harry Mudd that's trapped! It'll be a certain gentleman named James T. Kirk."

  As he spoke the name, Eve edged into the cabin and dropped heavily into a chair. The tears still shining on her cheeks, she said, "I don't like you, Harry. And I'm not happy with myself either."

  Mudd nodded. "Yes. I saw you noticing the Captain."

  "We're supposed to notice them!" she flared at him. Her rebellious anger dissipated in a sigh; she leaned her head tiredly on her hand. "I don't feel very well, Harry. I think we're near the time."

  Solicitous, Mudd consulted a small watch as it appeared from his pocket. "No, we've got a while yet."

  "Then I need a rest," said Eve. "I'm going to my cabin."

  "To dream about the Captain?" said Mudd, mockingly.

  She rose and went to the door. "Perhaps."

  At his station on the bridge, Farrell was dreaming of blue-and-silver miracles. Kirk's irritated voice cut through the fog of his thoughts.

  "Mister Farrell, I asked for a pre-orbital course!"

  Farrell woke up, sheepishly. Quickly adjusting a control he said, "Pre-orbital course locked in, sir."

  Kirk swung his chair around to face all stations. "Gentlemen, that is the last order I'm going to give twice. Will you kindly make an effort to direct your attention to the operation of this ship? We are now down to battery power—and it's running low!"

  A worried Scott spoke. "The battery power will get us to Rigel Twelve, Captain. But it may be unable to maintain the orbit."

  "Hang us up there long enough to get six dilithium crystals, Mister Scott. That's all we need." Kirk rose to meet McCoy as he stepped out of the elevator. "Have you examined any of them yet, Bones?"

  "They refuse, Jim."

  "Oh, come on, you're the doctor. What's going on, McCoy?" Kirk's voice lowered. "Is it that we're tired, and they are beautiful?" He sighed. "They are incredibly beautiful."

  "Are they?" the doctor answered wryly. "Are they actually any more lovely, pound for pound, measurement for measurement, than any other lovely women you've known?"

  "Perhaps I lack your vast experience," said Kirk.

  "Granted," McCoy acknowledged. "Or is it that these women just act beautiful?" He shook his head. "No, strike that. Maybe it's part of it, but there's—well, more. I'm not sure I'm making sense."

  "An admission I've waited years to hear! What are they, Bones?"

  "You mean are they alien illusions, that sort of thing?"

  "I asked you first."

  McCoy considered his encounter with Ruth. "They are women, Jim. Human, female females, I'd stake my license on that. An alien smart enough to pull this would be smart enough to prevent my medical scanner from bleeping."

  "I don't follow you," said Kirk, puzzled.

  "I don't follow myself."

  If Mudd's women were not smart aliens, they were sufficiently smart humans. Magda's flattering attentions to Farrell had paid off. Silently, she handed Harry Mudd the navigator's communicator. "Use sub-space frequency three-nine." she said listlessly.

  There were lines of weariness in her face. Mudd grabbed the instrument and flipped it open. He reached Rigel Twelve immediately. A deep male voice said, "Childress here. Come in, Enterprise."

  "Uh, this isn't exactly the Enterprise. My name is Harry Mudd. We have a business proposition to put to you…"

  Kirk eyed the approaching Rigel Twelve on the viewscreen between anxious glances at the dropping power indicators.

  "We'll make it to orbit, sir," said Farrell. Temporarily."

  "Lay in," said Kirk. "Spock?"

  "We can hang up here for seventy-nine hours, Captain."

  Kirk sighed with relief. "That should be plenty of time. Lieutenant Uhura, ask a representative of the miners to come aboard to discuss our needs. We'll beam him up on our first pass over their camp."

  "Acknowledged, sir."

  In Mudd's quarters, the three women waited. All was not well; in the lowered lights, the gleaming hair of Magda seemed leaden. Their faces were drawn and pale, and their short, close-fitting costumes were hanging limply on shrunken figures.

  Eve raised her head weakly. "If you find them, Harry, you know what they are? A cheat. If you really care for someone, honestly care…"

  Mudd's fat little hands were wedged into his pockets. They came out empty. Ruth moaned. "Care for who, Eve? Kirk? Don't be a fool. Starship captains are already married, girl—to their ships. Wait till he has to choose between it and you. You'll see."

  "Why did you hide them?" whined Ruth, twisting her hands.

  "I didn't hide them! I simply put them aside in case I was searched."

  Ruth burst into violent sobs. She sat weeping in her chair, huddled into her loose tunic. The shrill, sharp voice of Farrell’s blue-and-silver sprite cut through the sobbing like a knife. "Find them, Harry!"

  He made another frantic search of his pockets. Eve watched without interest, her eyes dim. "The mattress!" he cried. "I cut a slit…" He lunged at the bed, and fumbled out a white packet.

  With hands like savage claws Ruth and Magda seized the pills he held. Eve gazed at the colored tablet doubtfully, as Mudd offered it to her. Her tongue moistened her dry lips.

  "Not a cheat, Evie," he coaxed. "A miracle. For the man who could love you instead of a ship."

  She accepted the pill, and Mudd turned to look at the others. He always enjoyed watching the transformation. Magda's hair slowly turning from leaden to moonlight; Ruth's voluptuous roundness of thigh and breast returning to fill out her sea-green tunic; the lines of anxiety erasing themselves from creamy complexions.

  Eve's fingers closed round the pill, as Mudd's attention was wholly absorbed. She crushed it to powder, and dropped the colored dust on the floor.

  As Mudd turned to have a look at her, she rallied all the energy of her nervous system, forced it to deliver a gay vitality. Mudd saw a laughing woman, as golden as ever, and was satisfied. He beamed at her.

  Kirk liked the looks of Ben Childress. The head miner was a big man, muscular, powerful —the kind of man who knows his own mind and acts on what he knows. His square-jawed face was bronzed, weathered by countless battles with the blows that man, or nature, had contrived to deal him. His stride into Kirk's quarters had the drive of a well-oiled
piston.

  Gossett was impressive in his own way. Younger, with a whiplash body, he stood a little to the rear of Childress.

  Kirk nodded. "I'm James Kirk, Captain of the Enterprise. This is my Science Officer, Mister Spock." Spock rose.

  Acknowledging the introduction with a nod, Childress said, "Let's get right to business. You want dilithium crystals. We've got 'em."

  "Fine," said Kirk. "We're authorized to pay an equitable price."

  "Not sure they're for sale." Childress paused, clearly enjoying the effect of this astonishing announcement. "We might prefer a swap."

  "What do you have in mind, Mister Childress?"

  The big man grinned. "Mudd's women."

  Kirk eyed him frostily. Trading in women was definitely not among the duties of a Starship.

  Gossett chimed in. "If we like 'em, of course. We want a good look at them first."

  "Right." Childress agreed. "Trot 'em out, Captain. Oh yes—and Harry Mudd. Either way, his release is a condition of the bargain, charges to be dropped."

  Kirk had liked the look of Childress, but could not say the same for the sound. "I see," he said. "Anything more, Mister Childress?"

  "There's no choice for you, Kirk. You beam a landing party down, and you won't find a single crystal without our cooperation."

  Appalled, Kirk said decisively, "No deal."

  The two men hesitated, exchanging glances. "Captain," began Gossett.

  Kirk's interruption was crisp. "You're a long way out in space, gentlemen. You may need medical help, cargo runs, starship protection. Those are facts to consider, too."

  There was a silence, as the men considered. It was true that they would be virtually marooned without starship contact. As they realized the seriousness of their position, Kirk could see that he had won his point.

  Before Childress had spoken, the sound of laughter came from the corridor, and a radiant Magda danced past the guard and through the half-open door. Ruth was close behind her, and the two miners' mouths dropped open. Mudd followed, unnoticed, as Eve glided past.

  Ruth looked at the two, and moved in on the younger man, who swallowed, "I just bet you're Herm Gossett," she said softly.

  He flushed crimson. "I—yes, ma'am. I reckon I am, ma'am."

  Childress snapped out of his paralysis. He slapped Mudd on the back. "One thing I'll say for you, you're not a liar! Whee-ooh!" He stepped back and contemplated the three beauties. "And you, ladies—well, to put it mildly, you sure are welcome!"

  "Childress, it's still no dea—" said Kirk. But the lights flickered and dimmed. He turned to Spock, questioningly.

  "Half-power, sir. Conserving batteries."

  Mudd said quickly, "I've heard they have about three days before their orbit decays and they start spiraling in."

  "Thanks for the news," said Childress, heartily, with his eyes still moving from long leg to creamy shoulder.

  The fat man looked at Kirk with crocodile sympathy. "I sure hate to see you suffer this kind of squeeze, Captain. But truth is truth—and the sad fact is you'll have to make this deal sooner or later."

  Kirk was trapped, and he knew it.

  Rigel Twelve was a no-man's-land of a planet. What wasn't rock was sand, a harsh grit blown by intermittent gales of cold wind that turned it to a flesh-cutting mist. Inhospitable planets were an old story to the Enterprise, but for sheer unrelieved bleakness, Rigel Twelve took first prize. Along with Mudd, they materialized near a low building, less than half its domed top showing above the surface dunes. Set on its metallic roof, large curiously shaped wind vanes creaked in the gusts.

  Women's laughter, mixed with the lower notes of male voices, was coming from the structure. Clearly, inside there was a whale of a party.

  The new arrivals crashed it. But its conviviality had reached a peak that left them unnoticed, and Kirk seized the chance to take his bearings. The room's furniture was primitive, hewn from the rock. Under the human voices the wind vanes continuously sounded, click-click-click.

  Magda was sitting on the lap of the third miner, Benton. Gossett and Ruth seemed to be deeply involved with each other. Eve, alone, was staring out of a window at the vista of rock and blowing sand.

  Kirk approached Childress, who was eyeing Eve cautiously. "You've won, Mister. Now, if you please, I'll have those crystals."

  "When I have time, Kirk," said Childress, his eyes still on Eve. He moved toward her. She turned, and saw Kirk. Between them flashed the bittersweet acknowledgement of lost possibility, and then she moved her lips into a smile for Childress.

  "Blows like that all the time," the big man told her. She could no longer see out the window—it was darkening outside. The darkness pressed against the rough glass, pitted and blurred by endless assaults from the sand.

  "I… understand that there were originally four of you," she said.

  Childress nodded. "Charley Shorr stepped out into that last month. You can get lost a dozen feet from your own doorway if the wind comes up sudden." As he spoke, light flashed across the black sky. It was followed by a crackling noise too thin to be thunder. "Magnetic storm. That means the wind'll really rip soon."

  Ruth whispered to Gossett, "What does your place look like?"

  "They're all exactly like this. I figure it ain't how a house is built—it's how it's occupied." They laughed together, intimately.

  Magda, on Benson's lap, smiled her sweetest smile at him. All he could muster was a soggy grin, shaded by embarrassment. It was obvious to Kirk that he was loving every minute of it. She leaned back against Benson's shoulder. "What's that noise?" she asked idly. "That clicking sound?"

  "Wind vanes on the roof," he told her. "We get all our power from those rigs, and—"

  She slid on his lap and began moving her hips. Extending her arms to him, she said, "Come on, dance with me!"

  "But we don't have any music."

  "Yes, we do! Hear it! Click-click-click—" She moved to the rhythm of the vanes.

  Dancing wasn't his forte, but she was irresistible. He went to her and, locking his arms around her slender waist, led her in very small steps to the tempo of the vanes. Watching them, Ruth reached for Gossett's arm, and smiled up into his eyes. They too joined the dance.

  The wind had risen, splattering sand grit against the building. Mudd watched the dancers with genuine pleasure. Impatient and anxious, Kirk was finding it hard to contain his growing irritation. He glanced at Spock—but even his First Officer seemed to be… tolerant of these human games.

  Then, Mudd's satisfaction waned as his eye chanced to cross the room. Kirk turned to see what had evoked the look of concern. In open contrast to the other couples, Eve and Childress had moved apart. She was… wilting. She looked drab and tired. Kirk could not believe his eyes. And Childress' strong face was glum.

  Kirk heard him say, "Would you like to dance?"

  A spasm of coughing shook her. It filled her lackluster eyes with tears. "Sorry," she gasped. "I think it's all the dust."

  "That's how it is on Rigel," said Childress coldly. "All the time." He left her, and striding to the dancers, cut in on Benson. As his big arms engulfed Magda and they whirled off, Benson swore quietly. After a moment he cut Ruth away from Gossett; they were dancing dreamily close when Gossett seized Benson's shoulder.

  "I'm cutting in!"

  "Not on me, you're not!" said Benson, shaking him off.

  Eve moved closer to Kirk, trembling and drained. She looked so woebegone, so appealing, that Kirk nearly took her in his arms for comfort. But the tension among the men had heightened dangerously; Gossett and Benson, glaring, were squaring off. Then Benson made a leap for the other man's throat.

  Childress yanked them apart. "What's the matter with you?" he roared.

  Eve could bear no more. She screamed. Maddened by humiliation, hurt and weakness, she burst into wild weeping. "Why don't you just hold a raffle? The loser gets me!" She flung herself toward the door, wrenched it open and was gone.

  Wind and s
and lashed through the open door as Kirk and Childress raced after her. Outside, the gale, smashing grit against the rocks, had broken it into fine, stinging particles.

  The sky opened in a flare over Eve's head, then the blue light was gone and the darkness seemed blacker. The crackle followed her, deafening; she dropped to her knees and covered her assaulted ears with her hands. She staggered to her feet and swayed; the wind pressed her back. She had no strength to run.

  Behind her, Kirk shouted, "Eve! Eve, where are you?" She wanted to answer, but her voice would only whimper. Sand pounded her face, and the wind dried her tears before she could shed them. She stumbled on, through the mist of driving sand.

  Childress' search was efficient. He knew his terrain, and moved with certainty against the wind. Kirk, half-blinded, fell against a panting Mudd. "If we don't find her soon—" Another crackle drowned out the rest. Gossett's voice sounded unexpectedly. "It's gonna blow harder before it lets up!" Barely visible, he ran past.

  Mudd, on his knees, begged. "Captain, do something!"

  Kirk hauled him to his feet. "One chance," he said. "The ship's infrared scanner." He reached for his communicator, eying Mudd. "And when we get up there, you are going to tell me what's behind this—what's really behind it!"

  But on half-power, the Enterprise's scanners were sluggish.

  "Checking, but not getting much, sir," said Sulu, as they reached the bridge.

  "The storm is ionizing the planet's atmosphere, Captain. It's getting difficult to probe through it," added Spock.

  At Kirk's elbow, Scott said urgently, "Captain, this is draining the battery even further. If we had those crystals—"

  "But we don't! I didn't get them! Satisfied, Mister Scott?" snapped Kirk. Spock glanced at him, questioningly; but Spock could not know how an overload of anxiety needed expression. He shouldn't take out his temper on Scotty.

  Uhura reported more bad news. "Losing communication with the miners, sir. Magnetic storm is worsening."

  "Has Childress called in?"

  "No, sir, he and the girl are still missing."