Mudd's Angels Read online

  Kirk eyed him. "Any discussions or meetings can be held here, on the Enterprise."

  Norman eyed Kirk. "If you do not come with me, I shall destroy your engines and you will remain in orbit here—forever."

  "Do you usually abduct your guests?" said Kirk bitterly.

  "This is not our intention." He paused. "There is a word. Among us there is no corresponding one. But it seems to convey something to you humans."

  "What word is that?"

  "Please."

  They materialized in what seemed to be a sort of anteroom, plain and sparsely furnished. As the party began to get its bearings, two girls approached. McCoy and Scott exchanged surprised and appreciative glances. They were beautiful, shapely, brunette, in rose draperies that revealed very human-looking bodies; among their jewels was a necklace with a number engraved on a pendant

  Norman broke the silence. "Our planet's surface is what you classify as K-type. It is adaptable for humans by use of pressure domes and life-support systems." He addressed the girl numbered "1."

  "I have brought them."

  "He is waiting," she said.

  Number 2 spoke. "If you will follow us, please." She indicated a large sliding door at the end of the anteroom. Kirk hesitated; but there seemed no alternative. He signaled his people to follow the three androids.

  The door moved aside to reveal an immense chamber, carved of purple rock. Luxurious couches flanked its walls. Gilded mirrors abounded; and a bronze fountain in the shape of Venus gushed sparkling water from a golden shell. The room was somebody's dream of a potentate's drawing room… There was even a throne set on a carpeted dais.

  At the sight of its occupant, Kirk cried, "I don't believe it!"

  "Welcome aboard, Kirk. Been a long time, eh? Have a drink!" Flanked by two more of the brunettes, the lolling Majesty on the throne, wine goblet in hand, scratched his hairy chest and beamed at them.

  Kirk, staggered, said, "Harry Mudd!"

  Mudd guffawed with delight, flinging a fat leg over the arm of his throne. "To be absolutely accurate, laddie-buck, you should refer to me as Mudd the First." He lifted his goblet. "To Me, Ruler of this here sovereign planet!"

  "Ruler—?" Kirk slowly recovered from his initial shock. He opened his communicator. "Harry, I want control of my ship returned immediately. We will not be your guests!" Keeping an eye on Mudd the First, he spoke into the transmitter. "Kirk to Enterprise. Come in, Enterprise…"

  Mudd directed a casual finger at Number 2. She moved to Kirk; and daintily plucking the communicator from his hand, squeezed it into twisted pulp. "No, no, Kirk." Mudd wagged a playful forefinger. "No unauthorized communications. Tut, laddie."

  Chekov asked, "Do you know this man, Captain?"

  "I know him," said Kirk disgustedly. "Harcourt Fenton Mudd, thief—"

  "Oh, come now," protested Mudd the First

  "… swindler and con art—"

  "Entrepreneur," Mudd corrected.

  "… liar, rogue…"

  "Ah, did I really leave you with that impression, bucko?" Mudd shook his head sadly.

  "—who belongs in jail. Which is where I thought I'd left you, Mudd."

  "And thereby hangs a tale. Well, look around, Kirk. Quite a place, eh? Enjoy it?" Mudd's eyes were lurking in rolls of fat.

  "Mudd, I want that trained machine of yours to deactivate his trigger relay and free my ship."

  "I'll take care of that little thing, Kirk. When I'm ready."

  "I'm telling you now!"

  "On this planet, I am the one who does the telling, Kirk, old chum. You do the listening."

  Kirk sighed. "All right. For the moment I'm listening. What are you telling?"

  "You might as well get used to this place. You'll grow to love it, and that'll be nice. Very nice, because you're all going to stay here. Quite probably for the rest of your lives."

  The dismay of his people behind him struck Kirk like a blow. Checkmate. This phony King had him practically squeezed off the board. He could feel fury tighten in his chest. "Harry Mudd, you are an outlaw, a liar, and in very deep trouble. Release my ship—and do it immediately."

  "Sorry, pal. That'd be against the law." The greasy chuckle came again. "Against my law, decreed by Mudd the First. Voted in by the resident population." He jerked a thumb at the girl beside him. "Lovely, aren't they? It's my feeling for beauty; I have decreed that I shall be surrounded by it. And all my decrees come to pass."

  He leaned forward confidentially. "I've had five hundred Alices made to attend me, all identical—lovely, compliant, obedient…"

  Spock spoke for the first time. "Five hundred, all identical? If I may say so, that strikes me as rather redundant."

  "I have a fondness for this particular model. Not that I expect you, Mister Spock, to appreciate it"

  It suddenly came to Kirk that conversation with Harry Mudd partook of a Wonderland quality. And his tension eased. "All right, Harry. Suppose you explain. How did you get here? We left you in custody after that affair on the Rigel mining planet."

  Mudd waved a pudgy hand. "Happenstance. I organized a technical information service, bringing modern industrial methods to backward planets. I made valuable patents available to struggling young civilizations through the galaxy."

  "Paying royalties to the owners of the patents?"

  Mudd coughed. "Er-hm. Actually, as a defender of Free Enterprise, I found myself in conflict on a matter of principle."

  "He did not pay royalties," remarked Spock.

  Mudd gulped wine. Wiping his mouth on a velvet sleeve, he said, "Knowledge should be free to all."

  "Who caught you?" asked Kirk.

  Mudd glared and started to rise. "That, sir, is an outrageous assumption I" He shrugged and sat back as he caught Spock's sardonic look. "I sold the Denebians all the rights to a Vulcan Fuel Synthesizer."

  "And the Denebians informed Vulcan," added Kirk.

  "How'd you know?" demanded Mudd indignantly.

  "It's what I would have done."

  Mudd slammed down his goblet on the arm of his throne. "Typical police mentality! No sense of humor, sonny boy. They arrested me!"

  "Surely not!" McCoy said. "How shocking!"

  "Worse," Mudd told McCoy, relishing his apparent sympathy. "Do you know what the penalty for fraud is on Deneb Five?"

  "The guilty party," Spock mused aloud, "has a choice; death by hanging, death by electrocution, death by gas, death by phaser—"

  Seismic waves overtook Mudd's fat as he shuddered. "The key word, Mister Spock, is 'death.' Barbarians! I… left."

  "Broke jail," translated Kirk.

  "Borrowed transportation," glared Mudd.

  "Stole a spaceship."

  "The patrol reacted in a hostile manner," said Mudd.

  "They shot at you."

  "No respect for private property. They damaged the bloody ship. I got away, but I couldn't navigate. So I just ran into unmapped space. And here I found—Mudd's Planet"

  "You would," said McCoy, shaking his head.

  Kirk had lost patience. "Harry, get to it."

  Spock intervened. "Mister Mudd, you went to substantial risk to bring a Federation Starship here. Logically, you must have had a compelling motivation to have hijacked our vessel."

  Mudd's yellow teeth showed in a warped smile. "You'll love it here, Spock. Y'see, I found this planet with over two hundred thousand happy androids, ready to fulfill your every wish." He paused uneasily. "It's paradise."

  "Then I fail to see your problem," said Spock.

  Mudd pounded the arm of the throne. "They won't let me go!" His face flushed with anger. "They want to study me. They want to learn more about mankind!"

  "They certainly chose a fine representative of it," said Kirk.

  "Watch your tongue, laddie! You're talking about Mudd the First!" He leaned back, pudgy lingers drumming. "Anyway, I ran out of ideas, things for them to do. So they insisted I bring more humans here. They need more humans to study, to serve." He looked at
Kirk. "I promised them a prime sample—a Starship Captain, loyal, bright, fearless, imaginative, and so forth and so on. Any captain would have done." He grinned. "I was just lucky to get you, Kirk, laddie. You take over here, and I get off this rock and back to civilization."

  "No, Harry."

  "You misunderstand me. I'm not asking you, I'm telling you. You have no choice." He spoke to Norman and the Alices. "Show them to their quarters."

  In unison, they answered, "Yes, my Lord."

  Variously outraged, the Enterprise contingent followed the androids to a side door. Near it was what might have been another door, darkly opalescent. Despite his indignation, McCoy was curious.

  "What's behind this, Mudd?"

  Mudd chortled. "Ah. That, gentlemen, is a shrine to the memory of my beloved Stella."

  "Who?"

  Mudd pressed a button; the "door" was a wall niche. As it lit up the gaunt, beaky figure within, clad in a long, prim black dress, began to move.

  "M'wife," said Mudd simply.

  "Dead?" asked Kirk, not roughly.

  "Oh, no. Merely… deserted." Mudd sighed. "Behind every great man, there is a woman urging him onward and upward. My wife urged me onward and upward into space. She didn't mean to, but she did. Her confounded, eternal nagging —" He paused to sigh again. "I think of her constantly. And every time I do, I go further into space."

  "Interesting," McCoy said. "You run away from a woman and then bring her along, so to speak."

  "Uh, no. Not quite. I had the androids construct a facsimile of Stella, so I could gaze upon her and rejoice in her absence." He touched another button. The android Stella burst into life.

  Glaring at him, her red topknot quivering with fury, she burst into screech. "Harcourt! Harcourt Fenton Mudd, what have you been up to now? Nothing you'd dare tell me, I'll be bound! We-ell, let me tell you, you lazy, good-for-nothing skirt chase—"

  "Shut up," Mudd said happily. Instantly the android Stella subsided into lifelessness. Mudd chuckled. "Marvelous. I finally have the last word!" He turned to Kirk, "With her—and with you too, sonny boy."

  Their quarters were next to a lounge that resembled a hotel lobby.

  "You'll find our arrangements quite comfortable," Norman said.

  Alice 1 spoke. "If there is anything you need…"

  "My ship," said Kirk promptly.

  Alice 2 said, "We are not programmed to respond in that area."

  Kirk looked away from her. "Who created you, Norman?"

  "The Makers designed us. They came from the Andromeda galaxy."

  "Then your Makers were not human?" McCoy asked, interested.

  "They were, as you say, quite humanoid. Robots were common in their civilization. We performed all necessary service functions, freeing our Makers to evolve a perfect social order."

  "What happened to them?" inquired Spock.

  "Our home planet's sun went nova. Only a few exploratory outposts survived. This unit"—he touched his chest—"was part of one such outpost in your galaxy."

  "Then some of your Makers also survived?"

  "No, Captain. They died over a stretch of time. We do not die."

  "And whom do you serve now?"

  "We serve Harry Mudd. He has given us purpose again. Purpose is necessary. We have lacked it for a long time."

  Spock was right, Kirk thought. This was a highly sophisticated machine. "Norman," he said, "your Makers were destroyed, and you were isolated in this galaxy. How long have you been waiting?"

  "In your terms, one million, seven hundred forty-three thousand, nine hundred and twelve years, thirteen days, four hours, twenty minutes and fifty seconds."

  Everyone stared at him. McCoy broke the general awe. "Well, there's one thing," he said. "We'll always know just exactly how long we've been here. Just ask… this unit."

  And it weighed a ton, Kirk reflected. "I don't plan to be a prisoner," he said.

  "You are not a prisoner, Captain. You are a guest. You are free to go anywhere you choose."

  "Anywhere?"

  "That is correct. Is there some place in particular you wish to—"

  "Yes. My ship."

  "I am not programmed to respond in that area."

  Kirk flared. "I'm getting a little tired of that statement! Do you know that my ship can destroy this planet? And all you along with it?"

  "An interesting reaction," observed Norman.

  Spock nodded. "I, too, have always found it so. It is called anger. It is caused by frustration."

  "You have fascinating mental processes, Mister Spock. I sense a kinship with you."

  "There you are, Spock!" McCoy cried triumphantly. "I knew it all the time. Brother to a pile of tin."

  "Beryllium, Doctor," Norman corrected. "And other alloys." If his handsome face had been capable of expressing pride, it would have done so. "We have a very well-equipped library and computer section. Our research laboratories have much to offer. You are welcome to visit there."

  "All right," said Kirk. "We might, later. Now would you mind leaving us?"

  "Why should we leave you?" said Alice 1.

  Kirk inhaled a deep breath. "Because-we-do-not-like-you."

  "A well-motivated request," said Alice 2. "We shall leave."

  As they departed, Kirk turned to his officers. "Well? Opinions?"

  "I think we're in a lot of trouble," Chekov said.

  "That's very helpful, Ensign. Bones?"

  "I agree with Chekov. We are in a lot of trouble."

  "Spock?"

  "Obviously, Captain, so many androids cannot operate independently. There must be a central control focus of some description, one which directs the android population."

  "I think you're right, Spock," said the captain, after a moment. "That's where we start. Spock, you see if you can locate it. The rest of you, check around. Learn everything you can. Find out what makes this place tick. And I'll see if I can get any more out of Mudd. Let's go."

  There was a central control section. Spock found it without difficulty at the end of a corridor. But all it contained was one small electronic unit. Norman was standing with his hands on it, as though in communion. Out of his Enterprise uniform, in the drab coverall worn by the android males, he looked even less human. He nodded to Spock.

  "I trust you are enjoying yourself, Mister Spock."

  "I find it almost interesting. That is an unusual device you are holding."

  "Our central computer." Norman's hand rested lightly on it.

  The Spockian eyebrows rose. "Oh? It seems rather inadequate for those of your sophistication. Did I understand that there are more than two hundred thousand of you?"

  "Two hundred and seven thousand, eight hundred and nine," said the mathematically meticulous Norman.

  "All of which are controlled through this device?"

  Norman hesitated. The badge he wore began to glow. "I am not programmed to respond in that area."

  "I am hardly surprised. This appears to be a simple relay center."

  "It is our central control complex. Perhaps you would be interested in our computer banks. They are beyond this wall."

  "Indeed? I would." As they strolled toward an entrance, Norman went on.

  "They stretch for nearly ten of your miles, Mister Spock…"

  "Fascinating," said Spock. And he meant it.

  In the workshop section, Mudd and two Alices were doing the honors for Uhura and the Captain. On a model stand another android female was posed.

  "This is one of our Barbara series," explained Alice 19. "The body is covered with a self-renewing plastic over a beryllium-titanium alloy skeleton."

  "Most impressive," said Kirk.

  "I should say so!" Uhura was enthusiastic.

  "She, too, was built to my personal specifications," said Mudd. "As were the Maizies, the Trudies, and the Annabelle series."

  "Don't you believe in male androids, Harry?"

  Mudd shrugged. "I suppose they have their place."

  Uhura, wonde
ring, asked Alice 263, "How long would a body like that last?"

  "I do not know."

  "You don't know?"

  "None of our android bodies has ever worn out. However, the estimated duration of that one on the stand is five hundred thousand years, before it may begin to need a few repairs."

  Kirk nodded. "Economical."

  Uhura was still taking in the information. "Five hundred thousand years…"

  "Immortality," Mudd told her. "Or as near as makes no difference."

  Staring at the Barbara 4, Uhura murmured wonderingly, "Five hundred thousand years…"

  "And the best part is," said Mudd, "she'll be beautiful for every single one of those years." He appraised the Enterprise Communications Officer with a connoisseur's eye. "You're a beautiful woman yourself, Miss Uhura. But everyone grows old, even with the best geriatric techniques available. Yet here—you could have that." He indicated the form on the stand.

  Alice 19 picked up the cue. "Our medi-robots are able to place a human brain within a structurally compatible android body. Occasionally, one of our Makers had it done for work on an inhospitable planet"

  Mudd was saying to Uhura, "Immortality, eternal beauty; they are possible, here." He smiled his yellow smile and walked away, leaving her looking extremely thoughtful. Kirk noted her rapt expression uneasily.

  Spock was saying, "I am convinced that I have discovered an important inconsistency, Cap—" when he was interrupted by the return of Mudd, followed by a beaming McCoy.

  "Jim, you should see the research facilities! They've got a lab that—well, if I could spend the rest of my life—"

  "Don't get carried away, Bones. Nobody's staying anywhere."

  Mudd wagged his forefinger at Kirk. "Naughty, naughty. Stubborn, too."

  "Well," McCoy sighed. "I wouldn't be bored, I assure you." A familiar voice was shouting outside the door. Alice 22 entered, pulling the protesting, foot-dragging Scott as though he were a recalcitrant three-year-old.

  "Let me go you—you—Captain! What kind of women…?"

  He was released as soon as he was well inside the room. Alice 22 said serenely, "This is the last, my Lord."