One shuttlecraft was lined up facing the Esmeralda's bay doors. Those doors wouldn't open now until a number of highly trained people had replaced certain stripped bearings and other deliberately ruined parts.642Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡdQW8zcgdrQ
Three security guards had actually made it into the bay before the order to lock all doorways had taken effect. One of them was lying slumped across the open portway leading into the shuttle. Another lay crumpled at the foot of the ramp leading up to it.
The third stood quietly facing the other occupant of the soundless chamber.
Brenda Chenowith kept her phaser pointed at him. The hand holding it didn't waver, didn't shake. Neither did her voice.
"You're not getting past me this time. I've learned my lesson."
The form of Peter Griffin nodded slowly. "Yes, he said you were like this. Efficient, professional, as well as affectionate and beautiful. You're quite everything he said you were, Brenda." The muzzle of the powerful phaser didn't dip a centimeter.
There was suspicion in her gaze, hesitance in her voice---but she had to ask.
"Peter---what did he say? How----how do you know him so well?"
The Peter/Plooran spoke. Despite the fact that instinct told her she should regard every word as a lie, there was something in Peter's voice that---no, dammit, not Peter's! Only a sly mimicry, an uncanny imitation.
Reproduction or not, something in the voice sounded nearly honest.
"He said many things. Some were feeling, deep feelings he could not always fully express or adequately convey. Emotions that, while I understood the words and flat meanings of them, clearly held a good deal more than I could understand. Language can sometimes be infuriatingly uncommunicative, can tease and confuse when it should enlighten.
"I tried hard to understand these feelings. So many of the ideas and concepts that he attempted to convey to me were new, alien, strange---but always intriguing. The less I understood, the more I wanted to know." Peter shook his head.
"My people have their faults, but their are compounded by this odd ability of ours to mimic others, to change our shape. Something so natural to us seems so alarmingly strange to other intelligent beings. I understand that lower creatures on many worlds can perform similar feats. But when the ability is coupled with intelligence, other races grow nervous.
"Sometimes," he continued bitterly, "we....." His voice shifted back to a more gentle tone. "But Peter Griffin truly loved you."
The phaser shifted ever so slightly, but still remained fixed on the figure before her. Blazes, where were the backup security personnel?
She had no way of knowing that Sawyer had ordered the shuttle bay sealed off from the rest of the ship. Where was the captain, or Mr. Spock? Someone to give orders, to take this responsibility off her hands.
She should have said nothing to the creature, should have kept her mouth shut, and at least beamed it slightly in the leg to restrict its movement.
Instead, she softly asked, "How did he die?"
"Peter's ship did indeed encounter severe meteor activity in open space. But the damage it sustained was not from the swarm Captain Sawyer found me drifting in. The deflector shields of his little ship were too weak to protect him from the violent assault of that original storm.
"The shields held just long enough for him to locate a possible landing site and refuge. The only one----Ploor. Peter knew that world was under edict, forbidden to travelers, but he had no choice in the matter. It was a miracle he managed to land his vessel at all. Neither he nor his ship, however, survived the landing intact. His injuries were severe." Peter shuffled his feet.
"As is our custom, upon conclusion of a primary surgery he was left in the care of a single one of us." He looked right at her. "Me. He lived on for almost four of your years before the damage to his system exceeded the repair capabilities of our medical science.
"We became very close in those four years." There was a pause while the two looked at each other----one maybe a little too human, the other a good deal less so.
Or was he?
"You're so much like him---his voice, his little gestures, his mannerisms. Even the inflections in certain words."
"You must understand, Brenda, that my people enjoy our talent for mimicry. It is pleasure to us. But because of it we are cut off from the rest of the civilized galaxy. Therefore anything new to imitate is regarded as a great novelty. To a large extent it becomes the exclusive property of its discoverer. So it was with myself and Peter Griffin.
"I often went about in his shape---this shape. For longer and longer periods of time. A most remarkable form. Wearing it gave me the greatest pleasure, because it fit so well and not just physically but mentally.
"And I think Peter himself enjoyed seeing me in his own image. While my own form was not repulsive to him---as an interstellar trader he had no primitive shape prejudices....I think the chance to see and to speak to----himself---made it easier for him in his final days." Peter smiled.
"It was not as if he died with only an alien monster for company."
"And he did say that he loved me?"
"Yes. Often. And that brings up another problem." He hesitated. "You see, I feel I absorbed a great many of the attitudes and emotions he felt. The longer I was with him, the more strongly ingrained these attitudes became. I do not know how it is with humans, but a Plooran cannot remain in close association, let alone in the same shape, of another being without becoming, so to speak, a part of him."
"There were times, after our association had grown close, that when Peter grew hungry, I was hungry. If he felt tired and exhausted, I grew tired and exhausted. It became deeper than that. If he felt pain then I, in his form, was hurt. We would commiserate together on his sad situation. I would cheer him and he would attempt to raise my spirits."
"Our unity grew even to the point where when he would feel homesick, I could feel a deep longing for a world I had never seen, would never set foot upon. And," his voice dropped lower, "his love for you was very, very strong. I could not help but be affected by such a powerful emotion." He looked up at her again.
"Because I was there when he died, Brenda, It did not end."
Unwillingly, she found herself shaking. She let the phaser drop low, lower. He could have made a move toward her at any time now, but he didn't. All thoughts of aggression had vanished from her mind. A suspicious moisture began to form at the corners of her eyes. She raised a free hand, tried to brush it away. It was impossible. Tears began to trickle down her cheeks in most unmilitary fashion.
Both hands came up, but this time it was to reach out to him, instinctively.
"Peter..."
He moved close. One hand touched the fingers gripping the phaser. She didn't resist. His hands moved high, held her firmly by the shoulders and pushed gently away.
"You must not cry for me."
"Peter, I..."
"Brenda, this is what I am."
He stepped back and crossed both arms over his chest. Peter Griffin disappeared.
In his place rose a squat, heavyset creature with four pillar-like legs and four tentacles, reddish in color, and with an ovoid head without orifices of any kind. It spoke, and the voice was the voice of Peter Griffin....but now sounding oddly distant, echoing. It came from a voicebox no longer human.
"How could you love----this?"
Her hands dropped from her mouth, to which they'd jerked with the first gasp of surprise. Like most humans, she'd never seen a Plooran. The form was as inhuman and thoroughly alien as the wildest dreams of drug-induced narcosis.
But the first shock passed. The creature crossed tentacles and once more shifted into the familiar figure of Peter Griffin. There was sympathy in its once-more human voice and...something else?
"You see why I told you it would be best to forget me," the alien said, unaware of the change in pronoun.
"But unfortunately, I can't," came the voice of Captain Sawyer. Both figures turned to face a side entrance. Sawyer had arrived moments ahead of the requested security team. He held a phaser on Griffin.
He never had a chance to use it, because the shockwave from the first bolt fired by the Sebacean phaser banks threw them all to the floor of the hangar. Dazed, Sawyer rolled over, tried to force himself to his feet and focused the phaser at the same time. His vision cleared rapidly and he glanced around the shuttle bay, looking frantically in all directions.
As expected, the alien was gone again.
He noticed Brenda Chenowith. She had one hand on her forehead and was having difficulty rising to her feet. Sawyer helped her up.
"Peter---Peter...."
"The Plooran is gone, Lieutenant Chenowith," said Sawyer tightly. "I've got to get back to the bridge. Will you be okay?"
"Yes, just a bump. I've got to get back to security." She took a step and almost fell over.
Sawyer half carried, half guided her to the exit. The security team met them there.
"Ensign Xuan reporting, Captain." The excited junior officer was trying to look at Sawyer respectfully and over his shoulder into the cavernous shuttle bay at the same time. "Where's the alien, sir?"
"The alien is gone again, Mr. Xuan. And stop waving that phaser around before you hurt somebody." The ensign looked properly abashed and hurried to holster the weapon. Sawyer sighed.
"Post a guard here. The outer doors are jammed, but the alien might try to burn an exit for the shuttle. Alert the armory and engineering. And security central. They'll have to start the search all over again, but maybe we can keep the bastard confined to this deck, this time."
"Yes, sir."
"Lieutenant Chenowith, somehow I think security can manage without you." She didn't look up at him. "You come to the bridge with me. There's a chance you could be useful there."
He felt like adding a few other choice comments. She'd had the alien trapped again and once more it had escaped. While he found himself sympathizing with her state of mind, he couldn't condone her actions. Mr. Spock would be even less understanding. Meanwhile, it would be better for her on the bridge, away from the actual search. It was a better alternative than the brig.
Besides, it would be hard to claim she had let the thing get away voluntarily. The Sebaceans had contributed to that.
Yes, what about the Sebaceans?
Spock was waiting with a report. He started talking before Sawyer had resumed his seat. Brenda Chenowith wandered around the bridge, looking lost. She was still numbed, and not entirely from being thrown to the deck.
"Direct hit, Captain," Spock informed him calmly. "There is some damage to the secondary propulsive systems. Their commander has apparently weighed his choices and has concluded we've had enough time to make up our minds. He's ready to fight."
"I only felt one shock wave, Mr. Spock. No subsequent attacks?"
"No, Captain. Only the one frag cannon strike."
"Then he's hoping to force our hand, one way or the other, but he still wants the ship. There's nothing in the damaged section but automatic machinery. he's trying to avoid causalities at this point, trying to disable us without giving a reason for an all-out battle."
He looked back to Lt. R'res, at the communications console now, as she broke in on his summary.
"The Sebacean peacekeeperrrr is signaling, sirrrr. Shall I put him on the screen?"
"I'd rather you put him---go ahead, Lieutenant."
A moment later the face of the Sebacean peacekeeper had once more taken the place of his ships on the main telescreen.
The Sebaceans would make terrible poker players, Sawyer reflected. Their expressions were even broader and less inhibited than those of humans. Their ambassadors and consuls must have a terrible time practicing the wiles of diplomacy.
For instance, the peacekeeper now undoubtedly thought he was maintaining the Sebacean equivalent of a straight face, but his expectant smile reached from ear to ear.
"Captain Sawyer," he started, and there was unconcealed anticipation in his voice, too. I wonder what he's up to now, Sawyer mused. He didn't relish the pickle they'd gotten themselves into.
"All our main batteries are trained on your ship. I have observed a---ah, singular lack of defensive effort on your part. To resist at this point would be not only useless but criminally wasteful of life.
"If you have no regard for yourself or your ship, think of your crew. Our recent attack was intentionally directed at uninhabited areas of your ship. I cannot guarantee the selectivity of gunners in the future." He managed to look apologetic as he leaned forward slightly.
"Will you now surrender your vessel? As you know, my people are not in the habit of giving second chances."
That was the Sebacean's way of telling him that, yes, he wanted the Esmeralda and no, he didn't want it bad enough to give him any more time. Sawyer's thoughts raced.
He might be able to figure a way out of this, if the back of his mind wasn't busy worrying about what the Plooran was up to. And he could cope with the Plooran if it wasn't for the Sebaceans. But the two of them together!
It didn't matter. He didn't have any more time, anyway.
Without full deflectors, he thought angrily, we're just a clay pigeon for them. Sawyer had never seen a clay pigeon in his life and probably wouldn't have recognized one if it had fallen into his lap. But archaic metaphors had a way of sticking around in the terran language.
"Practicality does suggest capitulation at this point, Captain," observed Spock. "I, too, see no solution to our present dilemma. There are other starships, there is no other self."
Of course, there are other ships, Sawyer thought. But how much chance would he had of getting another command after giving up the Esmeralda without firing a shot?
And what chance did his crew have? Could he guarantee their safety once the Esmeralda was in Sebacean hands?
Ko-Ko had been morosely monitoring inship as well as exterior sensors, checking his gauges and dials. Now he interrupted Spock's advice excitedly---interrupted Sawyer's depression. Interrupted all action on the bridge.
"Captain, I don't understand----but the deflector shields are coming up again!"
In two steps Sawyer was at his shoulder, staring down at the indicators in disbelief. "It's only one shield..."
"Yes, sir, but it's our prime defensive screen, and it's between us and the Sebaceans. Look," he pointed to one energy gauge, "it's operating at full strength."
Sawyer rushed back to his chair. A wise man does not question the sudden appearance of a cache of spears when the barbarians are at his gate. He throws them. Time to question their origin when pulling them out of his attackers.
They had to act immediately, before some idle technician on one of the command carriers noticed the resurgence of strength in the Esmeralda's defensive shields.
"Mr. Ko-Ko, aim for the propulsion units on the lead Sebacean vessel. Phasers and photon torpedoes in combination." Ko-Ko's hands played the controls like an organ.
"Phaser and torpedoes positive, sir."
"We've got to get one with this first burst, Mr. Ko-Ko."
"Will do, Captain."
"Fire!"
"Firing, sir."
"Evasive action, Mr. Ko-Ko, keep that good screen between us and the Sebaceans."
The Sebacean peacekeeper had long since vanished from the screen. R'ress had automatically substituted the sensor view of the two command carriers. It was too bad, in a way. Sawyer would have given a lot to see the peacekeeper's face right tnow.
He could see the phaser beams striking at the stern of the nearest ship.
"They're pursuing, sir," reported Ko-Ko evenly. "Both of them."
Sawyer only nodded. They'd probably expected him to try and run, but not to fight.
There was a sudden bright flash at the stern of the first ship. The Sebacean's screens had handled the Esmeralda's heavy phasers, but one, maybe two, of the powerful photon torpedoes had slipped through their screens. The wounded vessel seemed to hesitate, then vanished instantly from the screen---not destroyed, but slowed.
"Second vessel firing Captain," said Spock. Sawyer tensed.
"Phasers and..." Before he could finish, the bridge rocked to a strong shock wave as the Esmeralda took the force of the attack from the remaining pursuer. This was no disabling strike, but one designed to tear the starship to pieces.
The amazingly resurgent deflector shield held. Artificial gravity stabilized and the regular ship's lights remained on.
"Minor damage to Epsilon and Eta decks," reported Spock moments later. "Casualties on Epsilon deck, minor hulling and air loss in four compartments. Automatic sealant is handling the damage."
"Lock on second target," Sawyer ordered calmly. He noticed R'ress looking at him with admiration. She didn't sweat, but she was panting heavily---nervous, Sawyer knew. Obviously she didn't know that starship captains only sweated on the inside of their skins. It's what made them so irritable constantly.
"Locking on a second vessel, Captain," came Ko-Ko's reply. A second later, "locked on, sir."
"Phasers and torpedoes, Mr. Ko-Ko. Stagger the torps, try to run them at the same spot." Maybe they could overload the Sebacean's shields at one point. Discouraging her should be as effective as destroying her.
"Firing, Captain."
There were brilliant flashes on the screen from the vicinity of the Sebacean ship as her screens reeled under the dual assault. Ko-Ko's eyes remained glued to his indicators, his voice a battle monotone.
"Phasers---direct hit, sir." There was a flash so bright it blanked out the telescreen for a moment. "Two photon torpedo hits."
But the Sebacean, now warned, had brought his shields up to maximum power and had taken the building energies without damage. Sawyer heard Spock's report and tried not to look too disappointed. If the Sebacean computers got a torpedo in behind their one good deflector shield....
"Prepare to fire again, Mr. Ko-Ko."
"Standing by, sir."
The third attack wasn't necessary. One second the Sebacean ship was hard in pursuit, the next it was fading rapidly from sensor range as her commander broke off the engagement and headed back into the depths of the demilitarized zone.
"Losing contact, sir," reported Ko-Ko. "She's arcing."
Sawyer's voice was full of relief and satisfaction. "Going back to help her disabled comrade. Good. A fight to the death wouldn't do either side any good."
"Maybe the pounding we gave the first one," Ko-Ko began, but Sawyer was shaking his head.
"I don't think so, Mr. Ko-Ko. The Sebaceans exhibit a number of reprehensible characteristics, but cowardice isn't one of them. No, they were expecting our defenses to collapse. That's why they didn't attack right away. When our shields suddenly went back up....
"Their whole plan from the moment of interception was predicated on a number of things happening. When their carefully laid schedule started to go awry, they decided to call it off. The Sebaceans don't like their ambushes neatly planned in advance. They don't like surprises.
"Speaking of surprises, Mr. Spock, exactly how badly did we damage that other Sebecean? Check your recorders, please." Spock turned back to the library computer console, activated the request.
"I hope it wasn't too bad," Sawyer added. "Severe damage or loss of life might force the Sebacean Supreme Justices into continuing a fight they've lost interest in. They've got a lot of pride." Spock's answer relieved Sawyer's concern on that score.
"First ship's main power supply was knocked out, Captain. Injuries to personnel should be minimal. She should be able to run on secondary drive, but slowly. With the aid of the other ship the Sebaceans should be able to repair her well enough to reach their nearest naval station."
Sawyer's grunted in satisfaction. He swung to look at the elevator as engineer Gordon appeared, approaching him.
"Good work, Mr. Gordon. That deflector shield went up just in time."
Gordon's reaction was not what Sawyer expected. Instead of a smile of pleasure at the compliment, the chief engineer looked confused, startled.
"But, sir, the shield connections haven't all been repaired yet. I came forward to see if I could be of help up here. My technicians are still carrying out the last repairs. They'll need over one hour yet, just like I said."
Spock left his library station and walked over to join the conversation.
"Interesting."
"But, confound it, Tony, the shields went up! At least, the main one did. If you haven't finished repairs, then what...." He paused. A sudden gleam of understanding dawned.
"Of course! Griffin, or rather, the Plooran."
"It is not beyond the realm of possibility, Captain," agreed Spock. If he could arrange his own internal structure to become an examination table, one must assume that he could also rearrange himself to become...."
"A deflector shield?" Despite the evidence that seemed to point to the Plooran, Sawyer was doubtful. "And take the uncontrolled energy of a command carrier's frag cannons?" He shook his head. He wanted to believe such a thing was possible, but...
"Ploorans are marvelous mimics, Mr. Spock, but super-beings they're not. No living organism could spread its substance that thin and take that kind of...."
"He did not become the deflector shield, Captain," Spock corrected. "There are many instruments---complex controls, switching elements and other electronic components---in a medical examination table. I cannot conceive of a single creature becoming a deflector shield, either, but a series of broken cables, force-links, and other damaged connections? Do not forget, the Plooran had an excellent look at the very linkages he broke."
Gordon had been listening to all this and had achieved nothing except some practice in feeling twitchy. Now his curiosity turned to frustration.
"Will someone please tell me what's been going on?" he pleaded, thoroughly confused.
Before either officer could reply, the doors to the elevator dilated again. They all glanced automatically in that direction.
The orange shape that stood in the portal was by now familiar
to Sawyer and Spock, but the nightmarish image was something new to Gordon and the other bridge personnel. R'ress hissed softly.
"Now, what in the bloody hell is that?" gulped Gordon.
"That is your deflector shield, Mr. Gordon," said Spock.
"My what?" Gordon's look showed he wasn't sure which was more alien---the thing in the doorway or the ship's first officer. He looked back at the Plooran.
"That is basically true," the Plooran commented in the voice of Peter Griffin. It sidled toward them. "I did what I could." Despite its alien face, it turned and seemed to face Sawyer, a human gesture.
"I assume the danger to your ship is past, Captain?"
"Well, unless the Sebaceans have some other surprises....."
"I am sure they do not," the Plooran replied. "I am glad. I'm sorry that I endangered your ship and your people. That was not my intention, I assure you."
Now maybe Sawyer could get the answer to a question that had been bothering him ever since they found at that the strange spy was a Plooran.
"All right, why did you do it? What did the Seabeans offer you as a reward?"
"To understand that, Captain, it is necessary to tell you a little about myself. The remainder can be supplied by Lt. Chenowith." Sawyer glanced over at the Lieutenant, who was watching the Plooran closely.
"My----attachment---to the human Peter Griffen provoked much comment among my people, Captain. I have always felt and acted somewhat different from the Plooran norm. Mental deviates are not treated with compassion on Ploor.
"As Peter Griffin continued to live and I continued to spend more and more time attending him, my aberration became much commented upon. But there was a lock, a bond between us that transcended mere shape and species. I felt I somehow had more in common with the injured human than with other Ploorans.
"They began to shun me. I became an outcast among my own race, Captain. But this I did not mind---as long as Griffin lived. But when he died, my people continued to look upon me with distaste, to avoid my company and presence. I grew by turns lonely, then bitter, and then desperately lonely once more.
"Though time passed, my situation remained unchanged. I was still treated as a pariah. When a Sebacean ship visited the town on whose outskirts I lived as a recluse---" He paused. "They have been visiting Ploor quite regularly, by the way, for the past several of your years, always hoping to ally themselves with my people. But we would have none of them."
"Fascinating," commented Spock. "I must make a note of that. I know my father, as well as a number of other ambassadors, will be interested in such information. I expect they will have a few words to exchange with their Sebacean counterpart." He moved away, back to the library station, to dictate a report of the Sebaceans' violation of the Plooran quarantine.
"You were saying," prodded Sawyer, "that your people would have nothing to do with the Sebaceans."
"Why should they? The Sebaceans had nothing to offer them. But I," and the faint light of whatever passed for the alien's eyes seemed to glow a little more intensely, "I was another story. My people had rejected me. I was a useless outcast.
"The Sebaceans had nothing to offer me---except a life, Captain. A chance to perform functions of value. We may seem at times a frivolous and idle people, but it is literally a matter of life and death for a Plooran to be occupied in a useful function, to be something important.
"Ploor no longer offered me this; indeed, by their lack of companionship my people effectively forbade it to me. So in desperation I agreed to do what the Sebaceans asked of me. You must understand, Captain, that function among us, to be considered worthwhile, must be of value not only to the doer, but also to someone else."
From the first, Sawyer's feelings towards this alien intruder had been somewhat less than fraternal. But as Griffin's "voice" spun a tale of a tortured past, he found himself coming to regard the Plooran less and less as a belligerent invader and more as an individual, a victim of circumstances beyond his control---a prisoner condemned by his own compassion.
"What finally changed your mind about the Sebaceans---and us?"
"It seems, Captain, that I have become more Peter Griffin than I know. Maybe my friends and associates on Ploor sensed it even better than did I. My refusal to recognize this change in myself no doubt drove them even farther from me.
"I had to fight myself to comply with the Sebaceans when they first revealed to me their plan to take your ship. But at last I realized that if they could not capture the ship, they were willing to destroy it and all of you on board. That's when I felt the sorrow that I know Peter Griffin would have felt.
"He loved life and other lives so much, Captain Sawyer. Because of him I could not allow the Sebaceans to harm Brenda, or any of you.
"So as you and Mr. Spock have surmised, I changed myself yet again. I became the very linkages in the deflector system that I had broken. I was---very hard. The most difficult change I have ever had to make. The internal arrangements especially had to be so precise, so delicately aligned. I had to structure myself to allow current to pass through my body.
"But I could not allow you to come to physical harm through my actions. Through the actions of----of Peter Griffin."
Sawyer nodded slowly. "I think I understand. At least, I think I understand as well as it's possible for a non-Plooran to."
"I cannot go back to the Sebaceans now," echoed the hollow voice. "I have menaced your ship and its people, and I cannot go back to Ploor. What will happen to me now?"
This was ridiculous! The creature swaying slowly in front of Sawyer had nearly caused the destruction of the Esmeralda, Sawyer had no business, no business at all, feeling sorry for it.
However.....
"You'll have to stand some kind of trial first, I suppose," Sawyer guessed. Abruptly he found himself working very hard and not too successfully to suppress a smile.
"To my knowledge, no Plooran has ever been tried in a Space Federation court before. I expected they'll have to make some rather novel arrangements to prevent you from becoming, say the judge or the jury computer.
"But you did save the Esmeralda from the Sebaceans. You've done both good and evil to us in a very short space of time, Plooran."
"Peter Griffin will serve as well as any name, Captain. He has not had need of it for many months, now. And somehow the name feels----right."
"Okay, Griffin. It will be up to the court to decide whether or not saving us from the very difficulty you plunged us into the first place obviates your initial belligerence." He touched the back of his neck, remembering.
"Personally, I don't intend to press charges. And I don't think anyone else will, either. It's the gentlest assault I've ever been subjected to."
"Thank you, Captain."
"Until we can put you planetside, I think it would be best for the mental stability of my crew if you remained in the guise of Peter Griffin."
"I understand, Thomas Sawyer." Its arms lifted and crossed. Lt. R'ress hadn't witnessed the transformation yet, and she hissed softly. Once more the orange alien was gone, Peter Griffin stood in its place.
"I'm also afraid," Sawyer continued, trying to put some bite into his voice, "that I'll have to ask you to remain under guard. I'm beginning to trust you, I think, but..."
"That's all right, Captain," smiled Griffin. "You'll feel better knowing I'm under observation, at least until we are back in Space Federation-controlled territory. Knowing that the pair of pants you put on in the morning really are a pair of pants."
"You've appropriated Griffin's sense of humor, too, I see." Sawyer's smiled grew. "I think you're going to be all right---Peter. I'll buzz security. One guard ought to be enough." He edged a hand toward the call button.
"Captain, could you possibly assign me that duty?" Sawyer had totally forgotten about Brenda Chenowith. He glanced over at her. In doing so he completely missed the expression of surprise that had come over Peter Griffin's face.
"But...." Griffin stuttered, "you have seen me. You know what I am."
"I've been a starship officer for some years now, Peter," she whispered. "You see, I've changed a little, too. Since we've been apart I've seen a lot of strange things pinwheeling about this universe, even a few that might shock you. In the final analysis form doesn't seem nearly as important as certain other things."
"As Peter Griffin---even as a part of him----I think there's a better life for you than the Sebaceans or anyone else can offer. Oh, damn!" She actually stamped her foot. "I don't know how to say it---can we at least talk about that?" Her eyes were imploring.
"I don't.....know." Sawyer saw that Griffin was totally confused. This was the last thing he'd ever anticipated. Helplessly he looked to Sawyer, who nodded at Brenda.
"You have the guard detail, Lieutenant."
She smiled. "Thank you, sir." She gazed back at Peter Griffin with a look of....Sawyer shook his head. Brenda Chenowith was right. The universe was indeed full of beautiful, strange and unexpected surprises.
They headed for the elevator.
As it happened, Finn was on his way up in the same cab. He moved to one side and watched as alien and Brenda got in. The door closed behind them.
The doctor stood pondering for a moment. Then he crossed to where the Esmeralda's three other senior officers were clustered in animated conversation.
"You got him."
"Accurate conclusion, doctor."
Finn's mouth twisted. "Ho-ho-ho and a Merry Christmas to you, too, Balus." He looked over at Sawyer. "I'm glad to see him under guard, Tom. If he'd turned into a second Spock, it would have been too much to take."
How prophetic are the idle jests of man! There would come a time when Finn would have occasion, if not the desire, to recall that phrase.
But for now it only provoked an innocent chuckle from Sawyer and Gordon.
"Perhaps so, doctor," the first officer of the Esmeralda agreed. "But then, two doctor Finns might just bring the level of medical efficiency on this ship up to acceptable minimums."
"Careful, Doctor Finn," warned a grinning Tony as Finn, topped again, did a slow burn. "I'm not sure life-support can keep things livable with all the heat you're putting out."
"Heat? I'll give you heat.....!" Finn began.642Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡtaf2icjztx
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