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A Jeffries tube loomed nearby. The Plooran, using its ability to look in all directions at once, satisfied itself that no pursuer was in sight. Then it clambered into the tube.
Moving like a giant flatfish that had somehow sprouted four legs, it made its way up the channeled interior. Footsteps sounded below, far away now, muffled with increasing distance---as Sawyer and the security squad raced through the corridor below.
Near the top, the alien paused and crossed upper tentacles. Once more it shifted to the shape of Peter Griffin. A few more centimeters, a careful look both ways and then he scrambled out of the tube onto a new deck, setting the tube cover back into place.
There were disadvantages as well as advantages to assuming human form. For one thing, he could no longer see in all directions. So he didn't see Brenda Chenowith until he rounded a corner and nearly ran her down. She staggered and reflexively, it seemed, he caught her to keep her from falling.
But this time, instead of moving into his arms, she pushed away and brought up her security phaser. It centered squarely on his chest.
Affecting an air of mild surprise he looked first at the phaser, then up at her.
"My God, Brenda! What are you doing?"
"My duty," she replied tightly. "It's not hard to guess who the intruder is. You're the only stranger aboard, Peter. Or whatever you are. A----a Plooran." Running footsteps sounded from somewhere behind them. She stared at him, then threw a quick, nervous look over her shoulder.
It was just an instant, but Peter Griffin's reflexes were faster than human. He knocked the phaser from her hand. It skittered across the deck to bounce off the far wall. She ran to recover it. At the same time, Sawyer and a small posse of security personnel rounded a far curve.
Brenda picked up the phaser, turned, and dropped to one knee, holding the phaser in both hands and balancing an elbow on her thigh. It was easy to aim for the distant figure. She had a clear shot.
But she didn't fire. Instead, she slowly lowered the phaser to her side.
The security team pounded past in pursuit. Sawyer slowed and stopped beside her.
"Lieutenant Chenowith, you could have stopped him---it. Why didn't you fire?"
She spoke slowly as she got to her feet, without looking at him. "I couldn't. I know some explanation is needed, Captain, but...." She couldn't think of anything to say that would make her sound less of an idiot.
"I knew he had to be the intruder, but---I couldn't bring myself to fire!" Her voice was trembling.
"He's an alien, Lieutenant----not Peter Griffin. A Plooran. A heavyset shape-changing creature with four pillar-like legs and four tentacles topped by an inhuman brain."
"My mind tells me that, Captain, but there are other parts of me that don't convince so easily." There, she was right. She still sounded like an idiot.
"Lieutenant," and Sawyer's voice was surprisingly devoid of reproach, "the man you loved no longer exists. Peter Griffin is dead. He's probably been dead for years."
"I realize that, Captain. But I just----" She turned away. Words had become thoroughly inadequate. "Reason and love don't work well together."
"When you're a commander, you can be profound, Lieutenant. For now..." He didn't get the chance to finish. Spock arrived, panting slightly.
"Security teams report no sign of the alien on this deck and longer, Captain."
"How do they know, Mr. Spock?" Sawyer sighed. "I was afraid of this. Once out of sight, he can turn into anyone or anything aboard this ship. I wonder why he chose to re-form as Peter Griffin, instead of as Dr. Finn or me?"
"I cannot guess, Captain. I can only surmise that this constant shape-changing is not as easy for him as it appears to be to us. He needs a form capable of mobility now; an examination table or section of wall will no longer do, for example. Maybe changing into a familiar shape is simpler and less tiring. He is well acquainted with the shape of Peter Griffin."
"As a matter of fact," Sawyer began, then paused, grinning sardonically. Spock watched him patiently.
"You can at least share the idea with me, Captain, in place of the actual humor."
"Oh, nothing, Spock. for a minute it occurred to me----I thought..." and he grinned wider, "I thought that you might be the Plooran now." Spock didn't smile, which was hardly a surprise.
"What makes you think I'm not, Captain?" Both eyebrows moved ceilingward. Sawyer stopped chuckling, and gave Spock an uncertain glance before grinning again.
"The Plooran can change his shape, but not certain other things. I think I'll take a chance on you being you, Spock."
"That is most considerate of you, Captain. We find ourselves in complete agreement on who I am. The question remains," and he paused for effect, "Are you who you claim to be?"
"I was with Lieutenant Chenowith while the alien was still present," Sawyer claimed indignantly. "It's a definite problem, all right. If we're not careful he'll have us shooting at each other. But given time, we'll find him. It's only one problem."
Somewhere in space exists a formless, malignant entity that listens to the words of starship captains merely for the chance of playing their plans false. Said entity must have been listening to Sawyer, for, as if on cue, the red-alert signal now commenced its visual and aural clamoring. A blinker just above them flashed insistently for attention.
Various crewmembers began to appear, running towards their battle stations. As any well-drilled crew should, they ignored their two senior officers in single-minded pursuit of current objectives---namely, getting to where they belonged as fast as was inhumanly possible.
"Now what?" Sawyer's question was more resigned than hopeful. He moved to the flashing wall communications hookup.
"Bridge? Sawyer here. Tony? What's happening up there? What's the Plooran up to now?"
"It's not the Plooran, Captain," the chief engineer replied. "I wish it were. Two Sebacean battle cruisers, sir, and if they're not on an intercept course we're about to witness the biggest cosmic coincidence since that double star in N-42 went nova together."
"All right, Tony, keep a lid on things. We'll be right up."
"You were saying about only dealing with one problem, Captain?"
"Spock, if I didn't know that you weren't prone to malicious sarcasm, I'd----never mind."
By the time they'd regained the bridge and Sawyer had resumed his seat in the commander's chair and Spock his own at the library computer, the two Sebaceans were close enough for visual contact via the telescopic eyes of the main telescreen.
If there was any chance that they might have been Space Federation ships, that hope was soon laid to rest at the sight of their distinctive silhouettes. In design and basic construction, they were similar to the battle cruisers of the Psychlo Empire. Insignia and certain minor but unmistakable differences branded them as Sebacean.
Sawyer's first thought was to get something down on record. Not only in case hostilities ensured, but also because such information would be needed for any legal actions that might arise out of this encounter. So he quickly activated the log.
He was about to begin the entry when a sudden thought struck him. No, not yet. It was too early to plan for pessimistic eventualities. He flicked off the official log, and switched on the general recorder instead.
"Mr. Gordon, any chance of us outrunning them?"
"Not now, sir," worried Gordon, shaking his head once. "They were right on top of us, Captain before our sensors even picked 'em up."
"It was as if they were waiting for us, Captain," Ko-Ko added.
"Ummmm." Now he directed his voice and attention to the pickup grid. "Due to interference by the Plooran recently discovered on board in the guise of Peter Griffin, the Esmeralda has been detected by ships of the Sebacean Empire while violating the Sebacean Demilitarized Zone. By the terms of our treaty, the units of the Sebacean fleet have a legal right to seize the Esmeralda. To complicate matters, we have as yet been unable to apprehend the Plooran responsible for this situation."
Given the laws against harming intelligent neutrals, Sawyer naturally didn't add his attendant thoughts---namely, that if and when they did find the troublemaking shapechanger, he'd take great pleasure in taking a meat cleaver to the miserable beast!
But right now he had a more difficult situation to focus his attention on.
"We're being scanned, Captain," came Neytiri's voice. "And I'm picking up a communications beam. They're attempting to contact us." She hesitated. "Shall I throw up an interference screen, sir?" Sawyer thought quickly.
"No point in trying to stall them, Lieutenant. I've got a hunch this particular bunch won't stall." He smiled grimly. "Let's hear what they've got to say. If there's visual with it, put it on the screen. I'd like to see who I'm dealing with-----and if my face does them any good, they're welcome to it."
Visual there was.
When his thuggish image finally cleared on the main viewscreen the relaxed attitude of the Sebacean Peacekeeper only confirmed the suspicions taking root in Sawyer's mind.
"You appear to have a propensity for trespassing in the demilitarized zone, Captain Sawyer. I've been told it has happened once or twice before."
My, but wasn't he a smug one, Sawyer thought. What Sawyer said was different, however, smoothly conciliatory. That was the best attitude Sawyer could fake; he couldn't quite bring himself to be deferential towards this oily character.
"I didn't mean to."
The Sebacean Peacekeeper's reply was dry. "You Earthlings never do. However, the treaty is very clear about things like this. There are no provisions for good intentions, I'm afraid. I'd like to indulge the sentiment your people are so fond of and ignore the treaty this time, but, of course, any attempt to contravene the articles, even for friendship's sake, could mean war."
"What do you want me to do? Surrender?"
"Exactly, Captain. You will be well treated. We will release you and your crew at the nearest Space Federation colony bordering the demilitarized zone."
Sawyer thought furiously, considering. "I have your word of honor on that, Peacekeeper?...."
"Nafur----Peacekeeper Gerrais Nafur. I swear by my family and my command, Captain. You and your personnel have no worries." He tried hard not to gloat. "I have no personal quarrel with you. I must take your ship only to comply with the terms of the treaty between our two nations. I take no personal pleasure in this distasteful deed whatsoever."
I'll just bet you don't, you grinning gargoyle, Sawyer silently cursed. His return smile, however, was equally pleasant.
"I'd like a few minutes to inform my crew. There will be certain preparations required."
"Of course, Captain Sawyer. I understand quite well. The shock, and all. Take all the time you need---up to five minutes your ship time, no more." Abruptly, the telescreen blanked.
"Transmission ended, Captain," Neytiri informed him. "But they're still probing us."
"Fine. Let 'em probe us till their probing computers get an electronic headache." Sawyer turned and activated a switch on the right armrest. Spock left his station and moved to stand next to the captain.
"Sawyer to security. What's the status of the search for the Plooran?"
"Chenowith here, sir." The voice of the lieutenant was calm and professional now, no sign of emotional upset. Good. "No progress yet. We have all decks under constant patrol. No one has seen it, but..."
"How do you know, Lieutenant?" snapped a frustrated Sawyer. "Anyone might have walked right past the Plooran a dozen times without seeing it."
"I don't think so, Captain," Chenowith's response was firm and confident. "Our patrols have their phasers set on low-power stun. I've given orders that they're to randomly beam everything they pass---walls, ceilings, fixtures----without design or selectivity. We'll end up with a lot of scorched pain, but I think the Plooran will think twice before he considers staying in one disguise very long.
"And the patrols are traveling in tight groups, guarding each other. So I don't think there's much chance of him turning into one of our people. At least the alien will be too busy changing shapes to cause any more trouble."
Sawyer found himself in agreement with Chenowith's precautions. It should flush the alien out into the open. "Carry on, Lieutenant." He broke the connection and nodded toward the viewscreen where the Sebacean ships were displayed again.
"As Tony points out, Mr. Spock, this meeting is hardly a coincidence. The Sebaceans were expecting us from the first. The wreck of Griffin's ship---I wonder what happened to him. They slipped a saboteur and spy on board. And what better spy than a shape-changing Plooran who can become at will any of the spied-upon?
"When I went to my cabin he put me out long enough to take my shape. Then he came to the bridge and ordered the course change. By the time I recovered, well," he shrugged, "it was too late to swing free of the zone. A neat trap."
"It would seem so, Captain. Yet one thing continues to puzzle me."
"Spock?"
"How is it that the Sebaceans are able to persuade a Plooran to work for them? I cannot think of a logical reason why one of the shape-changers should. I cannot imagine what inducement the Sebaceans could offer."
"We'll consider the question of motivation later, Mr. Spock. Right now we've got a starship to save." He looked to the helm. "Open a hailing frequency, Lt. M'Rott. Neytiri, you keep listening for more of the same from our friends out there. And keep monitoring their scans."
The feline navigation officer moved to obey, her tail flicking in nervous response. "I have contact, Captain," she purred. "Hailing frrreequency was harrrdly necessarrry. They've been waiting forrr us to rrrespond, it seems."
Once more the view of the paired Sebacean cruisers was replaced by the image of their commander. He was making a strong attempt, Sawyer noted, to suppress his normal arrogance.
"Your time has expired, Captain. I assume you are now prepared to turn your ship over to me."
"Wrong assumption, Peacekeeper."
"Captain," protested the Sebacean indignantly, "you are outnumbered, outgunned, and legally in the wrong. I admire your courage, but permit me to say that you err in your tactical evaluation of the present situation."
"I have no choice, Peacekeeper," Sawyer shot back. "If I were an innocent violator of neutral space that would lead to some discussion, yes. But the treaty also states that deception of any kind----false beacons, signals, anything----used to lure a vessel into the demilitarized zone is a provocation by the luring side and not by the intruder. It is you who violated the treaty, not I."
"Lured, Captain?" protested the Sebacean with admirable outrage. "How could we possibly lure a fleet vessel so deeply into the demilitarized zone?"
"Through the use of a spy masquerading as a dead human named Peter Griffin."
The Sebacean commander paused to perform his race's equivalent of a sad shake of the head. "A shape-changing spy? Come now, Captain," he pleaded. "Your courage, it seems, goes hand in hand with your idiocy."
"You used a Plooran," Sawyer continued easily, "which, I might add, is also in violation of several treaties, not to mention a violation of the galactic quarantine of Ploor itself."
Either the Sebacean commander decided to abandon his bluff, or else all this forced camaraderie was getting on his nerves. His natural machismo abruptly came to the fore.
"Your five minutes are long since up, Captain. Either surrender your ship or prepare to fight."
"I will not surrender my ship," Sawyer replied, spacing the words deliberately.
So they were going to fight, mused Chief Engineer Gordon.
He had left the bridge after the red-alert signal and gone to his battle station back in engineering. They'd had trouble with the Sebaceans before and had come out okay. Even though they were outnumbered this time, he wasn't especially worried. Why they'd give...
He paused at the top of the spiral ladder. Just in front of him, away from the ladder exit, a crewman was working in front of an open panel. The panel shouldn't have been open. And no one, but no one, should have been working at those relays without Gordon's permission.
"Hey! What d'you think you're doin'?" The crewman turned quickly.
"Nothing, Chief." He walked over to the ladder exit and helped Gordon up the final step. "Just this."
He touched Gordon's shoulder with a hand. Moving rapidly, he managed to catch the slumping form of the chief engineer before it could slide back down the ladder. Pulling him gently out of the spiral he laid the limp body out on the deck. The crewman rose, again studying the open panel.
Someone else might come and he was in a hurry. Might as well revert to myself. The extra limbs might make the job go faster. He crossed his arms and blurred.
Using his four legs for support, the Plooran used two tentacles to tear at the thick cables running behind the open panel.....
The first red light appeared on Ko-Ko's console.
"Captain," he shouted as he worked frantically at the controls beneath the warning flash, "deflector shields are lowering!"
Sawyer cursed silently and pressed a switch on the chair. "Sawyer to engineering. Bridge to engineering! Tony, what the hell are you doing?! Our shields are falling!"
In the main engineering room, a tall subengineer rushed to the chattering intercom and acknowledged the call breathlessly.
"H.....here, sir."
"I don't think so. Who's talking?" Sawyer demanded. "Who are you?"
"Second Engineer Dobler, sir....Captain." Sawyer glanced back at Spock. This was no time for disciplinary action. "Get those shields back up, Dobler----now!"
"I can't, sir!" yelled the other helplessly.
"Well then, rouse Mr. Gordon from his nap and have him do it!" Now the response from the other end was one of total confusion.
"I was just going to speak to him, sir. Isn't he up forward with you?"
"No, he is not up forward with me, Mister. You know the chief's battle station is back there."
"Yes, sir. But he's nowhere around, sir."
"Well, then....!" Sawyer paused and counted to six, spoke more quietly. "All right, Mr. Dobler. We must have our shields back as soon as possible. Do the best you can."
"Aye, sir." Dobler switched off and looked around at the small cluster of engineers and technicians who'd gathered around the intercom station.
"Don't just stand there gaping like fools! The deflector shields have dropped. Check your telltales, trace the leads, find the trouble spot!"
Immediately the group rushed to their positions. Dobler ran to his, naturally, but his mind wasn't on the technical problem at hand.
What had happened to the chief?
Meanwhile, a telltale of a different kind was flashing on Ko-Ko's console. "Shuttle-bay doors are functioning, sir. The Plooran must be trying to escape."
"We still have some control over this ship," Sawyer muttered through clenched teeth. "Shut those doors, and lock all entrances to the shuttle bay."
Ko-Ko tried one switch and frowned.
"No response, sir."
"Manual override, Mr. Ko-Ko," came Spock's stoic voice. "Mechanism voluntary jam to prevent air loss." He glanced at Sawyer as Ko-Ko hurried to obey. "We will not be able to operate the shuttle doors until the stripped relays and gears are replaced, Captain."
Sawyer barely heard him. The same idea had occurred to him seconds after Spock had given the order.
"Doors closing, sir!" reported Ko-Ko excitedly. That was the signal for Sawyer to jump from his chair.
"One problem down. Spock, you have the conn. Talk to the Sebaceans. Stall them. Tell them anything. Tell them we're going to agree, but that I'm desperately thinking of a way to save face....their commander should understand that.
"Neytiri, send a security team to the shuttle deck but don't open the doors yet. We've got the Plooran trapped, that's enough for now. I'll be back in engineering. I've got to find out what the hell's happening back there."
As he hurried rapidly toward the starship's heart, Sawyer pondered their chances. The shields hadn't fallen all the way, but the Esmeralda's defenses had been badly weakened. Even with all shields up and operating at full strength, the Esmeralda versus two Sebacean battle cruisers wasn't exactly a mop-up operation.
Now, with their shield strength down at least 50%, well...
At least, he mused with savage satisfaction, they'd prevented the escape of a Plooran spy. Spock's query returned to him. He, too, wondered how the Sebaceans had managed to convince the shape-changer to do their grunt work for them. From what little was known of Plooran society, the alliance made no sense.
After what seemed like hours, he finally reached the main engineering bay. In response to his questions, a harried technician directed him up to another deck. A short climb and he emerged in the middle of another, bigger group of milling crewbeings. One directed him forward. He found Dobler and Gordon hunched over an open panel.
"What happened, Tony?"
"Hello, sir. I'm sure I don't know. I came up here to battle-check the backup deflector-shield relays." His voice took on a tone of puzzled outrage." And here was this common tech, calm as you please, tearing the connections to pieces!
"Now, the sight of me in such a situation ought to have frozen the bloke solid to the deck---working unauthorized with such equipment. Instead, he must smiled confident as you please and came over to help me on deck. That's all I can remember."
"He couldn't have been at it long, sir," put in Dobler. "We found the chief right after I spoke to you."
"He was at it long enough," growled Tony. The chief's attitude did not inspire feelings of confidence in Sawyer.
"How long will it take to fix, Tony?"
"Two hours at best, Captain."
Two hours!?
"Well, get on it. That's all." Sawyer turned and left. He knew better than to make melodramatic pronouncements. If Gordon said it would take two hours, it would do no good for Sawyer to say, "Do it in one!" The chief engineer's time estimates were as reliable as his work. Two hours then, working at warp speed, and he'd have his shields back.
But could they possibly stall the Sebaceans for two hours, when the Sebacean commander had given him five minutes, and those reluctantly? They might not have two seconds left!
They had one bargaining chip left, just one; that was the Esmeralda herself.
Already the Sebacean commander had admitted that his sole interest was in the starship---intact and in working order. If the Sebacean's sensors were worth a handful of components, they'd know by now that the Esmeralda''s shields had been severely weakened. Sawyer didn't think they'd hold off forcing a decision to give their Plooran a chance to escape. If he got away, all well and good---a bonus. If not, he had served his purpose.
However, they would hesitate before destroying the prize they'd worked so hard to snare. How long the vision of the Esmeralda as a captured ship would keep the Sebacean commander's natural belligerence in check Sawyer didn't know, and that was the crucial factor.
A destroyed Esmeralda would be a little blow to Space Federation strength compared to a fully operational captured one; a blow nevertheless.
Sawyer had no choice. He'd have to take the risk that the Sebaceans wanted the starship badly enough to hold off firing on her. Nerves, not phasers, would decide the outcome of this skirmish.
He smiled and felt a little better.
There were worse things to bet on than the avarice of a Sebacean…...
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