This choice: Continue reading "Double Double" • Go Back...Chapter #34Double Double (9) by: Seuzz   Chapter 9
KIRK WAS ON HIS BACK, peering up through a hatch into the housing of the auxiliary micro-printing units, when the new Brown entered. "We're being hailed by a ship," he reported.
Kirk scrambled to his feet. "Who are they?"
"They identify themselves as the Rheingold. They're giving no other information, other than that they are in orbit."
That was fast, Kirk thought. It was only two days, he estimated, since he started the beacon.
He preceded Brown into the parlor and pointed him to the console while he took up station out of sight of the monitor. Brown sat, and when Kirk pointed at him he answered the signal.
"Rheingold," he said, "this is First Mate Hiram Brown of the Meadowlark. Thank you for answering our signal." He caught Kirk's eye, and Kirk smiled encouragingly at him.
"Meadowlark, this is Wilhelm Grundfest, captain of the Rheingold. What can we do for you?"
Kirk cocked his head at the voice. There was a trace of an accent in it. German, it sounded like.
"Do you have transporters?" Brown asked.
"Affirmative. Do you need to be beamed aboard?"
"Negative. At least not yet. But we need a party to come down here."
"What for? It looks hellaciously cold down there."
"That it is, Captain Grundfest. But we have a cargo down here that needs transporting, and you'll want to take a look at it before agreeing to take it off our hands."
Kirk came around the desk to join Brown at the monitor, which displayed the visage of a grossly fat and unshaven man. Piggish eyes peered out over flabby cheeks that were stubbled with the fine, blonde hairs of what would be, at best, a very patchy beard.
Kirk smiled inwardly, both on account of the man and on account of his correct deductions. Ship's academies, both Starfleet and others, had a way of drilling accents out of their cadets, so Captain Grundfest was likely a captain only in the sense that he owned and operated his own ship. And the man's morbid obesity suggested he was both lazy and greedy. Poor attributes for the brigade he was having to assemble, but the ripest possible victim for his first subterfuge.
"Yes, Captain Grundfest," Kirk said. "I'm First Cargo Officer Zezel of the Meadowlark. We have some very bulky items down here that need transporting. Naturally, we don't want to take up any of your time if you are unable to assist us. What is the capacity of your vessel?"
"Half a million cubic meters. But we already have a cargo."
Kirk pretended to mull this.
"That might be a little small for what we have to transport. But I tell you what. You and your own chief cargo officer should beam down and have a look at it. It might be worth while to ... offload your current cargo here."
A mix of doubt and curiosity showed on man's fat face. "What exactly is the cargo?"
"This is an open channel, Captain," Kirk said with slight emphasis. "I can assure you that there is nothing illicit here. Only bulky. But potentially very valuable. All I am willing to say is that we chanced on a wreck here. It turned out to be more than we alone could handle. And for reasons that will be ... apparent ... when you see it, you'll understand that it would be inadvisable to make multiple trips here to retrieve the salvage. And so," Kirk concluded as the lines tightened around Grundfest's eyes, "we are willing to turn over seventy-five percent of the salvage revenues to you in return for your help in getting it off Exo III."
If an android had a breath to hold, Kirk would have held it. He was perturbed when the man did not lunge at the offer—calculated to be irresistible—and grew more concerned as the captain clearly hesitated. What did he have to be worried about?
"Where's your ship now?" Grundfest finally asked, with what he probably thought was a shrewd inflection.
"We were unable to take off with the load," Kirk said, "and were wrecked ourselves." He held Grundfest's gaze as the other's eyes widened.
"I will send a party down to assess your situation," the captain of the Rheingold said. "What are your coordinates?"
"Mr. Brown will give them to you. He will also give you a time to beam down. We are sheltering beneath the planet surface, and it will take us some time to send a party up to meet you."
He straightened up to watch and listen as Brown gave Grundfest a time and location, and also advice on the kind of protection to wear against the cold. When he was done and the comm link closed, he said, "That was very well done, Brown."
"Thank you, sir." The eyes of the new Brown—in contrast to those of the old Brown who, like his other doppelganger, was now a torn husk hidden in the supply room—were clear and free of doubt. Yes, there had probably been some degradation in the mental pattern. (Korby's notes warned that errors could easily creep in, and would rapidly multiply if copies were made of copies.) But the "obedience module" Kirk had introduced into the base algorithm that controlled all the androids had made a great difference to the new Brown's manner and attitude.
But neither was his new companion a mindless servitor. "May I ask, captain," Brown continued, "why you took over the conversation? I thought I was fully briefed on what you wanted me to say."
"You were, and you did an excellent job. But I wanted to look at the man, to confirm my suspicions."
"Your suspicions, sir?"
"That he is the kind of man we want. Sometimes it is a Starfleet vessel that answers these calls. That is why I did not want to answer it myself, in case our signal was answered by someone who knew the human James T. Kirk. But Captain Grundfest—"
Kirk's eyes hardened, as his original's would have hardened at the sight of the Rheingold's captain.
"He's a fat fool," he said. "We have nothing to fear from him."
But the android Kirk might have been given pause if he had heard the conversation being carried out on the Rheingold at that moment.
"I don't like it," Grundfest was telling his crew, whom he had summoned to the bridge. "It sounds too good, and their 'cargo man' stinks of officer training. They're baiting a trap, I can feel it." He rubbed his face, which was greasy with sweat. "I'm almost decided to break orbit without even telling them goodbye."
He glanced around the faces of his crew, studying their reactions. Meisner's thoughts were unreadable, as they were always unreadable except when he was complaining of overwork. Zhironovsky looked confused and a little scared. Siemens was glancing at Zimmerman, obviously trying to pick up a cue from the chief engineer.
And Zimmerman? He looked angry.
"If we do break orbit," hesaid after a sullen silence, "what speed will you be asking me to give you?"
"What does that matter?" Grundfest snarled.
"What it means, captain," Zimmerman said, biting off the honorific, "is that you almost wrecked my engines, not to mention risked all our lives, to get us out here on the chance that there was a fortune in dilithium crystals, or something, waiting for us. But now that you're here, and you're being offered that fortune, you're talking of tucking tail and running."
Grundfest felt his face burning as he glowered back.
"In the first place," he roared, "they're my engines! I bought them and I paid for the upgrades! So I can wreck them if I want! In the second place—!"
But he broke off as his breath came in quick gasps. That was happening a lot lately. All this extra weight he was carrying around. The physician he saw at the last Starbase had warned him about it. He clutched the back of his command chair and forced himself to calm down.
"I wasn't expecting a fortune," he said in a quieter tone of voice. "Just a chance at a reasonable return. But now we have been offered a fortune. And that scares me. Yes, it does."
"How much of a fortune?" Zhironovsky asked. His chin tilted. "A million?"
"What we're all wondering, captain," Meisner said, "is why we chased a priority-seven if we're not even going to find out what it is they're offering."
"So we all beam down and get captured and killed by men who could be Orion pirates, for all we know?" Grundfest snarled.
"We wouldn't all be beaming down anyway," Zimmerman said. "Someone's got to stay and look after the ship."
"So who will beam down?" Grundfest demanded. "Volunteers? I wouldn't want it on my conscience if I ordered anyone down and they—"
"I'll go, captain," said Zhironovsky, and Meisner, after a glance at the cargo manager, also nodded. "I would be going down anyway," Zhironovsky continued, "to have a look at this cargo."
Grundfest stared, then waved his hand in disgust.
"Have at it, then," he said. "Though you'll probably freeze your asses off before the gang down there can lay their hands on you."
* * * * *
To continue investigating the room: "Disposing of Lucy"    indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
| Members who added to this interactive story also contributed to these: |
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
More by this author