***    TWENTY    ***                   223


            Aboard the Enterprise, for the first time in weeks, a

       decidedly festive mood prevailed.  It was the day of Mister Sulu's

       gala event, and virtually all off duty personnel were in

       attendance.  The shuttle hanger was decorated with colorful

       ornaments both familiar and alien.  The ceiling was lit up with

       plasma energy beams that were in synchronous rhythm with the exotic

       music.  By all accounts the costume ball was a success.

            It was Spock's own decision to attend the ball, in the

       interest of bettering his inter-personal relationship between

       himself and the crew.  As acting captain, the responsibility fell

       to him, to instill confidence in his crew as their leader.  Thus he

       must be close enough to them as to be an example to them.  This was

       one of the reasons that he had been content remaining the First

       Officer, rather than becoming a Starship's captain.

            Spock stood off in the far corner of the vastly spacious

       shuttle-bay.  Spock was the only person with whom the expression,

       'having a good time', did not apply.  Though he found the music

       pleasant, himself being an accomplished musician, it did not seem

       to be enough to motivate him to join in playing.  He was with the

       crew physically, but there was a complete detachment socially.

       They were, he could discern, uncomfortable with his presence.

       Spock was well aware of the reason why this was so.

            In giving Mr. Sulu the responsibility of determining his

       attire, he had not taken into account the fact that many "costume

       balls" have a central theme.  This particular one had the theme of

       'Man's best friend- Come as your favorite animal'.  He had also

       neglected to anticipate Mr.  Sulu's, how you would say, taste in










                                                                      224
       the unusual or his flair for the unconventional.  So there was

       Spock, in the corner of the launch bay, trying to look dignified,

       standing erect with his arms folded behind his back and dressed

       like a giant,  white,  tribble.

            Most of the crew wore modest costumes, Starfleet issue

       clothing with a half-mask of a bird, or a lion or some creature

       from another world.  Nothing elaborate.  Spock and Sulu were the

       only ones who were wearing full body costumes.

            Sulu, with a degree in botany, dressed like his favorite

       plant-Gurtrude.  He was having a grand time, dancing and

       socializing, conversing and laughing with the others.  It had only

       just occurred to him, while looking across the room at the lone and

       fuzzy Vulcan, that perhaps he had made a bad call in choosing his

       commander's costume.  There was no harm intended.  In fact, Sulu

       had given the matter plenty of thought to find an outfit that would

       fit in with the theme.  The only animal that he even remotely

       remembered Spock having a fondness for, was the time Cerano Jones

       let the furry little animals loose on Space Station K-7, almost one

       year ago.  Spock was seen holding and petting his own little ball

       of fluff.

            'Poor Spock,' Sulu felt the embarrassment for him.

            The crew had great respect for the Vulcan.  But it had always

       been difficult for them to try to establish anything more than a

       professional relationship with him.  It was just plain hard to

       understand a being who showed no emotion, and could be intimidating

       with his intellect alone.  At the moment, however, it was out of

       respect that they avoided him.  They had no idea as to what to say

       to him.  Occasionally one would muster up the courage to ask him if










                                                                      225
       he was enjoying the music or offer him some punch.  One pretty,

       young ensign even asked him to dance.  Spock, of course, politely

       declined.

            Sulu felt completely responsible.  And rightly so.  He thought

       it was time that he attempted to remedy the situation or in the

       least, ease his own conscience.  He moved across the room casually,

       waving to a friend and picking up a drink as he went.  Then

       nonchalantly, he eased himself next to the science officer and

       stopped, pretending to have 'just happened by'.

            "Do you approve of the party, Mister Spock?" the Oriental

       officer asked.

            The top of the furry mass turned toward Sulu, hands still

       formally clasped behind his back.  "It appears to be quite a

       positive diversion for most of the crew, Mr. Sulu," the slightly

       muffled voice of Spock, came through, loosening a little tuft of

       fuzz, that floated gently through the air.  "I thank you for

       attending to the arrangements."

            Sulu tried to look his superior officer in the eyes, but could

       not locate them through the hair.  "If your costume is too warm for

       you, we all would understand if you were to get out of it, Sir,"

       he finally managed.

            "Unfortunately, Mr. Sulu, Vulcanian life forms are quite

       accustomed to heightened temperatures," he stated in fact.

       "However, if your comment was intended to offer relief from

       embarrassment, I assure you that I am beyond such emotions.  But I

       thank you, anyway."

            "No, uh no, I just thought, well,"  Sulu's stammering was

       cut short, mercifully, by the distinctly feminine voice over the

       








                                                                      226
       comm. speaker.

            "Mr. Spock, please report to the bridge." Uhura's voice

       sounded through the ship. "Mr. Spock, please report to the bridge."

            "If you will excuse me, Mr. Sulu," Spock's voice managed

       through the dense fur.  Slowly but with purpose, Spock crossed the

       bay.  It was obvious that he could see out of the costume.  The

       fact that he neither bumped into anyone, nor tripped over anything

       was the only indication of that.

            It was difficult for the crew to refrain from staring, as the

       enormous tribble moved across the room.  They admired the man, deep

       within the suit, but the sight of him was almost irresistibly

       humorous.

            On the bridge, Commander Montgomery Scott held the center

       seat.  He heard the turbo lift doors part and the First Officer

       enter the bridge. He eased himself out of the Captain's chair,

       feeling much better physically, nearly healed, and turned towards

       Spock.  Scotty's mouth dropped open, never suspecting that Spock

       had attended Sulu's ball.

            "Mr. Spock?" Scotty asked with uncertainty.

            "Yes, Mr. Scott, it is me," assured Spock.

            "I'm sorry, Sir, I didna know you were at the party." The

       Scottsman looked at the costumed man for a moment, "An onion, are

       ya?"

            "I am a tribble, Mr. Scott," Spock stated patiently.

            Uhura lay her head down on her communication console letting

       the material of her uniform absorb the tears and tried to quell the

       convulsive heaves of silent laughter.  She had been in no mood for

       the party earlier, and after receiving the sub-space transmission

       








                                                                      227
       of a moment ago, did not believe she could be moved to even smile.

       She was surprised at herself that she was forced to cup both her

       hands over her mouth to hold in the laughter that, even now,

       threatened to exit out her nostrils.

            "Ah, that was going to be ma second guess, Sir," said Scotty,

       in momentary good humor.

            "I assume that I was summoned to the bridge for a purpose, Mr.

       Scott?"

            "Yes, Sir, Lieutenant Uhura was monitoring all sub-space

       transmissions, all bands and multicasts as ordered," he said, now

       almost gravely.  "It's the Captain, Sir.  He's been arrested by

       Starfleet for attempting to assassinate the Klingon Emperor."

            "Lieutenant Uhura," Spock said, as he began removing his

       costume.  "Please replay the transmission on the foreword

       viewscreen."

            "Aye, sir," she said, sniffing and wiping the last of the

       tears from her eyes.

            The large viewer changed from the stellar display of their

       forward movement, to that of a reporter standing outside the

       Supreme Assembly Hall.

                 "This is Chad Ulmelmahay, of the Info-net Multicast
            System, coming to you live from just outside the UFP Assembly
            Hall where an assassination attempt was made on the visiting
            Klingonese Emperor, Mokdoor Jek Trauma and our own President
            of the Assembly."

                 "Ten minutes ago the Assembly delegates voted 'for' the
            admission of the Klingon people to become full Federation
            members.  At the moment of the Emperor's charter signing, an
            armed man, who sources confirmed to be Captain James Kirk of
            Starfleet, forced his way into the conference with a charged
            phaser.  He was said to have murdered two delegates in his
            rampage of terror.  Ambassador zzUTccl, of Dolnick Three and
            Ambassador Fino Benze of Coridan were among his victims.  He
            then was reported to have severely stunned sixty-three more










                                                                      228
            delegates, in order to get closer to his intended victims."

                 "Moments before he could complete his insane scheme, he
            was rendered unconscious by Starfleet Security.  It reportedly
            took twelve guards to bring the crazed Starfleet Captain to
            the floor, while he was raving about hating the Klingon Empire
            and the President's intra-galactic policy."

                 "The Emperor is reported to be safe now, aboard his
            Throneship and preparing to take word of our friendship to the
            uttermost parts of his Empire.  Not even shaken from this
            assault, the Emperor said he had pity on this poor demented
            individual.  His final words were 'Peace must be pursued, but
            I'll be back'."

                 "We will continue coverage of the events here and will
            follow the court-martial that is sure to follow, including
            exclusive interviews with the families of the slain victims."

                 "Until then, this is Chad Ulmelmahay, of the Info-
            net Multicast System, where we are dedicated to bringing
            you the Truth, 24 hours a day, with limited commercial
            interruptions.  Now a word from our sponsors..."

            Uhura shut the image off and returned the viewer to its

       previous display.

            Spock rested himself heavily in the captain's chair, laying

       his costume on the floor.  He set foreword in his seat and

       contemplated the dilemma his captain was now in.  He had no doubt

       that some of the information was 'inaccurate' at best, but the

       bottom line was that the mission was a failure.  Jim would now have

       to pay a heavy price for it.  'Perhaps we all shall,' Spock's

       thoughts spoke to him.

            "Lieutenant Uhura, you will not allow the rest of the crew to

       see this or any other multicast until I give you a direct order to

       the contrary."

            "Aye, Sir," She said.  She was hoping that he would say that

       very thing.

            Just then the lift doors parted, and in stepped Dr McCoy with

       his personal video recorder held in front of his face.  He panned










                                                                       229
       the bridge and rested it on the man occupying the captain's chair.

       "Oh no! Don't tell me I'm too late!" he said in loud frustration.

       "I made it to the ball and heard what you were wearing, so I got my

       recorder and ran up here!"

            Spock did not acknowledge the Doctor's presence on the bridge.

       Spock's thoughts were for his Captain. 'Perhaps it is fitting,'

       thought Spock, 'that I honor Jim by allowing myself to feel sorrow

       for him.' Then he stopped himself.  He became aware that this was

       something that he could neither keep to himself nor participate in

       alone.

            Spock made the decision which he thought his captain would

       approve of.  He pressed the intra-ship comm. button on his chair,

       channeling his voice to every corner of the ship.

            "This is Spock, I require the attention of all aboard.  Our

       Captain is away on a desperate mission.  Our mission is no less

       desperate.  I have decided that you need to know what it is that we

       are facing.  I will go into detail with you as to what that is, in

       a moment.  But first I want you to know that Captain Kirk needs

       you,  needs us.  There is nothing we are able to do at this time

       but remember him in a moment of silence.  If you are so inclined,

       it is my estimation that the Captain needs your prayers.  Let us at

       least wish him well and remember him, now.