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Kirk and Spock had sprinted into the corridor, but knew it would be too late to catch the escapee. Garth of Izar. With that ruined face…they knew that’s who it must be. And they knew what he wanted.
As one, without the necessity for words, they returned to the transporter room. Kirk punched the communication button on the console while Spock fetched various cleaning materials from the first aid room.
“Kirk to bridge. Come in Scotty,” barked Kirk.
“Scott here, sir,” came back the Lt. Commander’s voice.
“This is an emergency, Scotty. Under no circumstances is anyone to enter or leave the bridge until Mr. Spock and I arrive there.”
“Very good, sir,” said Scotty calmly.
Spock was wielding a mop. He glanced up at his Captain, but knew that Kirk had probably just stopped for breath. And indeed it was so. “And when I say Mr. Spock and I, I mean just that. If either of us enters the bridge alone, clap him in irons. Understood?”
“Um…yes, sir,” said Scotty.
“I’m going to repeat that, Scotty. Both Mr. Spock and I will be heading for the bridge shortly. Both of us have to arrive there. If either of us arrives without the other, clap him in irons.”
“Yes, sir. Understood, Captin.”
“All right, Scotty. I’ll explain when we get there. Kirk out.”
Ensign O’Dell had regained his feet and was wiping his face with a cloth which Spock had given him.
“I’m sorry, sir,” he said shakily. “I just..I never saw anything like it…”
“Don’t worry about it, O’Dell. Take over cleanup from Mr. Spock, will you?”
Kirk punched another button. “Kirk to Security. I want a security detail to the transporter room. On the double.”
“Yes, sir,” came a voice.
Within five minutes, seven red-shirted security guards entered the transporter room. Their commander, Lieutenant Agatha Parker, saluted. “Security detail as requested, sir.”
While he waited, Kirk had punched up a photo of Governor Donald Cory on the computer screen, and printed out a map of the Elba II facility.
“Lieutenant,” said Kirk, handing her the map, “an inmate has escaped from Elba II and is currently aboard this ship. Somewhere down there is the governor of the colony, Donald Cory. I want you to find him. I also want you to assume that the rest of the inmates of the asylum are running loose, and you are to capture them. Remember that you’re dealing with the criminally insane. I don’t want any casualties, either from your detail or among the inmates.”
“Understood, sir,” said Parker.
Kirk paused, and glanced at Spock. “Anything to add, Spock?” he said.
“I suggest that a guard be left here, with Ensign O’Dell. I also suggest, Lieutenant Parker, that your security detail stick together. If you must separate, at the very least always stay in twos.”
Parker nodded again. “Understood.” She glanced at her detail – five men, one woman. “Dutch,” she said. “You’ll remain here with Ensign O’Dell.”
Dutch was big and burly, and he didn’t look happy to be chosen to babysit the transporter crewman, but he merely said, “Yes, ma’am.”
“When you find Governor Cory, Lieutenant, you will bring him aboard the Enterprise immediately, and inform me of that fact. He is your first priority. Also…also, secure a woman named Dr. Evangeline. I’ll want to talk with her shortly.”
“Yes, sir,” said Parker again.
“All right, Mr. Spock, let’s get to the bridge.”
Garth of Izar was incandescent with rage. It was a mindless rage, burning white hot within him, as he strode along the corridors of the Enterprise. He had no destination in mind…he knew only that he must control this rage before he could do anything and he could not control it. He wanted to find a private spot somewhere and just destroy whatever came into his hands.
Of course, he was not so angry that he had neglected to shape-shift his face back to his favorite appearance of it. Clear grey eyes, long, straight nose, full lower lip, high cheekbones. A rather handsome face. It wasn’t his original face…for some reason he couldn’t stand to look at himself with his original face, but this one was a nice substitute.
The concentration needed to maintain that face was very slight…nevertheless he had to be conscious to do so. He dreaded going to sleep at night, knowing that in his sleep his face would revert to its real condition. But when he awakened, at the first snatch of consciousness he returned it to what he wanted it to be.
Occasionally he passed by a crewperson, either walking in his direction or approaching opposite him, but they paid him no mind as that burning rage was kept behind an impassive façade. He paid only the barest attention to them. Just enough to make them see, should their eyes land on him, that he was indeed wearing a Federation uniform, rather than that simple blue tunic that had been his wear on Elba II.
For while Garth had the ability to control his cellular form, he had no power over his clothing. What he did have power over, however, was other people’s minds. Oh, not a very great power. He had only the power to make them see what he wanted them to see…in this case…the fact that he was wearing a gold shirt and black slacks. And he could not control more than six people at once…he’d have to be careful of that…it would be best if he found a uniform as quickly as possible and changed into it.
Garth’s fists clenched. Captain Kirk’s uniform, for choice.