A Change of Heart

In the month since they'd been granted asylum on Vulcan, the humans had spent much of their time reconfiguring the HMS Bounty, as Dr. McCoy had irreverently renamed the Klingon ship.  Their duties filled two purposes: it made the vessel space worthy again and gave the restless humans something to do.  As the days dragged on, their spirits continued to sink, but they kept on, trying not to dwell on Star Fleet's action concerning their insubordination.
Kirk had made the decision for them to remain on Vulcan "until tempers back home cool down," and his attorney, the famous Samuel T. Cogley, had agreed.  He was busy on Earth representing Kirk and the others in preliminary court proceedings.  Admiral Kirk's cheery smile had faded in the grim reality of the situation, and he spent much of his time with Spock at Sarek and Amanda's house.

Dr. McCoy had taken the opportunity to study at the Vulcan Science Academy.  He had a room at the Academy, and the others saw him infrequently between his classes.  Soon he would know as much about Vulcan physiology as
Dr. M'Benga.

Uhura was finishing up the subspace carrier wave alignment when Sulu stuck his head onto the bridge.  "Uhura, Admiral Cartright has requested you report to Vulcan Starbase as soon as possible."

"Admiral Cartright is here on Vulcan?" she asked.

Sulu nodded and shrugged to indicate he didn't know any more about it than she did.  "Want some company?"

She stood, straightened her issue jacket, and thanked him for the offer, but decided she'd better go alone.  "Maybe he wants to mindsift us one at a time," she said and squeezed his arm warmly as she passed him.  “If I'm not back by sundown, send a posse," she joked.

Several hours later, Uhura returned while Sulu and Chekov were working on the bridge of the Bounty.  They halted their thrust ratio equations when they saw she was upset.

"What happened?" Chekov asked eagerly.

Uhura fell into the captain's chair with a sigh of exasperation.  "They want me to complete a mission while I'm here."

“But you're--" began Sulu, intending to remind her of her part in the destruction of the Enterprise.

"Admiral Cartright says that I am technically still in Star Fleet.  The most they have against me is possible misuse of a Star Fleet transporter station.  Since I've been on Vulcan, I have been officially on leave status."

"So what's the mission?" Chekov looked interested.

Uhura looked at both of them before replying.  "They want me to do a little public relations work."

"Like instructing or lecturing?" Now Sulu looked interested.

Uhura slowly shook her head.  "No, they want me to work with a film company while they are here on Vulcan.
Admiral Cartright said it would show good faith on my part if I helped them out.  Admiral Kirk says it probably wouldn't hurt my career."

"I wouldn't mind doing a Star Fleet documentary," Chekov told Sulu.

Uhura hid her face in her hands.  "It's not a documentary," she mumbled.  "It's a holodrama called 'Captain Zarafina.’ ”

“Captain-" Chekov was stunned.

"Zarafina!" Sulu made a conscious effort to control himself, but soon both crewmen were clutching their sides in helpless laughter.  “Isn't that the one where the gorgeous Star Fleet captain travels about the universe saving some new civilization every week?" Sulu gasped.

“I always thought it was amazing how her uniform manages to get torn in every episode."  Chekov was howling.

“Personally, I think that's about all it's got going for it." Sulu's laughter bubbled to the surface again, and Uhura's ears rang with his infamous horselaugh.

She couldn't think of anything she'd like doing less than providing technical advice to a bunch of film makers.   Unfortunately, the holodrama series had become so popular that the backers had decided to film an entire movie on exotic Vulcan.  Uhura wondered how they'd obtained permission from the Vulcan High Council and Star Fleet.  Maybe her mission would count as "time served" when she went to trial.

Chekov patted her knee affectionately after he wiped his tear-streaked face.  "I'm sorry, Uhura," he said.  "We're just jealous."

"Yeah," said Sulu, putting his hand on her other knee.  "If we're real nice to you, do you think you can get us an autograph?"

"Or even a tour of the set!" Chekov added in mock excitement.

"Cute," Uhura said, removing Chekov's hand.  "Real cute." Sulu's hand was next.  She stood up, lifted her chin, and looked down at the commoners at her feet.

"I'll see both of you in two weeks if I don't get discovered.  I can see it now: 'Captain Uhura, Queen of the Cosmos!’“

She fled, leaving the sounds of painful moaning behind her.

When Uhura joined the camera crew in the makeshift desert city they’d constructed, most of the cast were busy at work.  She was escorted around the elaborate temple set by a nice assistant to the vice director and introduced to the actors and crew as they completed their filming.

It was obvious that while the Vulcans had authorized the company to film on their planet, they had not permitted them access to the actual temples.  Uhura spotted several Vulcans, Shreekan guides, who protected clients foolish enough to enter the desert.  Uhura wondered who they were working for.

The set resembled a Grecian Parthenon and not a stark, beautiful piece of Vulcan architecture.  Her escort pointed out the enormous cost of shipping and building the sets and the popularity of Captain Zarafina.  Uhura met the frenzied director, the aging but still famous guest star, and the reason for them all being there--Pampa Gold, alias "Captain Zarafina."

The holodrama star was breathtaking.  Not since Harry Mudd's Venus drug had Uhura seen a woman who radiated such blinding beauty.  Her hair was pale gold and cut in such a way that it almost, but not quite, covered her left eye.  Her eyes were huge and alive with unequalled blue intensity.  Her nose was uneventful, yet, when combined with her prominent cheekbones, strong chin, and generous mouth, it was perfection itself.

"Captain Zarafina" was a fantastic piece of workmanship.  Every hair, every pore, every molecule of her lithe body sang with the joy of being part of that sublime package.  She filled out the tailored Star Fleet uniform better than anyone Uhura had ever seen.

Uhura's appreciation of the starlet goddess was even more pronounced because of the grotesque little man accompanying her.  Uhura, experienced with lifeforms of many unusual shapes and sizes, was taken aback by the feeling of physical "wrongness" in his human form.

He stood barely four feet tall, hunched to the right.  She noticed he dragged his right foot, and fleshy cords connected his right arm to his twisted upper body.  His face was swollen on the right side and shrunken on the left.  Patches of coarse, gray hair sprang out of his bumpy skull and fell over his right eye.  The man saw Uhura watching him and smiled feebly in her direction.  Then he turned to his mistress with a look akin to worship on his misshapen face.

The moment Uhura first saw the statuesque blonde, she realized she’d made a mistake in accepting the assignment.  She'd talked herself into putting up with the heat, the noise, and the disregard when steel-blue eyes had settled on the Star Fleet commander.  The assistant introduced them but names weren't important.  They already knew each other too well; they recognized each other's types.

Uhura’s mother had always told her that there were three types of beauty.  Some women’s inner beauty made them beautiful, some women’s inner beauty matched their outer beauty, and some women’s beauty was the thin, superficial kind that led to callousness and desperation.  Uhura instantly recognized Pampa for what she was, a woman who used her beauty to dominate people, a hollow shell.

Just as Uhura realized what Pampa was, Pampa knew the real thing when she saw it, and she hated Uhura for it.  When she saw sympathy in the commander's dark eyes, hatred replaced all reason within her pretty head.

"Monte!" she screamed at the director.  "MonTE!" When the excitable little man came running up, she questioned Uhura's presence on "her" set.  ”I mean, Monte," she raved, "how can I portray a typical woman in Star Fleet when all they send me are old maids?"

The director looked painfully at Uhura and informed Miss Gold of Star Fleet's deal--no Star Fleet advisor, no shooting on Vulcan.  No shooting on Vulcan, no top ten show.  Piqued, Pampa stormed off to her trailer, the odd
little man on her heels.

"My apologies, Commander," the director said.  "I'm afraid Miss Gold is tactless on occasion."

"Indeed," she said in her best Spock imitation.  It was going to be a difficult two weeks.

The director was summoned to avert a crisis in the operation of the plastifoam dragon, a phony monster protecting the very real Montani jewels (another publicity gimmick, decided Uhura).  After the little man had fled, Uhura asked her escort some questions about the flamboyant Miss Gold.  Something about the starlet and her gnome bothered Uhura.

"Is she always this friendly?" she asked.

The young man led her to the canteen and got them both drinks before answering.  He checked to make sure no one was close enough to overhear them.  “Well, some of the old hands say she used to be a nice person back when the show started, but you sure couldn't prove it by me.  I just stay out of her way."

"Is she from Earth?"

"Nah, some backward planet called Thomas II, I think."

For some reason, the planet's name sounded familiar to Uhura.  She sipped on her citris drink and went on.  "Who's that little man with her?"

"Oh, that's old Will.  He's her personal attendant although he's never well enough to do much for her."

"Can't the doctors do something for him?"

"Once, when it looked like his lungs were going to collapse because of his twisted ribcage, they went in and realigned some bones.  It didn't do any good; they slipped back the way they were, but his lungs kept on
working.  The doctors say he's not a good risk for further surgery."

"That's too bad," sympathized Uhura.

"Yeah, it really is.  Old Will's the nicest guy you'd ever want to meet.  He's always the first one to help anybody.  I remember once he called the medtechs on me for some virus, and when they tested me, damned if I didn't have it!  I didn't even feel sick.  Will always knows who's low and tries to cheer them up.  When you look at him, hangin' in there in his condition, you just naturally stop feeling sorry for yourself.  Poor thing gets worse every year.  But as long as he's around, she's not too bad."

Uhura didn't comment.  She'd seen empty eyes like Pampa's before, and she shuddered in spite of the heat.

The days dragged on and Uhura answered occasional questions pertaining to the correct wear of a Star Fleet uniform, space terminology, and information on aliens.  She became friends with her escort, David Marks, and joined the director for dinner several times.

She was observing yet another take of Captain Zerena, Zarafina's wicked twin sister and mortal enemy (actually Pampa is a long black wig), as she slipped into the temple for the Montani jewels.  Uhura had pointed out Star Fleet regulations on off-the-shoulder hair lengths for females but the director had chosen to ignore them in the name of "artistic license”.  Uhura believed she could have seen more artistry and less jiggling while watching Orion slave girls.

Without warning, the sky burst open and a sleek, black vessel roared over the encampment.  Tents, buildings, and people were scattered by the tremendous downdraft.  Uhura barely managed to keep her feet.  The air was filled with screams and the whine of a powerful starship engine.

Through the rising dust, Uhura could see Will pulling Pampa away from the temple.  She thought she saw them surrounded by a familiar transporter sparkle before her vision faded.

"We call them 'Jacks,’” Uhura explained to her two fellow prisoners.  "They steal anything and everything they can as long as it turns a profit." She glanced at her cellmates, Will and Pampa, and continued, "they must have been after something very important to risk the Vulcan orbiting defense network."

Pampa, unrecognizable in her dreadful black wig, stood up angrily.

"But Monte said they were only going to take the jewels--"  She stopped suddenly, realizing she'd said too much.

"So, another publicity stunt," Uhura said.  "You made sure the Jacks knew about the jewels.  You must have really wanted your show in the top ten."

"Why did they take us?" Will asked.  Uhura, as always, was surprised at the deep, rich voice that came out of the twisted mouth.

“One thing Jacks love almost as much as money is revenge." She looked meaningfully at Pampa's uniform.  "Star Fleet has been a lot of trouble to them; they'd love an excuse to kill two Star Fleet officers."

"But I'm an actress.  I'm not in Star Fleet!"

"Miss Gold, as an actress, you're worth a lot of money to them.  Your ransom will be millions of credits and will take years to arbitrate.  If Monte wants to spend that much time and money to get you back.  As a Star Fleet officer, I may be able to bluff you out of here."

"That explains you two, but what about me?" asked Will.

Uhura looked at him kindly.  "You were in the wrong place at the wrong time, Will.  I'm sorry."

The small room was very quiet as Will walked over to Pampa.  "I think you should do as the commander says.
She--"

"Shut up, you idiot!" the tall woman snarled at him.  He let her outburst wash over him without effect.

"Okay," she said hatefully.  "I'll do what you say."

"Good," said Uhura,  "give me your rank insignia."

"What?"

"I don't believe they had time to notice our rank when they wrestled us in here, and, while you're a professional actress, I don't believe you're able to keep up the role as a Star Fleet captain indefinitely."

Pampa gave her a sour glance and yanked off the rank on her shoulder strap.

"Sleeve, too," instructed Uhura and handed over her own commander's insignia.

It wasn't long before they were hauled in front of the Jack captain.  He was a short, fat man with a long beard favored by Jack men.  He grinned as they were pushed into the room.  On his lap sat a chest containing the Montani jewels.

"How dare you!" demanded Pampa, but Uhura stepped in front of her before the Jack guard could hit her.

The fat man looked Uhura up and down, and, having reached a decision, told her to keep her subordinates quiet.

"Subor--" Pampa fumed.

"Quiet!" ordered Uhura.  "Or the captain will not have to kill you, I shall do it myself."

"Ah," the Jack captain said with a smile, "it is good to see I am not the only one plagued with squeaking underlings."

"Commander ... Kirk is unfamiliar with deep space, Captain, and the dangers found there."

“Danger.  Yes, that reminds me that the three of you are sentenced to death.  Do you have any last requests?"

Uhura silenced her comrades with an upraised hand.  "Captain, Commander Kirk has never been involved in a Jack arrest and Mr. Will is a civilian, accidentally caught by your transporter beam."

Pampa and Will stood wide-eyed as they realized the sacrifice Uhura was making.  The Jack captain studied them carefully.

"You.”  He pointed at Will.  "Where are you from?"

"Thomas II," he answered immediately.  Uhura suddenly realized what had bothered her about the relationship between Pampa and Will.

"What do you do?" the Jack captain continued.

Before he could answer, Uhura interrupted.  "He is a wizard, Captain."

The Jacks drew away from the captives, and the captain stopped fondling the Montani jewels.

Uhura knew the Jacks were thieving, spiteful, and highly superstitious.  Killing someone magical was strictly taboo with Jacks.  Their fear might delay them long enough for her to implement an idea she had that save their lives.

"If you return us to Vulcan, the wizard will reward you with his jewels which you hold in your lap."

The captain jumped up as if the box were on fire, and precious stones scattered across the floor.

He looked down at the treasure and then eyed Will skeptically.  "What can you do, Wizard?"

Uhura stepped in front of the little man.  "If you return us to our room, my crewman and I will help the wizard don a new body."

The captain sat back down.  Never had he heard of a magician who changed his bodies like other men changed their clothing.  This was powerful magic indeed.  If they did not change his body, they would be killed.  He nodded and the guards led them away, careful not to touch them this time.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" shouted Pampa, back in their cell.  “Changing bodies, why didn't you say he could change lead to gold or something really easy?"

"Nice try," Uhura said softly, looking from one to the other.

"Something about the two of you bothered me from the first time I saw you.  You've had everyone fooled for years.  You might have even fooled me if I hadn't heard of Thomas II.  Mr. Spock, our science officer, mentioned it to me once when he was studying twin births.  You see, Vulcans do not have multiple births, and he was interested in the information he'd discovered on a very unusual planet.  He had recalled my father's name was Thomas and had asked me if he was a twin.  You see, I know the Latin word for twin is Thomas.  I know Thomas II is a planet where all births are multiple births--twins."  She paused to examine their downcast faces.

"Suppose that out of all those twin births, a mutation occurred, a kind of empathy.  Not empathic, sympathic.  Both give and both take.  Only something happened, and one gave and gave and gave and the other received.  What happened?" she addressed Will.

"Did Pampa get noticed for her face so you gave her all the beauty you had to ensure she was a success?"
She saw the look that passed between them.  "But you didn't help her, Will.  While you were giving her all your outside beauty, you were taking all her inside beauty.  She became cold and you became so caring that your empathic abilities even started picking up other people's miseries."

Uhura took a deep breath.  "You never get something for nothing, Pampa.  You got beauty, but lost your compassion.  Now you have to set things right, and not just to fool that Jack captain, either.  If you're going to die, the least you can do is die as yourselves."

"I don't know if we can reverse it," Will said.  "It could take years.”

"Death is an excellent motivator, Mister.  Come on!"

Will looked at Pampa with the question in his eyes.  She nodded and threw off the black wig as she sat down on the floor.

Uhura made room as they sat facing each other with their hands interlocked.  She felt the tension in the air and saw the concentration on their faces.  Years of taking parts of each other, storing them, and taking more had conditioned them against what they had to do, but they would die trying.

The first thing she noticed was their breathing--it was exactly the same rhythm.  Pampa moaned and Uhura imagined some of the shine in her hair and color in her skin faded.  The process had begun.

While Pampa's transformation was barely evident, Will's was dramatic.  Baggy clothes filled out, hair sprouted and grew, and skin shrank over newly formed muscles.  Uhura couldn't believe it.  His flesh looked like modeling clay being kneaded from the inside.

It was a painful process for both of them, but in a few minutes it was finished.  Pampa, a new, softer, sweeter Pampa, cried on her brother's shoulder.  He was taller, straighter and younger than he had been.  Uhura wasn't surprised to see his hair was exactly the same shade as his sisters.

Uhura banged on the door and smiled at the exhausted twins.  "Now let's go show the captain some real magic."

Several days later, Uhura set her bags inside the airlock and looked around.  “Anyone home?"

"Lass!" came Scotty's call up the corridor.  He gave Uhura a big hug as he met her.  "I thought you weren't due back for another week."

"They decided not to finish the movie," she explained as they made their way to the bridge.  "The star had a...change of heart."

"Does that mean we're not going to see you up on that big screen,” asked Chekov, overhearing the end of the conversation as they entered the bridge.

"Afraid so." She smiled at Sulu and Chekov.  "Besides, making movies isn't exciting enough for me.  Give me free space anytime.”

"Amen," said Mr. Scott.

Uhura flashed them one last smile and and turned to leave the bridge.

"Now where are you going?" asked Sulu.

I’m going to thank Mr. Spock for remembering my father's name was Thomas."

The three men exchanged puzzled looks as she left.  "Too much sun," decided Scotty.  "It'll do it to ya every time."

THE END                            October 1987                    Beyond Antares