Star Trek: The Original Series - 162 - Shadow of the Machine Read Free Page A

their duties last night and handed over to Yard Control, leaving them free to catch the shuttle this afternoon.”
    “That is not fair,” Chekov said.
    “I think someone’s a little jealous,” Uhura said, a smile on her lips.
    Chekov bristled. “Pah! Not at all. Everybody knows that working in communications is child’s play. A Drac’nen tree monkey could operate that equipment with three of its six arms tied behind its back. Now, weapons, on the other hand—that is a skilled post.”
    Uhura took the bait. All jocular pretenses were cast aside as she stormed into the room to confront her Russian colleague.
    It was at that point that Sulu, in a moment of crystal clarity, suddenly realized how their forthcoming trip together was about to play out: Chekov and Uhura constantly baiting each other until, inevitably, one would flare up and all-out war would be declared, leaving him to play the role of peacekeeper.
    He blamed Susan. It had been her idea that he go on the trip with them. At the time it had seemed like a good idea and he’d readily agreed. Now he wasn’t so sure.
    “You should take Hikaru with you,” Susan had said, the last time the four of them had been together for dinner. “He’ll only be getting under my feet by the second week of shore leave.”
    Sulu had almost choked on his sushi. He’d glanced across the table to find Susan smiling at him.
    “It’ll be much better for you than hanging around the house,” she had told him. “You’ll have plenty of time to do that once the bump here puts in an appearance.”
    Uhura and Chekov continued to bicker like little kids in a school yard, causing Sulu to throw his hands up in desperation. He really wasn’t in the mood for this, not today. The dull, throbbing pain in his head was showing the first signs of becoming a migraine, and the breakfast he’d just shared with Chekov was sitting heavily in his stomach.
    For a brief second he felt like walking out and leaving them to it.
    “Will you two knock it off!” Sulu shouted. “If you think for one minute that I’m going to play nursemaid to the pair of you for seven days, then you’re sadly mistaken. I’m starting to regret ever agreeing to come on this trip. You know, I just wish that I had an excuse not to—”
    The communication console on the far wall trilled softly, interrupting him.
    “San Francisco Yard to Lieutenant Commander Sulu.”
    Instinctively Sulu straightened in his chair, snapping to attention regardless of the fact that he couldn’t be seen by the caller.
    “Sulu here.”
    “Sir, there’s an urgent transmission for you from a Doctor Hautala at Starfleet Medical, San Francisco.”
    A ripple of panic ran through Sulu’s body like an electrical charge, leaving a strange coppery taste at the back of his throat. His first thought was that something had happened to Susan: an accident, while she was out.
    His second thought was: The baby!
    At first Sulu was unable to speak, his mouth silently opening and closing like a landed fish. Finally he looked to Uhura for help.
    “Put the doctor through, please,” Uhura said, stepping in quickly. Then, to the ship’s computer, she said, “Viewer on.”
    The screen on the wall to their right sprang immediately to life. A gaunt, dark-haired woman in her mid- to late thirties was staring out at them, the hustle and bustle of hospital life going about its business behind her.
    “Commander Sulu?” the doctor asked when it became apparent that none of the three officers were about to introduce themselves.
    “I’m Commander Sulu,” he said, slowly climbing to his feet. His legs felt numb beneath him, so he reached out toward the desk for support.
    “Doctor Linzi Hautala, Starfleet Medical, San Francisco.”
    Sulu swallowed. “Is this about—Susan? I need to know, is she . . .” Here he paused, not knowing how to end the sentence. He couldn’t bring himself to say “Is she dead?” or “Is she seriously hurt?” He finally asked,