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ASTRID FERSZT

I was at my friend Kaz's house, cooking dinner. The usual formula is one or the other of us providing the meal, followed by one or more Star Trek videos. We then pick the episodes to pieces for a while.
She said "I've lost my salt and pepper mills. They're gone. We've looked everywhere!"
My last visit there had been about two weeks previously. The now missing objects had been in their proper places by the spice rack. I shrugged and said
"You've looked in all the obvious places, I suppose...the freezer, under the bed.....?"
She nodded, moving to set the table. "Even Gerry was here, turning all the cupboards out. They just aren't in the house!"
"It's obvious. Your cleaning lady is a salt vampire and made off with it" I replied, stirring the pasta sauce.
"That doesn't explain the pepper mill, which I really miss!!!"
"Purely to keep her identity secret."
"But she didn't take the rest of my French sea salt especially prepared on the shores of the Mediterranean!" Kaz smiled. "What am I saying?? You've got me believing in salt vampires! That stuff only happens on Star Trek!!"
We dismissed the subject and concentrated on the food. After two episodes of classic Trek (Kaz hasn't got around to TNG or DS9 yet), we had our usual nitpicking session over the science. After that we moved on to the more philosophical aspects of life in this universe. After that...I went home.
A couple of weeks later, Kaz was at my house after orchestra practise. She eyed my salt and pepper grinders with envy. "Aha!! Those are obviously the ones I lost. They've been transmuted symmetrically!" she cried.
"What ever are you on about?", I said, thinking those last 3 pages of reiterated semiquavers had been too much for her. If she'd been Mr. Spock, she would have raised her eyebrow. As it was she merely put down her mug of tea and put on her best Vulcan face.
"It's only logical. Your salt mill is transparent plastic. My pepper mill was transparent plastic. Your pepper mill is light coloured wood. My salt shaker was light coloured wood. This is clearly a parallel space-time inversion of symmetry." At least she didn't add "Captain".
"But then logically, either you should have the other inverted set in your kitchen, or else I should have two sets here" I said.
"Wellllll,you see.....the life force of my set has taken over your set. Happens on Trek all the time doesn't it?" She flourished her tea in triumph.
"I suppose it does. Maybe I should be locking my kitchen door every night. Of course anybody (or anything) capable of that isn't going to be stopped easily regardless. Does that mean when your set (if it ever shows up) and my set come in contact, they will annihilate each other and most of London in the process?" I wondered, starting in on another biscuit.
"It would certainly cut the traffic congestion down somewhat" she said.

We had our usual laughs and Kaz went home. One evening I got a strange (or stranger than usual) call from Kaz.
"You aren't going to believe this...but the pepper mill is back. Now the box of sea salt I just brought back from France is missing!"
Admittedly I just laughed. "I think Gerry is playing a trick on you."
"Does that sound like the sort of thing he would do?" she bristled.
I thought about it for a bit. "No, I suppose not. This is really getting a bit strange."
"Tell me about it" she said. "Could you bring some sea salt from Safeway when you come?"
I hung up. Surely there was some eminently reasonable, logical explanation for this. The concierge and the cleaning woman have keys to her flat. What would be the point of stealing salt and salt shakers, though? And why wait so long? Kaz has been living there for years. All very strange. The next time we met for dinner and a spot of saving the universe (yet again) I made Kaz a present of the sea salt (Mediterranean) and a salt mill (Korean likely).

We made jokes about things disappearing in interdimensional interfaces between parallel (are they never perpendicular?) universes. We were also hoping to solve some of the impenetrable mysteries of nature, such as why are cats never on the right side of the door? Of course cats don't actually inhabit the same space-time continuum as the rest of us. But you knew that. Even on Star Trek, cats were never ordinary cats. On the other hand, neither are any other cats. I digress. As usual we didn't come up with any earth (to be really politically correct I suppose I shouldn't be so geocentric and say planet) shaking solutions. We watched the episode about the salt vampire, who could look like anybody one could imagine. I said something about the cleaning lady being too tall and having blonde hair. Kaz said she had dark hair, and was short. We looked at each other. Then we laughed. Of course there are two cleaners. One wonders though...

I was cooking at home the next evening and discovered my salt mill was empty.
"That 's strange. I filled it two days ago. I couldn't have used it all up so quickly, could I? " I thought. When I opened the cupboard to get more salt (generic, I confess), the box wasn't in its usual place. In my house that's nothing new. I've often thought that my flat was specifically designed to maximise entropy. However, a thorough search turned up nothing in the way of sodium chloride. Even the little packets I had from back when I used to eat at KFC^TM were gone. I was well and truly saltless. I don't even have a cleaning lady. I shrugged and made an addition to the shopping list. For the next couple of days, my acquaintances must have thought I was being unusually peculiar. I kept trying to introduce the topic of salt into conversations. Casually, of course.
"Did you see that article in 'Nature' this week? About the transgenic cows? I wonder what kind of salt they used in their buffers? Have you noticed any salt missing from the Lab?"
That sort of thing. I checked our salt supplies, but they seemed in order. Eventually other trivia occupied my attention. Such as finishing my PhD., and getting a job.

One Sunday afternoon, Kaz phoned and sounded a bit agitated.
"I know it's Sunday, but could you come around? There's someone here I think you should meet. Soon. See you." She hung up before I could say anything. During the ride to her place, I wondered who I needed to meet so desperately. I knew she communicated with a lot of people via the News network. We didn't have it at my college and I was deeply envious. There are various Trek groups in it and she frequently showed me printouts of stories and other things that she received. However I hadn't managed to bribe our system manager sufficiently (anyway he wouldn't have time for a cruise around the world) to get the News option installed. Kaz had already had visitors she'd met through the network. In the end I decided these were local Trekkies she wanted me to meet. But why had she sounded strained on the phone? Sad to say, there are warped (to coin a phrase) Trek fans around. They show up at conventions, discussion groups and even that pub in Victoria. No sense of reality at all. Imagine believing Vulcans only have sex once every seven years! The population would be unsustainable. Everybody knows it's merely compulsory every seven years. The rest of the time it's strictly by choice.
Anyway were was I? When I got to her place, Kaz answered the door with the strangest expression on her face. She ushered me in without saying a word. There, seated on the futon, were two little green men. Not exactly. They were little-about 1.3 metres, and they may or may not have been men. They weren't green, I mean. Their visible skin was a lovely burgundy colour. Well..maybe beaujolais, but not too nouveau. You know what I mean.

I could see the problem. Kaz had run out of prime Assam tea and was having to serve store brand. We exchanged significant glances. Of course she said the only thing possible under the circumstances: "Milk or lemon?"
The two on the futon also exchanged significant glances (I think, hard to tell actually).
"Both" they replied, in unison.
"Both?" I queried.
"Both. Bovine lactation products are best consumed after acid coagulation. For peak flavour, you understand."
"Of course." I shrugged. De gustibus and all that.
Kaz wheeled the tea trolley (how many of your friends have a real tea trolley?) into the living room. Everything was attractively arranged as usual. She gave her visitors their tea, handed me mine (lemon, no sugar), and took hers (lemon, two sugars) to the table. One could sense that this was an important moment. One of the visitors immediately poked a "finger" (an appendage of some sort) into the sugar bowl. S/he/it got excited (I think) and conversed rapidly with the other.
Of course, since neither Kaz nor I have got around to having universal translators implanted, we waited politely with incomprehension, until they finished. It did strike me as vaguely rude to stick one's fingers (or assorted appendages) into the sugar. London, however, is a very cosmopolitan place, so one learns to make allowances. We just shrugged, significantly. Having finished the "examination" of the sugar, the pair turned their attention to the cake (Battenburg) and biscuits (Bahlsen "Japonaise"^TM).
None of it ever seemed to enter into what I assumed to be their mouths (an orifice centrally placed on what I assumed to be their faces). But then, neither had any of the tea, and the cups were empty. I refilled their cups and our own.
The two guests seemed to have finished their "analysis" (what else could I call it-I don't know that they actually ate anything).
This being a momentous occasion in (possibly) interstellar affairs, Kaz and I were unsure of how to proceed. Kaz solved the problem admirably. She leaned back, cup in hand, and said (very, very casually-I was envious): "So...what brings you to the neighbourhood?"
Magnificent! (It never really occurred to us that they might not share our language. On the other hand, everyone on Star Trek always did, and does.) The "person" nearest the window, pointed (I think) to the British Museum across the street. "We are ...mm...ah...xenoanthropologists. We study and collect alien...artefacts. Such as this..." and produced, from who knows where, the Portland Vase.
Kaz and I just looked at her/him/it, and at each other. I ventured to mention that the British Museum was not, in fact, a takeaway.
The other "person" looked slightly puzzled (I think). "But it's broken. We left them a new one."
"Oh. Well...that's alright then. The headlines will be interesting, and how long will it take before anyone notices? " I thought.
I could see that Kaz was thinking the same thing. Great minds think alike.
"He" (and I will continue to use the pronoun in its purely generic sense) put the Vase away (somewhere). They both started in again on the cake. Kaz looked completely calm. All that "Spock" practise came in very handy, I must say. Her emotions were only betrayed by the fact that I'd just seen her adding the fifth spoon of sugar (caster of course) to her tea. We all sat in silence for a minute or two. This was a really tricky business. I mean-one wrong word or gesture might trigger all sorts of unpleasantness.
Kaz and I looked at each other (significantly). We were certainly both thinking along the same lines: "How would Captain Kirk, or Mr. Spock, or even Jean-Luc Picard handle this?" I wondered if we shouldn't have been drinking Earl Gray, hot.
Meanwhile the visitors had finished their tea, the cake, the biscuits, and a couple of plates. Kaz merely raised an eyebrow. They were only her everyday black French plates, after all. She subtly moved the trolley out of their reach. One of the aliens (for I assumed that truly was what they were...no one really goes around London dressed and made up as aliens do they?) "pointed" to the three dimensional chess set on the coffee table. They looked at it very intently (I think) and started talking among themselves again.
Kaz was counting the spoons. I suddenly realised we'd omitted a very important diplomatic ritual...the introductions. It didn't seem exactly right to try to refer to what may have been this planet's first ET visitors as "Oi, mate" or the equivalent.
"Excuse me for interrupting" I interrupted, "but do either or both of you have a name or names?"
They looked at each other and chattered on for a bit. Of course we couldn't catch anything except "name" occasionally. "By name, perhaps is meant individual/family/group designation?" the one nearest the rubber plant enquired.
I nodded, then realised he wouldn't necessarily know what I meant. "Affirmative" slipped out. Now where had that come from?
"Affirmative" he replied. We waited expectantly.
Kaz got impatient (too much sugar, I expect)."We would like to know your names" she said very evenly.
The one nearest the chess set said "One might have said so. I am called ..." and there followed some sounds I couldn't even begin to transliterate, "and that one is ..." more of the same.
I think the nearest I could have come would have been to write it out as a series of musical notes. Unfortunately I couldn't even work out what sort of tonality they were using, if any. Perhaps they were fans of Stockhausen.
Kaz just shrugged. "Can that be translated into our language?"
We weren't expecting much. Perhaps they were named according to some utterly alien concept we couldn't possibly understand. They conferred again.
"Positively. I am Trevor and that one is Dave." I was right.
Kaz choked slightly on her tea. She raised an eyebrow. "Trevor. Dave." She put the cup down, and looked out the window for a moment. With Vulcan composure she asked "Is this your first visit to Earth?"
Trevor and Dave seemed slightly agitated. "For what reason do you think we are not of Earth?" Dave enquired.
"You did say that you were xenoanthropologists, and collected alien artefacts" she explained patiently (the sugar obviously having worn off). What was she supposed to say? That there aren't actually a whole lot of people on this planet who are purple (pardon me, burgundy), and eat dishes (and spoons, as it turned out) without putting them into any facial orifice?
Trevor seemed to relax slightly. Dave's attention had been attracted by the rubber plant. "You are correct. You may find this difficult to believe, but we are indeed from another planet. We have visited Sol III previously. On a parcel tour." Trevor said.
Parcel tour? "Surely you mean package tour" I pointed out.
Trevor bristled. "I believe that is what I said."
Why did that line sound so familiar? Before I could frame a suitable reply, I was interrupted by a strangled cry. Kaz had jumped out of her seat.
"You leave that alone!"
Dave sat back down on the futon. I mentioned that he seemed to find the rubber plant interesting. In fact several of the lower leaves were missing, cleanly severed from the main stem with no marks or scars. Of course Kaz was upset. Her ficus, monstera, and scheflflera plants are huge, and are a source of great pride.
Plates are one thing, but going after the plants was bit much. She glared at Dave. I don't know if he understood the significance of the facial expression, but no more leaves disappeared.
I tried to defuse the situation. "Trevor, you were saying something about package tours to Earth."
"Yes. This solar system is quite a popular tourist attraction. Connections are very good, and the exchange rate is excellent!" He was looking at Kaz's samurai swords. She caught the look and uttered a warning growl.
"I suppose the presence of a class M planet helps" she said, somewhat snidely.

We really were having difficulty taking all this in. Avid Trek and other science fiction fans though we were, the idea that these people were truly from another planet still seemed unreal. It was the sort of thing we'd always hoped would happen. Now that it supposedly had...we were having to play it by ear. Suddenly Trevor and Dave gave us their undivided attention.
"For what reason do you speak of planets of class M?" Dave asked, somewhat cautiously (I think).
Kaz looked at me before replying "It's a phrase sometimes used to describe Earth-like planets." She didn't feel the need to try to explain about television fiction.
"Yes,that is correct. We do not understand.." Trevor began, but Dave interrupted in their own language. Trevor seemed to agree and continued, "Ah..it is unimportant."

I gathered up the tea things and wheeled the trolley into the kitchen. I suppose I should mention that the kitchen and living room at Kaz's are separated only by a counter. So I didn't miss any of the conversation while I did the washing up.
Trevor (or it might have been Dave, since I couldn't differentiate their voices) then asked Kaz if this was a typical Earth dwelling. She said it was smaller than many, but that there were vast differences from locality to locality. She also mentioned that they hadn't said much about themselves and their home planet.
One of them said (my back was still turned) "Neither the name nor location would mean anything to you. It isn't very far away, as the large black ornithoid flies."
What?
"You mean as the crow flies." Kaz supplied helpfully.
"That is what I said."
"Our time here is limited. We still have much to appro...investigate before our return." Dave said.
I had finished the dishes and sat down in the living room again. "What's the hurry?" I asked. Having come all this way, it seemed silly not to stay and make the trip worthwhile.
"We are on an end-of-one-quarter-of-a-lunar-cycle ticket" Dave replied. Trevor was wandering around the living room. Kaz and I exchanged blank stares. Then the light dawned.
"You mean a weekend ticket. Why didn't you say so in the first place?" Kaz said.
"I believe I just did." Dave and I replied in chorus. I was getting the hang of it.

Trevor was still circulating around the room. I noticed one of the pieces from the three dimensional chess set was missing. Dave got up as well, and one of Kaz's scatter cushions was no longer behind him. Kaz looked around the living room very carefully. There seemed to be a pattern here, but it eluded us for the moment. The pair were in the kitchen suddenly. Neither of us had seen them actually ambulate, they just were there. They seemed to get very excited about the spice rack. As we watched, the herbes de Provence and the mixed spice just disappeared. Now we really looked at each other significantly. I left it to Kaz to say something. It was her house, after all.
"Just what, exactly, do you think you're doing?" with just the right touch of Captain Kirk-ishness. Brilliant!
Trevor stopped what he was doing (whatever was he doing?). "We were just examining the typical native...handicrafts. Is that not the correct thing for innocent tourists to do?"
I had to admit that he had a point there. Kaz was still taking inventory of the living room. At least the futon, the two tables, and the viola were still there. The new music stand that Gerry had given her was truncated somewhat. One of the floor length curtains was missing, but Kaz had never liked the pattern anyway. I think she was contemplating getting the "dynamic duo" to do something about the carpet, which is amazingly ugly. The landlord had replaced both curtains and carpet without either consulting Kaz or actually opening her eyes. Either item was bad enough on its own, but the combination had much the same effect as Ambassador Kollos That was it!! This whole thing was merely a major hallucination brought on by extremely hideous soft furnishings. The problem with that was that my hallucinations (on those extremely rare occasions when I have them. Really!) are not usually so interactive. I got the impression that Kaz was thinking along the same lines, and possibly having the same hallucination. With one of those incisive flashes of insight that occasionally illuminate great minds (i.e. ours), we reached the incredible but logical conclusion that all this was genuinely happening to us.

During our ruminations, Trevor and Dave had continued their "exploration" and seeming appropriation of alien artefacts, including a one kilo bag of sugar, all the extra-hot chile (from New Mexico, of course) I'd given Kaz, one bottle of Sancerre, a jar of horseradish, and all of the special sweet mustard she brings back from Prague. I was certain there would be trouble over the last item. Kaz had no more annual leave left.
She came over. I could see she was upset. "They took my favourite bonsai. And the Yuri Bashmet CDs. The Lionel Tertis book. My spider-plant."
The Two were still in the kitchen. Kaz looked at them with anything but thoughts of interstellar amity in her heart. She shifted into Captain mode again.
"I demand that you stop this instantly!"
Dave just shrugged (I think). "As you wish." However he didn't relinquish the box of French sea salt he was holding. Trevor kept examining things. Kaz wondered out loud if Trevor would perhaps care to try some bleach, or insecticide.
"Too late" I said. The bleach had already disappeared. I envisioned what would happen to intergalactic diplomacy if he started in on the Perrier.
Suddenly Trevor stopped. He just stood very still in the centre of the kitchen. He had the strangest expression on his face. (I know what you're thinking...of course he had a strange expression on his face. The man is from another planet! However this seemed to go beyond the usual bounds of strangeness.) Then he turned towards the sink. "There is an urgent need for rapid waste disposal!"
Kaz caught on instantly. "Not in my kitchen sink! Into the bathroom!" She leaped up, grabbed Trev by the "shoulders" and steered him through the bedroom into the en-suite bathroom. She shoved him in, and rejoined Dave and me in the living room.
Dave had spent the last few minutes on the futon, with the box of salt cradled on his "lap".
I was sure that there had been a small watercolour, and a hanging basket of philodendron on the wall over the futon. Maybe not. There certainly was nothing on that stretch of wall now. We sat there looking at Dave, hoping against hope that the rampage was over. Still silent, he just sat there swaying from side to side very gently.

Kaz had a sheet of paper on the table and was listing the purloined possessions, between not-so-furtive glances at half of the perpetrators. She kept repeating softly "What am I going to tell the insurance company?"
What indeed? I was still fascinated (to coin a word) by Dave's continuing 'out-of-it'ness. There was something vaguely familiar about his behaviour. "Ohhh no." I thought. "Kaz...he's drunk or stoned or both."
She merely looked up. "Indeed?" Very casual. She continued the inventory.
"Listen! We've got one alien who's zonked, and another who may have food poisoning, on our hands, and all you can say is 'Indeed'?" This was carrying Spockishness to an extreme.
She looked up again. "So what do you want me to do about it? Assuming there's anything that can be done?", and continued the list, which was ominously long.
"I suppose I could make a nice strong pot of Dutch coffee." I said.
"Make it so."
So I did. There wasn't any milk. The unopened carton was empty. There was a little Demerara sugar left. While the coffee was brewing, I went to check up on Trevor. There had been some very odd noises emanating from the vicinity of the bathroom. Now however, there was an uncomfortable silence.
"What now?? "I thought. I knocked, and receiving no reply (after all, why should he have known that I was seeking entry?), went in. Trev was sitting in the bathtub, "examining" Kaz's various articles de toilette.
I suppose I should mention that many of her toiletries come from a French mail-order house, and so are a bit pricier than the run of the mill brands. I knew she wouldn't be pleased. On the other hand she seemed to have taken a very Vulcan attitude to the whole situation. "What is, is." Too right.
"Look. My friend probably doesn't really mind about the towels." They're only Marks and Spencer anyway.
"She is definitely going to be upset about the Opium." meaning the perfume, obviously. What were you thinking?
At that point, Trevor got out of the bath. Other than the missing items, the bathroom was clean and tidy. I didn't care to find out just how he'd dealt with the "waste disposal" issue. "Let's go. I think Dave needs your assistance, and there's fresh coffee."
Trevor seemed to perk up (O.K., so I'm guessing! Can we just get on with the story?) at the mention of coffee. "Would that be Blue Mountain or Ethiopian Highland?" he asked, following me.
"How should I know?" I retorted. "I just drink the stuff."
He stopped in his tracks. "You drink it??"
"Yes, of course. What else do..." I stopped there. I just didn't want to know. I took a step or two more before realising that Trev wasn't following.
He was staring at the model of the U.S.S. Enterprise (NCC 1701) that Kaz had on her desk. I panicked. Next to it was the laptop she got from work. I wasn't sure which one was more valuable to her. What am I saying? That should be obvious.
To my amazement, Trevor actually backed away from the desk. "Maybe all of Kaz's threats hadn't fallen on deaf ears (or other aural receptors)," I thought. On the other hand, maybe he just needed to get a better view before deciding where to begin a fresh onslaught.

Through the open bedroom door, I could see both Dave (still off in the ozone) and Kaz (still compiling the inventory). I was wondering if I should alert her to the possible demise of one of her most treasured possessions. However, Trevor merely looked around the room. His gaze fell variously on Kaz's other model of the Enterprise, the graphics of same (taken from the Internet), the framed picture of Spock, the IDIC pin I'd given her for Christmas, not to mention the Enterprise blue prints and technical manual I'd loaned her. Are you detecting a pattern here? He looked at me again.
"By what means have these objects been accumulated at this location?" he said, in quite a different tone of voice than he'd used previously. I was wondering if he truly had gone pale, or if it was a trick of the lighting.
"We either bought them or someone else bought them and gave them to us."
Poor Trev seemed agitated.
"Those pictures were obtained through a computer network." I finished, curious as to where this was all heading.
He quickly returned to the living room and sat down next to Dave. Trevor noticed the salt box on his companion's lap, seized it and threw it across the room. That definitely got Kaz's attention. She looked up with that expression most people get when they have been interrupted in the middle of something important. "How interesting. Do go on." with a suitably raised eyebrow.
Trevor was attempting to rouse Dave from his drugged stupor. I got a cup of black coffee (neither milk nor lemon ), and profferred it.
Trev just waved it away irritably (I think). "It will only serve to increase the level of intoxication. Are you in possession of any aqueous ethanol containing extracts of hordein?" he asked, still shouting at and shaking Dave.
"What???" Kaz and I replied in unison. I then remembered that hordein is a protein present in barley (being a scientist seems to have its uses after all). "He must mean either beer or..."
We both caught on too late. Kaz doesn't normally keep beer in the house. What she did have (the operative word being did ) was- "Not my twenty-five year old single malt private reserve Scotch!!!" She had lost all her Vulcan reserve. I couldn't blame her.
Now I really began to have fears for the safety of our visitors. It was becoming increasingly likely that they were not long for this world, the next,or any other for that matter. The effect of the whisky on Dave was unbelievable to say the least. Literally from one instant to the next he sobered up. He looked around him, with that unmistakeable "where am I, why, and how did I get here". Trevor was still shouting at him. I couldn't be certain if Dave had a hangover, but I told his friend to stop making all that noise, and leave the poor fellow alone. I was wondering at what could have caused his "intoxication", considering that the two of them had snacked on nearly everything in Kaz's kitchen and living room.
Kaz remained in that state bordering on plak tow.
Trevor had by now ceased rattling Dave's brains (wherever they were) about. "That one has been told repeatedly not to consume recreational pharmaceuticals while working."
Recreational pharmaceuticals? "Do you mean drugs, by any chance?" I ventured.
"Affirmative. That one is irresponsible." Trev replied.
Dave just sat there looking sheepish (ovine-ish, then. Satisfied?).

Now this quiet Sunday afternoon was beginning to take on an air of unreality. Visitors from another planet, O.K. Eating everything in sight, fine. I have a brother who used to be like that, though I must admit he left the crockery alone. Someone who finds the sight of a plastic model of a mythical starship upsetting, so what? My mum is no fan of Trek either, unbelievable though that may be. But this...wholesale drug abuse? That sort of thing happens to others, not sane respectable people like Kaz and me. How positively sordid!.
"Might one enquire the source of the umm...intoxication?" I asked, out of idle curiousity.
"One might" Trevor replied, laconically.
Yes, alright.
"What exactly was the source of Dave's intoxication?" Kaz had gone off the boil, and was merely simmering.
Trevor tossed what I interpreted as a contemptuous glare across the room. I followed his look, but didn't see anything drug-like. There were gaps in Kaz's tape and CD collection, where both Trevor and Dave helped themselves. I really couldn't think of anything which Dave had consumed that Trevor hadn't. If anything I would have thought Trev would be the drugged one, considering the amount of herbal bath salts and shampoo he'd ingested. So what was it? My eyes lit on the box of salt.
"Ohmyg..." I started.
I rose and picked the box up from where Trevor had hurled it. "Is this what intoxicated Dave?" I asked, being apprehensive of the answer.
"Affirmative." came the tense reply.
At least he was neither shaking nor shouting at his companion.
"It is very potent in that form. That one was to restrain intake until we had completed our business and departed. We cannot delay here." He really seemed agitated.
By this point, Kaz had cooled down sufficiently to be coherent. "I think you owe us an explanation." she said all too evenly. "And I want my stuff back."
Dave had also recovered. "That will not be possible."
"The explanation or my possessions?" she said between gritted teeth.
The Two looked at each other (significantly?). They spoke quickly, but quietly, as if they were afraid we might overhear. Trev kept glancing out the window. Was he expecting company? Finally he said "You are correct, and are owed an explanation for our seemingly irregular behaviour."
Kaz gave him an it's about time sort of look
"Before we do, we would like to enquire further about some of the artefacts in the sleeping room. It is important that we know their origin and meaning."
One would have thought that their consumption was meaning enough for anyone. I left it to Kaz to make the decision. She was the one who had to deal with the landlord and the insurance company. She steepled her fingers in that oh-so-familiar gesture and was silent for a few moments. Dave had taken something from about his person, and they both were looking at it very intently. Whatever they saw seemed satisfactory, and the object was put away again. Of course I was dying to know what it was, but bided my time.
Kaz seemed to have made her decision. She rose, and said "Alright. Come into the bedroom." I followed the three of them into the inner sanctum. She sat on the bed, they sat in the chairs, and I sat on the floor. I must admit that they seemed somewhat chastened. They hadn't liberated anything for several minutes.
"So what do you want to know?" Kaz asked.
Of course she hadn't seen Trevor's reaction to her desk top contents. I hadn't had the opportunity to say anything. Hopefully this was going to be interesting. I was dying for a cup of coffee.
Dave looked at Trevor. Trevor looked at Dave.
"Get on with it " I thought. "Coffee does not improve with time ". I suppose they were deciding what to say. Maybe they have their own version of the Prime Directive, althought I suspect they'd already violated it beyond all redemption.
Trevor spoke first. "Precisely what is the function of that object?" pointing to the model of the Enterprise that was situated on the television set. Or did he mean the set itself?
"Did you mean the model or the television?" Kaz asked.
There was a short interval of conversation between the Duo. "By television is meant two dimensional re-creation of digitally encoded audiovisual signals, representing human culture?" Dave enquired.
"Something like that." I replied. "I'm not sure about the digital part." Culture is definitely debateable.
"We intend the model." Trevor said. Intend? He meant 'mean' I supposed. Still the command of the language was pretty good. Especially considering that neither of them ever actually "spoke" to us, within the usual definition of the word.
"That is a hand built and painted model of a starship, the U.S.S. Enterprise." Kaz replied, somewhat puzzled.
"It is obvious that the object represents that unfavourably well known starship." Trev replied, with some asperity (I think). "Why is it in your possession?"
Now this was getting interesting. Kaz spoke for both of us when she said "How did you know it was the Enterprise, and why is it notorious?"
Neither of the Two spoke for a moment. The answer was simple and straightforward: "Everyone knows about the Enterprise. Everyone except people on this planet. Or so we thought. You are not supposed to be aware of its existence."
This time I spoke for the both of us. "Why not?" We could see that they were struggling with something.
Reluctantly Dave continued "For you, and this planet, it shouldn't exist. Yet."
Neither of us knew what to say. Were they implying that there was really an Enterprise? "Are you implying that there really is an Enterprise?" Kaz asked, very carefully. We weren't at all sure that we wanted to hear the answer. "That is what was said." Dave replied. "With a real Captain James T. Kirk? And a half-Vulcan Science Officer named Spock? Dr. Leonard McCoy, Chief Medical Officer? And...all the rest?" I asked.
One of the favourite topics of conversation Kaz and I share is how desperately we would like to be on the Enterprise. That there was some possibility of its actual existence was vaguely disconcerting.
Now Trevor and Dave really looked uncomfortable. "How do you know of all this?" Trevor very nearly shouted. "It is not possible! Your people will not have interstellar flight for..." and here Dave poked him, to shut him up.
This was definitely interesting. Neither side quite believed what the other was saying. Certainly there were some puzzles here. If there was a real-life Enterprise, how did it become the focus of a television programme, not to mention all the spin-offs?
I could see Kaz was starting to enjoy all this. "There was a television programme made in the sixties," she began, then realised they might not know our calendar. "Made thirty of our years ago. It was called 'Star Trek^tm', and was all about the Enterprise's first five year mission."
"Since then there have been seven films, with more on the way, as well as three more spin-off series." I continued. I wasn't sure if I should go into merchandise licensing agreements.
That really did it as far as our visitors were concerned. Now they were talking to each other faster and more loudly than previously.
Kaz and I just looked at each other. I reached a major decision. I got up to get myself some coffee. Kaz said she didn't want any. I didn't offer any to the Duo. Not until I knew just exactly what effect it would have on them. And how they took it (if you know what I mean).

When I returned, the aliens were silent. One could see that they were considering their next move.
Kaz took the initiative again. "We've explained our side of the story. You still need to explain yours."
Admittedly, the "week-end tripper" thing had seemed just a little outlandish.
"You are correct. It is time to explain." Trevor began. "We are not genuine xenoanthropologists. We do in fact collect alien objects, but for financial advantage."
"Why didn't you say so in the first place?", Kaz began. There was more hesitation on their part.
"In all verity, we are not in possession of a valid business permit." Dave said.
"So you're trading without a council license?" Kaz replied. In London, that's hardly unusual. Perhaps where they came from it was a serious offence. "Why don't you just get one?" I could imagine the stir they would cause at any council "one-stop-shop". On the other hand, considering the usual lack of alertness I've observed in local government employees, no one would notice.
"We sell other things beside quaint native artwork." Trevor replied, as though that explained everything.
Since it didn't, I said "Such as?"
Dave looked down for a moment. "Would you believe...uplifting religious literature?"
"Not really" Kaz and I said in unison.
Trevor gave what seemed to be a sigh. Of course, without knowing more about their physiology and body language, it could just as easily have been a laugh, or dire threat.
"We have had occasion to deal in contraband items. And substances. Purely as a sideline, you understand." he replied somewhat reluctantly.
Kaz and I looked at each other, and then at the Duo. We were a little slow on the uptake. Finally she said "You're smugglers? And DRUG DEALERS?". One could hear the capital letters. Quite right too.
Being the chemist in the family, so to speak, I asked "What sorts of substances?"
Kaz threw me a disbelieving look. I just shrugged. It's not as though scientists in this country get paid handsomely. Desperation to own a laptop has resulted in more severe crimes than selling possibly illegal substances to aliens. I suppose. Maybe. How should I know??
Dave pointed to my now tepid cup of coffee. "The seeds of Coffea arabica, for example. They are a stimulant for sexual activity among the inhabitants of Sondrika II. The plant does not grow in their cyanide-containing atmosphere."
One could hardly blame it.
"What does it sell for?" I asked. Kaz sputtered a little. Sad, really. More McCoy than Spock. I ignored the outburst.
With all the alacrity that marks the true being of business, they both replied "Three thousand pronobs per derr."
Remarkable. "What exactly does that come out to in sterling/dollars/deutschmarks?" I enquired. Actually I wasn't very good at the yen yet.
They conferred for a few moments. I caught a word here and there such as "how many derra are there in a gryb ?", or something to that effect.
"Approximately 240,000 for two point seven eight kilograms. Excluding the general transaction levies, which we never pay anyway."
The expression on Kaz's face, which had heretofore been one of disapproval, changed with warp speed. There was the Barclaycard balance to consider.
Indeed. "What else?" I persisted.
Trevor pointed to the empty salt box, which I had absent-mindedly brought with me into the bedroom.
"Sodium chloride. Particularly that produced from the aqueous part of this planet. It is highly prized on many worlds for its hallucinogenic effects."
"But surely it is necessary for life elsewhere, as here" I said, thinking how similar most of the aliens in every version of Trek seem to be.
"That is correct. It is the chemical nature of the impurities that produces the sought after state. There are so many impurities in most of the "salt" produced in Terran littoral zones, that many races and species can be supplied with exactly the correct hallucinogen. Only repeated recrystallisations will render the drug completely useless. We do not use such material, as it would be profitless." Trevor replied.
So much for the claims of "purity" on the label.
Dave in the meantime had taken out the curious little instrument again, and was examining it intently. They spoke with each other rapidly.
"There really is little time left." Dave said to us.
Kaz was looking thoughtful. "How much does sea salt go for, then?" she asked, meeting my "I told you so" gaze with a Vulcanly neutral one of her own. "In a currency we can understand." she added hurriedly.
"That is simple. On the open wholesale market, 100,000 IGUs per kilogram.", then noting Kaz's expression, Trev continued "That comes out to $501,356 ."
"What is the street price per dose?" I asked, wishing I had a calculator handy.
"If by 'street' is meant retail..?" Dave began.
I nodded.
"Between fifteen and twenty pounds sterling, or the equivalent."
"And the usual dosage?" I was getting interested. Purely for academic reasons, naturally.
"The usual dose for most beings is in the microgram range, of course."

Of course. Now I really wished I'd had a calculator. All those zeroes were going to confuse me. I estimated that for the price of a box or two of ordinary sea salt (less than a quid each), I could probably realise enough to buy the Silicon Graphics^tm system of my dreams! And then some. I looked over at Kaz, who was clearly having the same dreams of avarice as I. Hold on just a minute! What am I saying? These are illegal drugs we're talking about. Causing untold misery to billions (probably) galaxy wide. Yes, but at rather a handsome profit. It's not my fault that they aren't illegal here, is it? We were both wrapped up in greedy speculation, when a very shrill beeping noise interrupted our reverie. This was closely followed by noises from Trevor and Dave, which can be best transliterated as: "Aiieeeeee!" or thereabouts.
That focussed our attention back on them.
There was a general air of panic about their behaviour (I think). Dave fumbled for the mystery instrument yet again. They stared at it, then at each other. Trevor produced another small instrument, after a couple of false starts including something that looked remarkably like the Hope diamond. I haven't seen it for years, so naturally I could have been mistaken.
Both of them worked furiously over what I presumed to be controls of some type. They exchanged quick comments from time to time, and appeared to ignore us entirely.
Kaz and I just looked at each other.
"Do you want to see a video?" she asked. Admirably cool, I must say. I thought we should wait until we had a better idea of the tactical situation.
"Is there a problem?" I asked, somewhat concerned. They were visitors after all, shady activities notwithstanding.
The Duo had not ceased their seemingly feverish efforts with their respective black boxes.( I use "black" advisedly. The actual colour wasn't registering properly on my brain. It seemed too fluid and mobile. Black merely represents the fact that the boxes were dark, and not the least bit reflective.)
They looked up simultaneously. "We have delayed our departure too long. We are in imminent..."
Dave was cut off abruptly by another sound, not emanating from either of their boxes. It was familiar somehow, but looking at Kaz for confirmation, neither of us could place it. The sound came from the living room. As we were getting up to look, there was a change in light intensity. Suddenly we were confronted by that all-too-well-known glittery shower. This time I knew that it hadn't been produced by powdered aluminium. We were witnessing the real thing!!
After a moment or two...there THEY were.
"I'm Captain James T. Kirk, of the starship Enterprise. This is my First Officer..." Kirk said.
"Commander Spock" Kaz and I chorused.
That seemed to put him off his stride somewhat. The famous pair looked at each other (very significantly).
"Captain, it appears that the rumours are indeed correct. There has been cultural contamination, as was feared." Spock said.
I should add here that neither of them looked exactly like their Hollywood counterparts, although the resemblance was extremely close.
Kirk looked slightly irritated.
Kaz and I just continued to stand in the bedroom doorway. Once again, she filled the breach brilliantly.
"Tea, gentlemen?" Just like that. Calm and (dare I say it...) Spock-like. Probably easier now, with the real thing in her living room. She motioned them to the futon. "Please take a seat."
Dave and Trevor were still in the bedroom. Despite differences in body language and psychology, I recognised abject cowering when I saw it. They were also quite pale...as though someone had watered down the burgundy. I got the impression that they were frightened of something. The fact that they were desperately trying to make themselves invisible in the corner probably contributed to that impression. It didn't seem as though Kirk and Spock had noticed them yet. I wondered what would happen when they did.

Kaz brought in the tea (yes, on the trolley...Trevor and Dave hadn't got around to "examining" it), but with a stern look towards the bedroom apologised for the lack of anything to go with it.
Captain Kirk took his cup, and peered into it, somewhat suspiciously. With more virtual daggers aimed bedroom-wards, Kaz explained that she'd unexpectedly run out of milk, lemon, and sugar.
Spock had said nothing, but I noticed that he'd unlimbered his tricorder, and had it somewhere in the vicinity of his cup. Curiosity got the better of me.
"Oh. Could I have a look at your tricorder?" I blurted out, without considering the consequences of my words (which is nothing new, by the way).
Kirk uttered a very tiny groan. His face was fairly easy to read. "This is going to be worse than I thought." was there as clearly as if it had been tattooed. I suppose Spock's face said much the same thing, but of course in Vulcan. Hard to tell actually. It seemed as though he were going to reply, when he looked over the top of my head (I was now seated at the dining table, while Kaz was sitting on the floor nearby).
"Captain" was all he said, indicating the bedroom. Kirk followed his Science Officer's gaze. The Captain's expression hardened into a "let's get this over with" look. After all this alien watching, it was somewhat of a relief to be able to read a Terran expression (allowing for twenty-third century nuances of body language). Of course I might have been wrong. The Vulcan was another matter. I left him to Kaz.
They put down their cups of tea, and got up. They entered the bedroom and confronted Trevor and Dave. Kaz and I both swivelled around to get a better view, but we decided that discretion was called for here. Neither of us ventured into the bedroom. Poor Trev and Dave were on their own.

It suddenly occurred to me that they (the Starfleet duo) were not the least bit surprised to see them (Trevor and Dave). I mentioned this, sotto voce, to my friend. She thought about it, and raised an eyebrow in reply. Spock broke the ominous silence, on cue.
"Well. If it isn't our old friends Trevor and Dave."
Of course he didn't really say that. I made that part up. Just checking to see if you're all still with me. What he did say was:
"... and ..., I presume" apparently pronouncing their untranslated names with ease. Not surprising, I suppose. Vulcans must have a knack for languages, and they seem to be very musical.
Trevor and Dave let loose a torrent in their own language. Kirk and Spock looked on with interest, nodding from time to time. Kaz and I exchanged puzzled looks. Then the proverbial light went on over our heads. Of course...the intradermal universal translator! We wished again that we'd had them.
In the meantime, the visitors (the burgundy coloured ones) seemed to have finished.
"When we get back to the ship, I'll have to thank Mr. Scott for his excellent drive field nullifier. They might have escaped again otherwise." Kirk said. Then he realised he had other listeners to his comments.
Kaz whispered "There goes the Prime Directive. Again."
Unfortunately, she forgot about extremely efficient Vulcan hearing. Spock turned his head slightly in our direction. I'd swear his face had "So what else is new?" written all over it. It could have been the light.
Kirk was speaking to Trevor. "You shouldn't have come here this time."
We both caught the unusually placed emphasis.
He continued "You've made things much worse for yourselves. Why did you do it?"
Trevor started off again. Dave just stood there, grovelling in silence. We were all but dying to know what was being said. Neither of us could believe that the Enterprise would have taken the enormous risk of travelling back in time (from their perspective) to apprehend a couple of drug dealing smugglers. Considering all the supposed sightings of UFOs and abductions of Terrans by ETs, Earth must abound with alien visitors. As with any tourist spot, there is bound to be a criminal element somewhere. One hardly uses military hardware to deal with petty thieves. We felt sure that, somehow, there was more to the story than we knew. It was simply a matter of waiting for someone to tell us.

Mr. Spock had discreetly taken out his communicator.
Kaz nudged me to make certain that I saw it.
He spoke into it very softly. Our ears not being Vulcan, we didn't really catch what he said. It did provide a certain thrill to know (or guess anyway) that he'd contacted The Ship, presumably orbiting overhead.
Apparently he received a satisfactory reply, and closed and replaced the communicator under his shirt. I wondered what actually held it (and the presumed phaser, although we'd seen no sign of one) in place. Hopefully something more high-tech than Velcro. I digress again.

Both Dave and Trevor were silent now. I got the impression they were resigned to their collective fate. It made me a little uncomfortable to see them in this state. On the other hand, it wasn't my flat that they'd had for Sunday brunch. I looked at Kaz to see what she might have thought. I was about to ask her, when Trevor and Dave vanished with that familiar noise, and sparkling cascade. The look on her face was difficult to interpret.
"Oi! What about my things?" she protested.
The Captain and Mr. Spock turned to face us. Both their faces were blank.
Kaz got up and took her inventory of missing possessions (four closely written sides of A4 paper). I just had time to see that she'd priced each item at its replacement value, and totalled the lot at the bottom of the final page. The sum was huge. She brandished the list in their faces.
"Those two made off with all this. I want every bit of it back. Not to mention an explanation." she finished.
"Oh." was all that Captain Kirk said.
"Any goods which they may have abstracted will need to be retained for evidence, in further prosecution proceedings." added Mr. Spock. "The law requires proof that the items in question were, in fact, in their possession at the time of apprehension."
I thought it best not to mention Trev's "waste" disposal. I waded in with "Presumably however, Starfleet will either return the property after the trial or pay full compensation in lieu." Kaz flashed me a grateful look.
Kirk looked distinctly uncomfortable. "That will not be possible."
"Why not?" we both cried. Seemed simple enough. Starfleet was undoubtedly well funded. A ship like the Enterprise must have cost millions of whatever it is they use (will use?) for money. Not to mention personnel costs. It was the least they could do.
Kirk and Spock traded informative glances. Spock gave a slight nod. Kirk seemed to agree. He spoke again: "Let's all sit down and talk about this" in his best 'win the ladies over with charm' manner. I don't think he genuinely knew what he was letting himself in for.
As they headed for the futon, there was no mistaking the look on Mr. Spock's face. "This should be good."
Precisely. We all sat down, and I refilled the mugs. Kaz ostentatiously placed the inventory on the coffee table, without any further comment. We waited politely for either of the Starfleet types to begin. They in their turn sat silently. Finally Kirk broke the silence.
"Did 'Dave' and...um..'Trevor' tell you anything about themselves?
"If you mean the the smuggling, drug dealing, and operating a business without a licence..." Here Kirk nodded. "Yes they did. They didn't tell us what planet they're from, or why they came specifically to this one." I said Kaz added "Not to mention why they've eaten two thirds of the contents of my flat." grimly.
"You were fortunate that it was only two thirds. Other victims have been stripped completely." Spock commented.
"You two interrupted them" Kaz replied acidly. She didn't mention that they'd also interrupted our chances for negotiating a lucrative business partnership. It didn't seem quite the right time to bring it up.
"Um. Yes. Well. They are criminals, wanted for a variety of charges." Kirk tried again. "They and their ship were in...custody, but managed to escape. They said they came to Earth because they wouldn't be so conspicuous, and...because of the salt content of the oceans." Kirk seemed slightly puzzled by that one.
Neither Kaz nor I bothered to enlighten them. They're the ones with all the explaining to do. Kaz merely replied "Yes. Do go on."
"That doesn't explain why Starfleet would send out its flagship, to the past, merely to catch a couple of inept petty thieves."
At this point, Spock interrupted. "Captain, they seem remarkably conversant with Starfleet's structure and technology."
"Later, Spock."
"But..." Spock subsided after a discreet glare from Kirk.
"The truth of the matter is..." Kirk began.
I must admit I got impatient. "Oh for heaven's sake, get on with it!", a phrase which my students have learned to fear. Kaz nodded her agreement. Kirk looked a little crestfallen. His famed way with women didn't seem to be working here. Not by a long shot.
To his credit, he recovered quickly and continued: "Actually Starfleet doesn't officially know that we're here. In this century, I mean."
"In other words,'should this mission fail, we/they will disavow any knowledge of your actions." I couldn't remember exactly how it went. "I suppose your orders self-destructed thirty seconds after you read them." We were a little fed up.
Spock looked shocked (sort of). "Captain, how could they have known?"
Kaz looked at me and shook her head in disbelief. Here were two people we'd wanted to meet for ages, and it turned out they're involved in some silly cloak and dagger (phaser?) impossible mission. "Continue." She was merciless.
Kirk continued: "Their biggest crime is actually unauthorised time travel. They belong in our century, not yours."
Here Mr. Spock picked up the story."For obvious reasons, time travel is very hazardous. Although the various theories are not in agreement, the possibility always remains that some actions may result in some alterations to the time continuum. It is currently impossible to predict which actions at which times may be damaging. Starfleet and other similar organisations in the galaxy have agreed to regulate time travel very carefully. It is normally restricted to highly trained personnel. Any operatives that are stationed in a time not normally their own are also specially trained. The smugglers could have caused irreparable damage." Here he stopped and looked at Captain Kirk.
Kirk shrugged. "You might as well give them the whole story Spock." He looked resigned.
Kaz and I had to admit that this was getting interesting.
"Starfleet has been gathering evidence that seems to point to some person or persons unknown, from our century, currently inhabiting your timestream. Without authorisaton, obviously. We know about the ones who were sent here deliberately."
We raised a collective eyebrow at that one. The Vulcan didn't seem to notice.
"Severe cultural contamination seems to have resulted. For example, your knowledge about us, the Enterprise, and Starfleet is anomalous. I am curious to know how you came by it."
"That's easy" Kaz replied. "If you'll excuse me for a moment.", she said as she got up and went to the bedroom.
"Sir (no harm in being polite, even if I'm not in his chain of command), you mentioned the possibility of unauthorised individuals from your time living here now. Do you know who they are?" It seemed to me they could just locate those individuals, and beam them up.
Spock replied "We have only one confirmed name. A former Starfleet officer named Roddenberry. He left his vessel without permission, when it was here on a research mission. There is also a list of unconfirmed suspects.
" Fascinating. "I don't think he will give you any trouble anymore. He's dead." I said.
Kirk's eyes bulged.
Spock looked a bit ...I don't know what.
In the meantime, Kaz had returned from her bedroom, bearing a couple of videotapes, and a couple of books. She had carefully avoided the TNG tapes she'd bought the other day, but hadn't viewed yet. I nodded my approval. We have our own version of the Prime Directive to uphold. She handed the lot to Kirk and Spock. "Here." was all she said. How very Vulcan.

Our Starfleet visitors looked over the materials minutely. I made some fresh tea. Mr. Spock's comment was predictable. "Fascinating."
Kirk said nothing.
"How many people have access to these...items?" Spock asked.
"I don't know precisely" Kaz started, knowing the Vulcan would prefer a precise answer. "In the English speaking community, I would guess millions. I don't know the extent to which these have been translated into other languages." she finished.
"Millions?" choked out Kirk. He absent-mindedly began massaging his forehead.
Kaz didn't enlighten him about all the films, and the spin-off series. They're the ones with the hyper-computers. We thought they should have done their homework.
"Spock??" he pleaded. What had he expected his First Officer to do? The damage had already been done.
"The damage has already been done, Captain. You did say Roddenberry was dead?" Spock asked.
I nodded. I very nearly asked if anyone named Berman was also on their suspect list. But then, all things considered, Berman would most likely have come from their future. Best to keep quiet I decided. It's complicated enough as it is.
"It would be impossible to track down all the contaminating materials, as well as modifying the memories of the possessors. These...stories are regarded as fiction, I believe." He looked at us for confirmation. We nodded in unison. "It is best in this case, as humans put it, to leave well enough alone."
Kirk sighed. "I think you're right, Spock. History, I mean our history, doesn't seem to have been altered. I'd like to talk to the Guardian about this, though." He looked at us, as though he'd said too much again.
Kaz disappeared again, and returned with "The City on the Edge of Forever."
Kirk rubbed his forehead some more. I felt a little sorry for him. "Do you want some aspirin or something? That is if Doctor McCoy wouldn't consider it too primitive and toxic or whatever."
"No, Bones has nothing against..." He stopped. "That's it. I give up.
Spock, contact the ship, and get us out of here." He looked utterly defeated.
Kaz and I traded urgent looks. "Not so fast. There's still the matter of my missing things. It doesn't seem very honorable of either the Federation or Starfleet to let me suffer such a loss."
Kirk shook his head. "Starfleet would never allow any expenses for a covert mission. I'm sorry."
Kaz took a shot in the dark. "Because they're the ones who let Trevor and Dave escape in the first place. The two of them probably also stole some method of time travel from Starfleet, who's too embarrassed to admit it."
That shot definitely hit the target. There was some figurative shuffling of feet. I was enjoying myself.
Spock looked at Kirk (very significantly, I think).
"Captain, I believe the ship's replicators could duplicate most, if not all, of the missing items."
Kirk looked weary. "True, but what are we going to tell the accountants?" He paused. "Will that be satisfactory?" That question was one of the biggest mistakes he'd ever made (will make?). Kaz thought about it for a bit. Kirk and Spock were uncomfortable, to say the least. She let the suspense build. I suddenly realised what was coming.
"Go for it!" I thought.
"Actually, considering the trouble and inconvenience I've suffered...and the fact that you might not have caught up with Dave and Trevor, had I not detained them here for explanations," (here the Enterprise duo looked vaguely guilty). "no, it isn't satisfactory." she finished.
Now it was Spock's turn to err grievously. Somewhat impatiently he asked: "Madame...precisely what is it you wish?"
You fell for that one, my Vulcan friend.
"To be precise...I wish for both of us to accompany you back to the Enterprise and stay there."
Well said, Kaz.
"It's highly irregular. We don't know what that will do to the time continuum." Spock replied, a little huffily I thought.
"You lot don't seem to mind sendng 'operatives' back to other times. What's the difference if we come forward instead? Someone from your future would probably come back to your present, if we changed anything in our present that would affect your past." I said meaningfully.
There was a short silence, while they logic-ed that one out. I thought I heard Kirk muttering something about "their future...our past..." but I could have been mistaken.
"How do you propose to explain your absences? Family and friends would notice, surely?" Spock asked, quite logically. Good question, but I had an answer prepared.
I hadn't watched TNG for nothing, even if Kaz couldn't be bothered.
"Simple. You make androids for us. No one will know. If you can't manage the aging bit, then program them to relocate every few years, to avoid awkward questions." I said.
"That technology is classified." Kirk faltered. " In any case, the androids we are capable of producing don't have human emotions. That problem hasn't been solved yet."
Spock nodded agreement. I nodded to Kaz to answer that one, certain that we were thinking alike again.
"That's simple, too. Program them to tell everyone that we are practising to be Vulcans." She smiled.
Spock may have lifted his eyes heavenwards. Perhaps it was just to avoid looking at the psychotic carpeting. "A possibility" Spock replied.
"Beside" Kaz continued, "If you don't take us with you, we'll start telling everyone that you lot are not fiction. There are enough people around who are quite willing to believe anything. Sooner or later, that is bound to have an effect on your history. An uncontrolled effect."
"A distinct possibility, Captain" Spock added.
Kirk was silent. One could see that he was contemplating a Command Decision. It was a tricky business admittedly. However it is what he's paid for.
We waited silently as well. I was in my 'desert island' mode, deciding what to pack. I suspected that Kaz was doing the same thing. Very nearly the same thing.
"How much do you think they'd pay for some twentieth century antiques?" she whispered to me.
I shook my head. Not the sort of thing one could phone Sotheby's about, is it?
Captain Kirk seemed to have reached his decision. I'm sure my blood pressure rose well beyond recommended limits. "I'm a little concerned about how you two would adapt to our technology, and social customs." He said. "It's not as though we can provide any sort of counselling service."
"Give it time " I thought. What I said was "Captain, Commander, we are both trained scientists. As for dealing with alien, and therefore possibly bizarre, social customs, I will remind you that we are in London." That seemed to do it.
Shaking his head slightly, he said "Mr. Spock, contact the ship and inform them that we will be bringing two guests aboard."
"I presume that you require time to make arrangements, and gather personal effects?" Spock asked.
We both nodded. "I don't live here, so I need to go home first." I added.
Spock continued "The preparation and programming of the androids will require approximately one hundred twenty hours. Your presences will be required for a significant fraction of that time. How will you explain the temporary absence needed before the androids replace you?"
Good question. Kaz solved that one.
"We've been trying to take a trip to the Channel Islands for ages. We just tell everyone that we've finally managed to get ourselves organised, and are going."
"I'm still not sure about this..." Kirk began.
Uh oh. Surprisingly, Mr. Spock came to our rescue.
"Captain, it will be a unique opportunity to study twentieth century modes of thought, dress, culture, speech (that's a good one...neither Kaz nor I are native speakers of English), scientific practice .."
"Thank you Mr. Spock. That will do." Kirk interrupted. "Can you be ready in twenty-four hours?"
"Absolutely!" we chorused. Is this man kidding? We would have agreed to twenty-four minutes!!

Kirk still looked unhappy, but seemed to accept the situation. Mr. Spock completed his call to the ship. I think Kaz and I were a bit dazed, but not for long. A chance such as this doesn't come along very often. Spock was examining the cover of one of the videos. It just happened to have his picture on it.
"The ears are unattractive, and not realistic. The skin tone is also inorrect."
"Be reasonable, sir. Mr. Roddenberry would have been working from memory, when he approved the make-up design." I said. Then a thought struck me. "Which ship was he serving on when he went AWOL? Or is that a bad question?"
Captain Kirk looked grim. "Mine."
Kaz was being practical. "How much mass can we bring aboard?"
Spock nodded approvingly. "You will be given a yeoman's allowance, which is thirty kilograms. I trust that will be sufficient." he replied.
"Will we have access to the replicators?" I asked.
"Affirmative. Within reason." he added.
"Then thirty kilos are plenty." I said.
"Look, Kaz, I've got to go. I'll see everyone tomorrow. Here, I presume?" looking at Kirk for confirmation.
He nodded wearily. "We have some research the history section would like to complete. They're in the Museum now."
I wondered if they would catch on to Trev and Dave's depredations. I departed, leaving Kirk and Spock with Kaz. She was showing them some of the novels. Just as the door closed, I caught something about "we never visited that planet" but didn't hear the rest.

Of course the next twenty or so hours passed by in a blur. I didn't sleep at all. It wasn't all that hard to decide what to take. The violin, of course, and some of my favourite music (in case the notation had changed (will change?) too much). All my jewellery, since the majority of it had been given to me by family and close friends. My old Bible, and a few other books (among them Sherlock Holmes, Dr. Thorndyke, and the rest of my vintage detective novels). I also decided to take a few of my toys, again most of which had been gifts. The armadillo, dolphin, and black meat-loaf cat definitely. Of course lots of photographs. I suddenly had a twinge of panic. I would never see any of these people again! Yes...that would hurt. But what a trade-off. I wondered if I should tell my family. I hoped that the android would be a good substitute. It really was difficult. I thought that perhaps I would be able to keep track of them somehow, through the ship's archives. Anyway, there was a lot to do to make the transition as undetectible as possible. I left messages about the Channel Islands jaunt on several answering machines, and left the house.

When I rejoined Kaz at her place, she was also packed and ready to go. We had indeed selected many of the same sorts of things to take. She was taking her viola and music, jewellery, books, photos, her siddurim, her watercolours (painted by her grandfather), and other odds and ends. Neither of us had bothered with any Star Trek stuff. It didn't seem necessary somehow. We sat in silence for a few minutes, sipping tea (proper Assam, this time). Kaz voiced our fears: "What if they don't come?" She put down the tea. "I couldn't stand it!!"
"Look" I said, more confidently than I felt. "Whatever else those people are, or may be, I think they would keep their word." I was uneasy as well. To come this close... "Anyway, even if they didn't show up, it's worth it just to know that they are real." (I think.)
I didn't really believe I could stand it either if they didn't come. I shivered slightly. We both wanted this so badly. It was 23 hours, 36 minutes, and 41 seconds when the high pitched buzz and sparkles saved both our sanities (we did so have sanities to save! There's no need to be insulting.).
We looked at each other in relief.
"I trust you are both ready to depart." Mr. Spock said.
We nodded, not quite trusting ourselves to speak just yet.
"Where are your personal belongings?" he continued.
We pointed to our bags behind him, in the bedroom. I think he got a tiny bit impatient (an impatient Vulcan?...never.) at our speechlessness by this point.
"Are you both ill with some form of throat malady? The Captain may not necessarily wish to delay the Enterprise's departure."
That did it. We choked out various protestations as to our fitness to travel. I thought I detected a slight crinkle of amusement around his eyes, but I could have been mistaken.
He nodded to Kaz. "With your permission, I wish to take a few of your two dimensional recordings, 'videos' I believe they were called, with us. They should prove highly fascinating."
"Of course, sir" Kaz replied. At this point we would have done anything for him. She opened the drawer where the tapes were kept. "Take your pick."
He rapidly sifted through the collection. I knew the TNG tapes were kept separately. Kaz asked if he wanted any of the novels.
"Do they not duplicate the material contained in these recordings?" he asked.
Kaz shook her head. She explained how the fans hadn't had enough with the seventy plus episodes, and continually wrote stories to fill the shortage. She then explained that the studio owned the rights to the characters, and made more out of the off shoots than they ever made out of the original series. Spock merely raised an eyebrow at that. He'd selected a dozen tapes, including (predictably) 'Amok Time', 'Galileo 7', and 'The Empath'. He added some books: all of Diane Duane's on our recommendation, and the others I'll leave for you to work out. He piled the books and tapes carefully on our bags. "If you are ready, I will contact the ship." He looked at us enquiringly.
I think he was still giving us a chance to back out. We looked at each other (very significantly), and looked at him expectantly. He nodded approval. He brought out his communicator and flipped it open.
"Spock to Enterprise"
"Enterprise, Uhura here." came the disembodied reply.
"Stand by Enterprise" he paused and turned to us again. My heart rate went up exponentially. What was wrong? "You will find the transporter effect less disorienting if you remain motionless until it is completed."
We nodded acknowledgement, and concentrated on standing very still. Not easy to do when one's heart is pounding 200 to the minute. There may have been that microsecond's worth of amusement in his eyes again. I wasn't in much shape to confirm that, for some reason. Then Spock said the magic words: "Three to beam up, with baggage."
Kaz and I just barely had time to trade mutually uninterpretable glances before the transporter took hold of us.
What I felt as I was being disassembled, transmitted something in the order of ten thousand kilometres, and reassembled is quite literally indescribable. My brain had absolutely no idea of what was happening to my body. The moment I decided I badly needed to scream, it was all over. No wonder McCoy was always grumbling about having his atoms scattered about the universe! My utter relief and delight on finally being aboard the Enterprise was interrupted by the universe starting to spin around me at an alarming rate. I had closed my eyes before we beamed up, opened them briefly when I felt I was a real person after all, and then had to shut them again. I was horrified that I was going to be sick all over the transporter platform. I felt someone grab me by the upper arms, and lower me to a sitting position. Thankfully whoever it was hadn't tried to make me lie down flat. That would have finished me off completely. I managed to hold my head between my hands. Dimly I heard some sounds near my face. There was a weird stinging near the top of my arm. The dizziness was replaced by...its absence. Gradually, but very quickly, if you know what I mean. I felt better, but still didn't dare move or open my eyes. I'd had vertigo enough times before to distrust its apparent absence. One wrong move could bring the whole thing crashing over me again. There was a voice a little distance from me.
"Don't worry. It does hit some people that way the first time. How do you feel?"
I risked opening my eyes. I was confronted with a pair of very familiar blue eyes, set into an equally familiar friendly face. After a quick run of my own internal diagnostics, I decided I was OK. "Better, I think." I looked for Kaz.
She and Spock had come down from the platform, and were waiting on the side. She looked a bit pale, but was standing, and functional. Which was certainly more then I'd managed to achieve in my first few minutes aboard ship.
Someone was holding something near Kaz, and running it up and down. I saw that Dr. McCoy (who else) was doing the same to me. He noticed both our looks.
"We're just checking that neither of you two are harbouring anything particularly nasty." he chuckled. "Nothing to worry about."
"Wouldn't the transporter filter out any pathogens?" Kaz asked.
I'm glad someone's head was clear enough to ask intelligent questions.
"Very good" McCoy replied. "It would if we'd told it to. In this case, we took the risk, because it isn't very often I get to collect antique 'bugs'. If either of you did have something the crew weren't inoculated against, I'd have to decontaminate you here. As it is, both of you can accompany me to Sickbay, but you'll still be in quarantine for a day or two, until we've mapped your flora thoroughly."
The doctor turned back to me.
"Feel up to a short trip?" He reached over to help me up.
Whatever he'd given me definitely worked. I was thoroughly exhausted, but not dizzy anymore. Cautiously I levered myself to a standing position.
"Your personal effects will be delivered to your respective quarters." Mr. Spock said. "You may occupy them when, and if, Dr. McCoy decides to release you from his undoubtedly interminable examination of you." Spock nodded towards McCoy.
My head was clear enough to smile at Kaz. We were both thinking "They really do have those famous 'arguments'!"
We all left the transporter room. It wasn't far to Sickbay. We were gawking like any tourists would. The few crew we passed stared just as hard at us. I must admit though, that I didn't take in all that much to begin with. I could see that Kaz was being more observant.

Once in Sickbay, McCoy called out "Look sharp! We've got company."
He led us to a side room with two beds in it. It looked surprisingly comfortable. In the series, the medical facilities always looked strictly functional. Maybe Gene Roddenberry had never spent much time in Sickbay. A woman came in holding two small bundles, which she offered to us.
" Thank you, Ms. Chapel" Kaz said. She was polite, as always.
Poor Nurse Chapel looked slightly confused. "But, Doctor...how could they...?" she began.
McCoy grinned his famous grin, and said "I'll explain later." Turning to us "Put those examination gowns on, and put your clothes in these bags." He noticed my look of consternation, and chuckled. "You'll get them back, after we've collected the micro-organisms from them."
That's a relief...I didn't want to part with my favourite sweatshirt (the one with the wolf).
"The 'facilities' are over there, the food replicator is here. I'm restricting you to water only until we've got all our specimens and samples." he added, seeing the Pavlovian response we'd both made to the word food.
Neither of us had eaten since the day before.
"Why?" asked Kaz.
I answered that one. "They don't want our gut bacteria and chemistry changed by the introduction of 'foreign' substances." I can't say I quite liked my apparent role as a museum piece. I was hungry. "How long is all this going to take?"
McCoy smiled again. "Not long. You two won't be very late for lunch."
We looked at each other. Lunch?? It was early evening when we left London. It was obviously about mid-morning, ship's time. Talk about major jet lag! Of course jet didn't really cover it. Time lag, maybe?

McCoy and Chapel left, indicating that they would be back in a few minutes, to begin 'dissecting' us.
Kaz and I just looked at each other.
She spoke first. "Do you believe any of this?" very straight-forwardly.
"No. Do you?" I replied, very calmly.
She shook her head. "But it's one hell of a great hallucination!" she grinned hugely.
Absolutely! So we availed ourselves of the loo ( an interesting device that didn't involve water, but I couldn't help thinking that everything that went in there was going to be examined and analysed), and changed our clothes according to instructions.
We were both poking around and trading exclamations of "Look at this!" I doubt either of us had ever been happier. We were prodded, examined, scanned, recorded, sampled, and I don't even know what else. I'll spare you the details.
Eventually we were able to see our android replacements, before and after their brains were programmed. It's disconcerting to see oneself standing across the room. Especially when you knew your alter ego would be better at anything you knew how to do.
Mr. Scott explained that he and Mr. Spock had managed to improve many of the algorithms involved, resulting in androids that could learn and imitate human emotions and behaviour. Our friends might notice some change in 'our' behaviour, but as the androids picked up on things, the change would be less noticeable. So...there we have it. How the androids, and we ourselves, got on in our respective new lives...is a whole 'nother story.