Fritz: All Fritz/All Fritz.zip/All Fritz/FILES/MISCEOUS/DISKZINE.LZH/BIRDHAND.DOC

Text File | 1988-07-31 | 12KB | 220 lines

                            A Bird in the Hand

                                    by
                              Jenne Stanbrook


     The  transmutation  of man to beast and back again was a theory as old
as the soft heather clad hills of earth.  The art of changing was  easy  in
this day and age.  No more "magic" and "witchcraft".  One simply needed the
help  of  the  rare  and  illegal Koranian Xenogem.  The stone, placed in a
special pouch around the waist, had the ability  to  transform  the  person
using  it to any other form that he or she wanted.  The only difficulty was
that one was to stand naked and place the skin, pelt or  hide  of  whatever
animal,  fish  or  bird  that was to be the new form over the shoulders and
recite a special formula.  The belt or pouch was used to  hold  the  stone,
for if it left the body, a person might never return to their own shape. It
was  simple,  not  too very dangerous, and highly illegal.  It took a brave
and daring man to try it ... or a very foolish and impulsive one. Jim  Kirk
thought he was such a man, but which kind was still to be proved.

     For years the young Kirk had dreamed a dream.  As a boy he watched the
aerial  acrobatics  of  gigantic  white  birds.  Hawks, he assumed, who had
stayed sufficiently high and far so that he could not get a clear look. His
dream had always been to become one of these magnificent  white  birds  and
soar the thermal currents with perfect freedom.  He could master the art of
changing,  he  felt,  holding fast to his Xenogem. The sketchy instructions
warned him of dangers, tanta- lizingly unspecified.  He bristled  with  his
own  importance  and confidence.  Someday, he thought, I'll try it, but not
quite today.

     Jim's dream rushed back upon him one afternoon while he was  on  leave
on  a  primitive mining planet.  While idly scanning the contents of a pawn
shop window, he spotted a skin with white feathers.  To soar,  he  thought,
to fly free!

     As a young newly created officer in Star Fleet, Jim already showed the
impulsive  decision  making  that  would  sometimes get him into trouble in
later life.  For right now, however, his mind was made up.  He might  never
find  another  chance to get such a skin.  He had to have it - and whatever
Jim Kirk wanted, Jim Kirk usually got.

     "I'd like to see the skin in the window," he said to  the  sleazy  old
man behind the counter.

     The  old  man squinted at the neat young man.  "Whatsa matter wid you,
sonny? The window too dirty to see through all of a sudden?  You  got  eyes
...   so  look,  already."  He  took  a  healthy  swig from a bottle on the
counter.

     Jim mentally counted to ten.  Or at least he tried.  He  only  got  to
the  number  two  when  his  impatience got the better of him.  He forced a
smile and proceeded to explain further.  "I'd like to see it close  up.   I
think it might be what I'm looking for.  If the price is right, that is."

     "Oh,  the  price  is too high, and it ain't exactly what you want, but
you'll do me a favor and take it off my hands for about half of  what  it's
worth.  Right,  sonny?"  The  shopkeeper  smiled wickedly as he went to the
window.

     This shop is beginning to get stuffy,  thought  Kirk,  and  warm.   He
moved  self-consciously  from  foot  to  foot  in impatience.  This old man
really knows his customers, he went on mentally.

     The shopkeeper laid the beautiful skin  on  the  counter.  "It's  very
rare  to get a bird skin with feathers intact.  In fact I've never seen one
before.  Some only have a feather or two, but this seems almost complete."

     Kirk examined it closely.  It seemed kind of small  for  the  bird  he
had in mind, or did it? "Is it a white hawk?" he asked curiously.

     "Hawk?  How  would  I know? So all of a sudden I look like an arny ...
orna ...  damn bird expert? So how many big white birds are there? You want
a skin with white feathers. I got a skin with white feathers.   You're  not
happy,  I  can put it back." He picked up the skin and started back towards
the window.

     "Wait!" Kirk thought frantically.  The price was nearly a month's  pay
but  he  couldn't  for  the life of him think of any other bird that he had
ever seen that was pure white.  Feeling slightly  foolish,  he  nodded  and
reached  for  his money.  Clutching his rather stiff bundle, he went off on
his way to his temporary berth on the U.S.S. Enterprise.

     For weeks,  the  white  feathered  skin  lay  in  a  drawer  in  Jim's
quarters, not forgotten, but waiting for that special day.

     Finally  that  day  had  arrived.   Jim  had  been in trouble all day.
Everything seemed to be going wrong.  His senior officers seemed to delight
in making him look foolish, and as he sat brooding  at  the  injustices  of
being  a  not-quite-full-lieutenant,  he  remembered the skin. Carefully he
drew it from its hiding place and lay it in his lap.  It wouldn't hurt,  he
thought,  to  try  it  on ...  just for the experience ... just to lift his
drooping spirits.

     Jim stood up and leisurely dropped his clothes on the floor.  I  won't
really  change,  he  thought,  but  I'll  run  the  process  over  just for
practice.  He threw the skin over his shoulders and seated himself  on  the
bed,  holding  the  Xenogem.   Slowly  he  went over the instructions.  The
crucial belt that held the  gem  which  would  return  him  to  normal  lay
forgotten on the floor.

     First  there  was  an  unfamiliar  twisting  disorientation and then a
stretching,  shrinking,  itching  feeling,  and  when  it  was  over,  Kirk
shivered.  The  room  suddenly seemed larger to him.  He looked down at the
beautiful white plumage on his chest, and he rubbed his  head  against  his
wing.

     "It  won't hurt to fly over to the dresser so that I can see myself in
the mirror," he said aloud, startling himself. Then he gave a  little  bird
smile.   Of  course,  he  thought, how silly.  That's part of the change as
well.  You have full use of your human voice.

     With  a  gigantic  leap,  Jim  launched  himself  into  the  air,  and
immediately  plunged  painfully  to  the  deck.  With a startled squawk, he
shook himself and smoothed down his ruffled feathers.  Maybe flying  is  an
acquired  art,  he  thought,  as  he  hopped onto a chair and then onto the
dresser.  For a long, long minute he stared into the mirror.

     That's  funny,   he   wondered.    I   certainly   don't   look   very
aerodynamically  sound.   Look  at  those  little short stubby wings.  They
certainly wouldn't hold up my body weight in free flight.  He strutted  and
looked  back  over his shoulder at his reflection.  And look at those legs.
I've seen better legs on my dinner plate.  In fact, they look just like  --
OH,  MY  GOD!  It  can't be.  It isn't true! Oh no ... I'm a chicken! A big
white chicken!

     Calm down, Kirk, he thought desperately.  I can just change back.   No
big  deal.   Kirk  jumped  down  to  the floor and froze.  The belt! He was
looking at the belt that was his return ticket to being  human  ...  or  at
least Jim Kirk's version.

     Now,  let's look at this thing logically, Jim reasoned. I'm a chicken,
and the special belt is on the floor instead of on me.  I  go  on  duty  in
twenty  minutes,  and I have the distinct feeling that Second Officer Spock
is not going to be amused.  In fact, I think the only thing that I have  to
be  thankful  for  right  now  is  that  Mr.  Spock doesn't eat meat ... or
chicken!

     With a disgusted sigh, Jim hopped to the door and made another of  his
famous  decisions.   I'll  find  Mr.   Scott.   He knows I had the Xenogem.
He'll help, I hope.

     The door responded sluggishly to his verbal command to open, and  with
a  great  deal  of  trepidation, Kirk picked up the Xenogem in his beak and
went on his way searching for Mr. Scott.

     Mr. Spock felt a definite surge of the human  emotion  of  pride  each
time  he  thought  of  himself as "emotionless".  He dealt so seldomly with
emotions of his own, that he was totally incapable of recognizing one  when
he  had  it.   He always claimed to be above hate, love, fear, passion, and
the other emotions that normally plagued humans.  His one rather noticeable
failing was curiosity.  And he had just seen something that set his pointed
ears tingling.  There,  before  him,  was  a  large  white  chicken  calmly
proceeding   down  the  corridor  towards  Mr.  Scott's  quarters  carrying
something in its mouth.  Silently he watched as the ungainly  bird  stopped
before  the chief engineer's door.  Several seconds went by before the bird
turned and started back towards the crew quarters.

     Mr.  Spock stepped backward into a side corridor, not  wishing  to  be
seen  by  the  silly  bird.   He  wanted  to  observe,  not to be observed.
Carefully, he stalked the white chicken and  watched  the  creature  as  it
returned  to  the cabin that James Kirk shared with several young officers.
The door closed behind the bird leaving Spock alone with his thoughts about
chickens, humans, and pets.

     With a sigh of defeat, Jim hopped onto  his  desk  and  stood  on  the
intercom  button.   It  wouldn't  depress  at  first, not being used to the
weight of the chicken.  Dropping the gem and feeling immensely foolish, Jim
jumped up and down on it.  Finally  it  engaged,  and  after  a  couple  of
embarrassing  squawking  false  starts,  he managed to get a message to Mr.
Scott.  Scotty know all about the shape changing stone and he would be able
to help, he said.

     Being able to help didn't always mean being willing to help.  And  Mr.
Scott didn't seem to be too willing to do anything but laugh.

     "Please, Mr. Scott! You've got to help me!"

     "Give  me three good reasons, laddie.  I've warned ye often enow about
going  off  half  cocked."  Mr.   Scott  dissolved  into  laughter  at  his
inadvertent  pun.   "I  come here to give ye some good news, and here ye go
and play games like a wee bairn.  I'm thinking ye  need  a  keeper,  or  at
least a chicken coop."

     "I  can't  go through the rest of my life as a chicken. I want to be a
Star Fleet officer -- not a box lunch.  There's got to be a way to  reverse
the transmutation."

     "Oh, there is, Jaimie, but I don't know if you're ready for it yet."

     "I'm  ready!  I'm  ready!  I'm  really sick of being a bird.  Feathers
itch, and I think I've got fleas."

     "Chickens don't get fleas.  They get mites.   Maybe  you  should  just
stay a chicken for a while, just to show you an 'alternative lifestyle'."

     "What  do  you  mean?"  Jim's  feathers bristled and fluffed in anger.
"I've seen enough for now, and I already know what I  did  wrong  with  the
process.  I just forgot the belt."

     "Nae,  there's more than that.  Ye picked the wrong time to change, ye
were sloppy with your planning, and ye didn't check out what pelt  ye  were
donning.  What would have happened if ye had taken a pelt of an animal that
couldn't survive in our atmosphere? Ye'd be dead now, laddie, and  out  the
garbage hatch. Think it over.  Better a live chicken than a dead alien."

     Kirk  sat very still on the end of the bed.  "Perhaps you're right Mr.
Scott.  I guess I was ... uh ... a little hasty in my decision.   But  I've
learned  my  lesson  now.  I really have.  I'll never make another hasty or
thoughtless decision as long as I live, if  I  live.   Can't  you  help  me
change back now? Please?"

     Scotty  laughed.  "This is really on odd position you've placed us in,
considering all things.   And  me  down  here  to  tell  you  about  a  new
assignment.  Oh,  I'll  change  ye  back,  all  right, but just look at the
opportunity ye are passing up.  After all, what other ship in the fleet can
honestly say that the new acting Chief of Security is a chicken?"

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