by Jane Woods
Johnny shot Roy an inquisitive look as they got out of the squad. The call
had been about people trapped in an elevator that was stuck between floors
at a new high rise hotel. While it did not surprise them that the building,
itself, was an ultra modern design made mostly of glass, the space ship parked
in front of the hotel did make them stop and stare.
The engine had pulled into the lot right behind them. Captain Stanley and
the others joined the paramedics in gaping at the flying saucer that was
roped off in a small grassy area under the hotel sign. They were so absorbed
with the space craft that it took them a few minutes to notice the marquis
under the name of the hotel. It read: WELCOME STAR TREK CONVENTION.
“Oh that explains it,” Chet said lightly. “I gotta admit that
UFO had me goin’ there for a minute. I thought some of Gage’s relatives
had arrived from his home planet.”
“Shut up, Chet,” Johnny snarled. He feigned disinterest but he
really would have liked to have a chance to peek in the windows of the flying
saucer.
“Must be some kind of movie prop,” Captain Stanley surmised.
“Well, gentlemen, we’re not here to see the sights. We have some
people trapped in an elevator. Let’s get inside and see what we can
do about that.”
The crew of Station 51 followed their intrepid captain into the hotel. The
lobby was very impressive. It was several stories tall and everything had
a sleek, futuristic look about it. The decor, however, took a decided backseat
to its inhabitants. Several people were milling around looking slightly confused
and sleep-deprived. Others sat around in small groups on the chrome and acrylic
furniture. Many a lively discussions was taking place in which all participants
were talking and none were listening. It wasn’t so much what they were
doing that was un-nerving as the way they were dressed. At least half of
the people in the room wore long, flowing garments and had pointed ears.
Others were dressed in some semblance of a Star Fleet uniform. Most of the
shirts were gold or blue. Red was conspicuously not present. Still, most
of them looked relatively human. It was the creatures with blue skin and
antennae that caused the firemen to stop in their tracks.
A green girl, who did not appear to have missed many meals, stepped up to
Chet and threw her arms around him. “I am your Orion slave girl.
I am here to make all of your dreams come true,” she said seductively.
None of Chet’s dreams included a very large green woman dressed only
in a very small brass bikini, flowing veils and coke bottle bottom glasses.
He wasn’t sure how to tell her that. He wasn’t even sure how to
continue to breath in the bear hug she was applying.
It took some harsh words from Captain Stanley before she finally let him
go and wandered away in search of another master. It took an angry glare
from the captain to get Johnny to stop laughing, also.
They continued to work their way through the mob and up to the front desk.
A harried hotel employee could not even get to them right away. When he did
he had to shout to be heard over the din in the lobby. “Vulcans, Klingons
and even worse yet actors. If I had time, I’d go up and throw
myself off the roof to get away from all these weirdos and their cockamamie
demands. You have no idea what I have been going through this weekend.
Look! Just look at this!” He pulled open a cabinet behind the desk.
Hundreds of tribbles poured out on to the floor. “What the hell?!!!”
He reached in behind them and pulled out a multipage list. “These are
room service requests -- saurian brandy. What the hell is that? And the food
is even weirder ---” He suddenly noticed the annoyed look on the
captain’s face.
“Somebody called the Fire Department about people trapped in an
elevator,” Captain Stanley yelled above the crowd. He was wondering
if it had been one of these lunatic’s idea of a joke.
“Not people,” the desk clerk sighed. “Trekkies. Not that I
wouldn’t love to just leave them there but we can’t have one of
our elevators out of commission like that. I called building maintenance
but being as this is the weekend they can’t seem to find anyone who
knows what to do so I figured that you guys would know.” Suddenly all
the lights on his PBX box lit up. “Now what?” he groaned, stepping
away from the counter to answer his phones. He pushed 30 or 40 tribbles aside,
put on his head set and began answering calls. It took him several minutes
to get back to the captain. “It’s worse than I thought,” he
gasped. Panic was written all over his face. “Now all six elevators
are stuck!! And there’s a report the people on #4, the one that has
been stuck the longest, are having trouble breathing! You have to do
something!”
The crew had come upon stuck elevators many times before. It was usually
in some old run down flea trap though, not a new, ultra modern hotel like
this one. “Gage, DeSoto, go out and get your equipment. Kelly, Lopez,
bring in axes and prying tools. I doubt this place has anything as archaic
as a hand crank so we may have to pull people out and put them on the closest
floor to them.”
“What about the elevators? You can’t leave them all stuck!”
the high strung desk clerk insisted.
“Mister, the elevators are your problem. We’ll get the people out
but that’s as far as our responsibility goes in this. Come on, men,
let’s move it.” He had spotted a large sign that said ELEVATORS
and he and Stoker made their way in that direction while the others fought
the crowd to get back outside.
The elevators were in a little alcove with three cars on each side. The entire
room was mirrored. “Great,” Captain Stanley muttered, “a mirrored
room just what every fun house needs.” Above each of the six elevators
was a row of stylized black numbers. A bright red light underneath the numbers,
indicated where the actual car was located. Each of the six was stuck between
a different floor. The hotel had 20 floors.
There were several people already in the alcove. One impatient young woman
was pressing and re-pressing the call buttons for each of the cars. She was
dressing in a flowing purple robe with gold trim. She was heavily made up
and her eyebrows each pointed up toward her pointed ears.
“Now, T’Kate, you are forgetting the teachings of T’Pau and
the other honored elders. It is highly illogical to assume that ---”
one of her companions began.
“T’Judith! Look at your chronometer! It is nearly 1400 hours. Leonard
Nimoy is going to speak at 15:30 in the Meteor Room. If we don’t get
there early we'll get crappy seats. I need to get changed and -- T’Lois,
get back over here!” She tried to grab the third Vulcan elder in her
group but she was unsuccessful.
T’Lois wandered over to Captain Stanley and Stoker. T’Lois was
evidently a fallen Vulcan, as the alcohol could be smelled on her breath
from several feet away. “Great Costumes!” she slurred as she grabbed
for the Captain Stanley’s turnout coat. “S000 authentic.”
She stumbled and he had to grab her to keep her on her feet. He was positive
that his wife would not approve of the way she was looking at him. Luckily
the other Vulcans claimed her.
“I’m sorry, folks,” he said in a loud voice (while pretended
not to be at all flustered) “the elevators all appeared to be out of
commission, at the moment.”
“Happens every con,” a young man dressed completely in black laughed.
He wore a tag that identified him as a dealer. “Guess I’ll go grab
something to eat and try again later.”
Most of the others moved off too, in search of more elevators. The Vulcans
acted in a very unvulcan-like manner and the gesture that T’Kate made
at them did not mean “Live Long and Prosper”.
A very thin, very agitated young man confronted them. He was furious and
his high pitched voice rose several octaves. “This is completely
unacceptable. Don’t you realize that I am to give a panel on Warp Drive
Propulsion in less than 15 minutes!!”
“Well, unless you are giving it here in this alcove, I suggest you find
another route to wherever you’re going.” Captain Stanley was not
about to be intimidated by a geeky little guy with bad skin, wearing a T-Shirt
that declared that Reality was for those who couldn’t deal with Science
Fiction.
The highly incensed young man turned and stormed away disappearing into the
crowd. This was going to be a long shift.
Finally they were joined by the other four members of the crew. Roy looked
very angry and even the captain did not dare ask him about the green lipstick
smear on his cheek. Gage was trying so hard not to laugh that he looked like
he’d explode at any minute. Marco looked somewhat bewildered. Chet was
reading a flyer that someone had thrust into his hand. “You know this
kind of looks like fun,” he commented.
“Glad you think so, Kelly, because it looks like we have some stair
climbing to do. A lot of stair climbing. Come on, the stairs are this
way.” Captain Stanley pushed his way out into the crowd once more. Despite
the weird attire of the crowd, he was still tall enough to see over the heads
of most of them. He saw a sign that said STAIRS on the other side of the
front desk. The others followed him one by one.
“Beam me up, Scotty,” Chet implored quietly as he joined the
others.
All of the elevators were stuck above the eighth floor so they had a long
climb ahead of them. They made it up the first two flights without running
into anyone else. They got bogged down on the third flight by a crowd of
slow-moving women in Star Fleet uniforms who were in the middle of a hot
and heavy discussion about whether William Shatner’s face or his rear
end was his best feature. The firemen valiantly made their way through the
group and passed them as they continued up the stairs.
At floor five they ran into more trouble. A tall man, dressed in what appeared
to be black leather armor and high platform boots stepped in front of them
as they tried to mount this staircase. He had long, black hair and a beard.
He carried what looked like some sort of ax on steroids with an odd blade
on each end. He growled menacingly at them in a language Captain Stanley
did not understand. From force of habit, they looked to Marco for translation
but he just shrugged.
“ bljeghbe’ chung vaj blHegh [Surrender or
die!]” he repeated angrily. He took a step toward them in a
threatening manner.
They all instinctively stepped back. All but Stoker who carried a more
traditional Fire Department issue ax. He stepped to the front of the line.
He held his own ax up then narrowed his eyes at the man then said in a cold,
almost evil, voice. “ bljatlh ‘e’ ylmev! qaw, qaStaHvlS wa’
ram loS SaD Hugh SljlaH getbogh loD![Shut up! Remember,
a running man can cut four thousand throats in a single
night!]”
“ jlyaj,[I understand,]” the man said,
suddenly breaking into a smile. He stepped aside motioning that they could
now pass.
Stoker stood his ground as the others moved by the Klingon. When they had
safely passed he, too, mounted the stairs.
“ batlh Daqawlu’taH,[You will be remembered
with honor,]” the Klingon called after Stoker.
Stoker did not answer. A man who wasted no words in English, wasted even
fewer in Klingonese.
They encountered no more life-threatening aliens in the stairwell and eventually
made it to the eighth floor. From the indication over the elevator door the
car was stuck just above this floor.
“Okay, Chet,” Captain Stanley said, “pry the doors open and
let’s see what’s going on here.”
Chet carried his pry bar up to the doors. He was able to ease the tip into
the seem between the doors and ease it opened.
“Careful now,” Stanley warned, not wanting anyone to fall into
the elevator shaft.
Once the doors were open, the elevator itself was visible. The floor of the
elevator was about 3 feet in the air but the occupants could be lifted down
to freedom fairly easily. The firemen set about doing this. It was no easy
task as we Trekkies are not tiny people.
Soon the elevator was empty and Chet released the doors so that they would
close and no one would be able to fall down the shaft.
“On up to the 10th floor,” the Captain commanded, leading the way
back to the staircase.
The next three elevators were also lined up closely enough with nearby floors
to allow the occupants to climb to freedom with very little difficulty. On
the fifteenth floor, they got a bit of a surprise when they pried the doors
open. This car was only lined up with the opening by about a foot but it
was enough space for thousands of tribbles to rain down on them. Once they
had scraped them all out of the elevator, they saw no sign of human (or alien)
habitation.
“Must be somebody’s idea of a joke,” Captain Stanley decided.
“Chet, put those fool things down!”
Chet had picked up a couple of tribbles. He surreptitiously held one out
toward Stoker, who glared at him. The stuffed tribble did not react to Stoker
so Chet was reasonably sure that he was really a human and not a Klingon
in disguise. Chet had not watched every single episode of Star Trek for nothing.
He still found it odd that a guy who never talked in English did all that
yakking in Klingon.
The last elevator car appeared to be stuck just under the 19th floor. They
went back to the stairwell. Two Vulcans, and Andorian and three separate
and equally disgruntled Harry Mudds were making their way down the stairs
as the firemen went up. On the 16th floor landing two teenagers in Star Fleet
uniforms were nearly coming to blows as each one cast aspersions on the other
kid’s favorite character.
“I’d like to see Snotty pull off something like that!” one
screeched.
“Captain Jerk would be no place without Scotty. The brain power of an
Engineer dwarfs that of the entire bridge crew!” the other returned
defiantly.
They saw Stoker nod in agreement but no one interfered in the argument, they
just walked around them and continued up the stairs. More people in dressed
in T-shirts with odd slogans made their way down the stairs. Several of them
seemed to Grok Spock while others advertised the health benefits of Saurian
Brandy or Romulan Ale. A few claimed to be members of the Star Fleet Academy
or the Vulcan Science Institute. Most of the males seemed to believe that
personal hygiene should be avoided. Close encounters with them in the staircase
caused the firemen to re-think leaving their SCBAs down on the rig. It was
too far to walk back for them, so they continued on to the 19th floor.
As they stepped out of the landing on the 19th floor, they were stopped by
four large men wearing Red Star Fleet shirts. One, who was also wearing the
pointed ears of a Vulcan, stepped forward. “By order of Admiral Bellingham
of Star Fleet, I can allow you to go no farther,” he said firmly.
Captain Stanley could see past the four costumed characters and he did not
like what he saw. The elevator doors had already been opened. A man in beige
work clothes and a tool belt leaned against the wall. Another man, who appeared
to be wearing a Star Fleet uniform, albeit much fancier than others they
had seen, was squatting down in front of the opened doors talking into the
dark abyss of the elevator shaft. “That’s it, breathe into that
paper bag. Nice and easy now....”
Stanley was sure that the fool would fall into the elevator shaft. He tried
to push passed the security team but they blocked him.
“MOVE, YOU TWITS!”
Suddenly the man in front of the shaft looked up. “It’s okay, team.
Let them pass,” he said hurriedly.
The crew from Station 51 were shocked at the true identity of the admiral.
“Let them pass,” he repeated. “A captain in the Fire Department
outranks a Star Fleet Admiral,” he assured them, grinning nervously
at Captain Stanley.
“Bellingham?!” the Captain said with disbelief.
“I’m on vacation,” Bellingham grinned. “Besides, after
working with Brice, dealing with aliens is a breeze.”
“Admiral Bellingham,” Chet laughed. “What qualifies you to
be an admiral?”
“I’ll have you know, I command my own starship,” Bellingham
defended himself. Besides, working one day in three with the closest thing
to a real Vulcan that he ever met, gave him fodder for the rich fantasy life
he lived in the Star Trek Fan Universe. He was even scheduled to dine with
Ambassador Sarak himself at the banquet later this evening.
“Big deal. Stoker speaks Klingon,” Chet bragged.
“Will you two knock it off!!!” Captain Stanley was not about to
lose control at this late stage of the game. “What’s going on
here?”
“Well, the Princess of Rigel Seven here -- er I mean, this girl was
hyperventilating so I have her breathing into a paper bag. She seems better
now. They have been trapped in this car for almost two hours and they are
beginning to get hungry. I got the building maintenance guy, here, to open
the doors and I even popped the escape hatch but I don’t think it’ll
be too useful in terms of evacuation. It’s pretty -- er small for this
crowd, if ya get my drift. Not sure I could get in there myself. Gage could,
though,” Bellingham reported.
Soon Johnny was crawling through the escape hatch into the stuck elevator.
Roy handed the gear down to him. Johnny took the vitals of the Princess of
Rigel Seven and providing that Rigellians were the same as humans, she was
fine.
“I think they're all okay,” Johnny hollered up to Roy who was still
on the roof of the elevator. “I think they could get out the hatch.
It’s bigger than it looks.”
“If they could reach it,” Roy agreed. “Cap, we could use a
step ladder.”
The maintenance man provided one and Roy guided it through the escape hatch
to Johnny. Roy watched as Johnny tried desperately to get one of the Vulcan
women to climb onto it. He was not having much luck. “He needs some
help down there, Cap,” Roy said, preparing to climb into the elevator
himself.
“No, Roy, let Chet go. If he and Bellingham don’t quit bickering
I’m going to take the ax to one of them and Bellingham is on
vacation.”
“No problem, Cap, I’m thin enough to fit through the hatch
even if Admiral Blimpingham isn’t,” Chet declared defiantly. He
stepped onto the roof of the elevator and lowered himself down into the
car.
It took some convincing, but Chet seemed to be able to communicate with these
weirdos a little so Johnny let him take over. Soon they were discussing things
like Catspaw and Spock’s Brain as Chet steered each one to the ladder
until only the Princess remained. No amount of argument could persuade her
until Chet remarked that Leonard Nimoy would be speaking in a few minutes.
She all but ran up the ladder with Johnny’s BP cuff still wrapped around
her arm.
“Roy, get that away from her,” Johnny called up to him frantically.
He did not want to explain how he had lost an expensive piece of medical
equipment someplace in the final frontier.
Roy stepped off of the elevator roof behind the Princess. “Ah, Miss,”
he called.
She paid no attention to him as she left the elevator alcove. He followed
her, as did Bellingham, who thought it wise for a Star Fleet Admiral to escape
the wrath of a Fire Department Captain.
The Princess continued on down the hallway and turned into one of the public
Ladies’ Rooms. Roy and Bellingham both stopped in their tracks.
“How ‘bout it, Roy, you ready to boldly go, where no man has gone
before?” Bellingham laughed.
Roy glared at him. “She has to come out some time,” Roy decided,
leaning against the wall to wait.
Johnny was angrily slamming things back into the cases that he had been carrying.
Chet leaned on the ladder gazing off into thin air. “Suppose you could
give me a hand here?”
“Oh sure thing, Johnny,” Chet said. Then he began to clap. Johnny
suddenly looked a little dangerous so Chet grabbed one of the plastic cases
and headed up the ladder. He could hear Johnny grumbling behind him. It
didn’t sound like English. Chet wondered if Gage spoke Klingon too.
Once they were both out of the elevator Roy returned with Johnny’s BP
cuff. The Princess had left it in the Ladies’ Room forcing Roy to go
in and retrieve it. Bellingham was supposed to be standing guard outside
but when Roy emerged from the Ladies Room, the admiral was nowhere in sight.
He deserved Brice for a partner!
Just then the door to one of the rooms opened. Several people emerged from
it. They were all in awe of the man in the center of the small crowd as they
approached the elevators.
“Sorry, they seem to be out of order.” Captain Stanley did not
want to have to rescue any more victims.
“Do they? What seems to be the problem?” the man asked pleasantly.
He stepped up to the small panel that the maintenance man had opened in the
wall to open the doors for Bellingham. He looked in at the myriad of wires
that ran beside the control panel. “Oh well, here’s your
problem.” He took a small pocket knife out of his pocket and soon had
two wires removed and re-attached. “That should do it.”
He pressed the call button and the elevator moved into place in front of
the doors.
“Mr Doohan, you’re wonderful,” one of the woman in the crowd
said in an adoring voice as the small entourage boarded the elevator.
“Now that’s an Engineer,” Mike Stoker’s tone nearly
matched the woman’s.
“He a building engineer?” the maintenance man asked.
“He’s a starship engineer,” Chet said with equal
admiration. “And the only guy in the whole history of the show to actually
survive wearing a red shirt.”
Captain Stanley just shook his head and summoned another elevator. “Come
on, I’ve had enough of the Twilight Zone. Let’s get out of
here.”
“Not the Twilight Zone, Cap, this is Star Trek,” Chet explained.
“No, Chet, this is Los Angeles which is plenty spacy enough for me.
I don’t need green and blue aliens, thank you very much.”
“Right, Cap,” Johnny agreed. “Let’s go back to the real
world.”
They followed their captain onto the next elevator. Chet reached into his
pocket. He was sure he had only snatched one tribble. Why were there three
there now?