Dark of the Moon
© 2024 by Walter Reimer and E.O. Costello

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Epilogue


I mentioned Star Trek earlier. The series only lasted about three years, but it was memorable for the issues it explored and for its diverse cast of characters. One of those became sort of a role model for werewolves and now, nearly three years after the show was canceled, I took a cab to meet with her for an interview.

Despite the cancellation, its large and growing following insisted on keeping the series alive. They were so enthusiastic that they’d set up a convention of sorts in New York, at the Statler-Hilton. Called ‘Star Trek Lives,’ the convention was to feature several of the series stars and writers as guests of honor, as well as a costume competition.

I could have walked uptown to get to the hotel, but January in New York is a little raw. A cab was a lot more comfortable.

I took the elevator up and made sure I was at the right room before knocking. “Yes?” came a woman’s voice.

“Miss Daniels?”

“Yes?”

“Peter Walshe, with WNEW.”

“One moment, please.” There was a pause, and I heard the door unlock before it opened partway. “Hi!” the actress said. She was a tall and leggy brunette, her hair straight and shoulder-length, and she was wearing a modest dark green skirt and a lighter green blouse. She extended a hand and I took it. “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Walshe.”

“Likewise, Ma’am, and please call me Peter.”

“Lisa.” She stepped aside and waved me into the hotel room before closing the door. “Have a seat. The convention’s not starting till tomorrow,” and she sat down in a chair facing me, the chair’s back draped with a jacket that matched her skirt. She tapped a small stack of 8x10 glossy photographs of herself, Shifted, in the red uniform and black trousers she had worn during the series. “What did you want to talk about?”

“Just a few questions,” I said, “at least at first. I’ll be interviewing some of the fans over the course of the convention.”

“All right. So, ask away.”

“Let’s start with telling me a few things about yourself.” I had my notepad and pencil out.

“I’m from Nebraska, Omaha to be exact,” she said. “Dad’s a lawyer, Mom’s a housewife. I wanted to try a career in acting when I was still in high school, but it took some convincing on my part.” She chuckled at the memory. “I did some repertory company shows in the West and Midwest, and when they started casting Star Trek I decided to take a shot.” She gave a rueful grin. “I didn’t get a part, at first.”

“What changed?” I asked.

“Gene was wanting a diverse cast for the main characters, you know, and the part I auditioned for was Lt. Uhura. Nichelle Nichols got that, and more power to her, but Gene went to the head office and argued for including a werewolf. Eventually he wrote me in.” She sat back in her chair. “With a few stipulations.”

“Those were?” I asked, scrawling notes as fast as I could.

She sighed and glanced up at the ceiling. “For starters, it wasn’t a speaking part, and I got paid accordingly. Second, I never had much to do other than sit at my station on the bridge and look fierce. And third, I had to stay Shifted for the entire day.”

“Even when you weren’t being filmed?”

She nodded. “The idea was that ‘You want a werewolf, you’ve got one.’” Miss Daniels shrugged. “The rest of the cast liked me – we got to be a pretty close group by the time the series wrapped up. It was enough to get me a SAG card, so I’m not too torn up about it. The fans, though,” and her smile returned, “the fans have been wonderful.” She plucked one of the photographs from the pile and held it up. “I expect to be signing a lot of these this weekend.”

I grinned. The picture showed a female werewolf, barefooted, in black trousers and a red shirt with a strip of gold braid on the sleeves. She had light gray fur, shading to white at her throat, and she was holding a weapon in an action pose. Her expression was stern, as befitted her role as Lt. Rinurr Grrihan, the ship’s chief of security. “I imagine so,” I said. “Um, this may be a delicate question.”

“Oh?”

“Well, some werewolves might be interested in whether your uniform, and your tail – “

She laughed. “Buttons, or zipper?” I nodded and chuckled with her. “Neither. We used Velcro, and I’m sure a lot of werewolves use it now too.”

I nodded. A Swiss werewolf back during the War wondered why burrs stuck to his fur and his pet dog’s and developed and patented a type of fabric closure based on his research. The name was a mixture of the words velour and crochet, and he started manufacturing it in the late Fifties. The military and the space program used it, too.

“It’s really been a convenience,” she said, sniffing. “I’m sure your wife thinks so. Um, do you mind - ?”

I picked up on her question, and of course she’d spotted Mary’s scent on me. “Go right ahead, please.”

“Thanks,” and she Shifted, moving in her seat as her tail erupted. “I got so used to being in fur – “ She broke off and glanced at the door, ears swiveling. “There’s someone out in the hall.”

“Ah, yeah. That’d be my son Paul,” I said, and she looked at me. “He’s been a huge fan of yours, and practically begged me to tag along. I told him to wait outside.”

She gave a werewolf smile, a slight cresting. “Maybe you should have him come in.”

“Okay.” I left the pad and pencil on the table and went over to the door.

I opened it. “Paul?”

“Yeah, Dad?”

I beckoned. “Come on in,” and I stepped aside as my thirteen-year-old oldest son came in. Paul was wearing trousers, a polo shirt and a sweater. He had my red hair, and his mother’s brown eyes.

He came into the room and his eyes went wide. “Wow, it’s really you!” he exclaimed.

She glanced at me and I shrugged. “He didn’t believe me.”

Daniels chuckled. “Yes, it’s me, in flesh and fur. So, Paul, huh?” My starstruck son nodded. “Are you going to the convention this weekend?”

Paul nodded. “Yeah. I’m really looking forward to it. I’ve seen all the shows, and I was really sad when it ended.”

“So was I,” she nodded. “But I’ll let you in on a secret.” Paul suddenly had all his attention on her. “You mustn’t tell anyone, okay? They’re talking about bringing the series back, but as a cartoon.”

“Wow! That’d be great!” Paul said enthusiastically. “Will you be in it?”

“I hope I am,” Daniels said. “It’d be nice, wouldn’t it?” He grinned and nodded. “Still, they’re talking about it, and there’s lawyers involved, so it could take a while to get it off the ground.”

“If it’s Star Trek,” my son said with feeling, “it’s worth waiting for.”

Still Shifted, Daniels grinned, showing her teeth. “That’s the right attitude to have,” and for a moment she looked around. “Ah! Hang on a minute.” She got up and went over to her handbag and pulled out a marker, then sat down at the table again and pulled a photograph from the pile. “Want an autograph?”

“Sure! That’d be cool,” Paul said.

“Okay! Hmm . . . ‘To Paul: Always keep looking to the stars.’” She looked up to see my son smiling happily, and she signed her name with a flourish. “Here you are, Paul. Be careful with it, though, until it dries. You don’t want to smudge it.”

“I won’t,” my son said, taking the photograph gingerly by the corners. He leaned in to pick up the picture, and Lisa suddenly sniffed.

And sniffed again, before she looked up at me.

I smiled. “His mother.”

“Do tell.”

I nodded. “Hey, Paul.” He looked up at me. “Go ahead and show her.”

“Really?”

“Uh-huh.”

He handed the autograph to me and straightened up – and Shifted.

See, after I got married to Mary, I learned another thing about werewolves. If a werewolf and a human have kids, it’s pretty much a crapshoot which way their body will go. Paul had his first Shift over Christmas vacation last year.

Lisa Daniels looked up, surprised, at my son’s russet fur. “Wow.”

"Yeah. Ever see a redhead werewolf?"




end


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