by James Blish
Scott disengaged the magnetic probe. Then his head fell on the hot metal of the tube. "You might at least say thank you, Mr. Spock."
Spock was genuinely astounded. "For what purpose, Mr. Scott? What is it in you that requires an overwhelming display of emotion in a situation such as this? Two men pursue their only reasonable course—and you clearly seem to feel something more is necessary. What?"
"Never mind," Scott said wearily. I'm sorry I brought it up."
The three stranded Enterprise men were nearing the big, red rock. And the readings on Sulu's tricorder still showed off the scale beyond their peak. Kirk approached the rock. "That closed door," he said, "must be right here."
They all shoved their shoulders against the rock. It didn't move. Panting, McCoy said, "If that's a closed door, it intends to stay closed."
The rock of itself slid to one side. It revealed a door that suddenly telescoped and drew upward. They stood in silence for a moment, peering inward.
"You think it's an invitation to go in?" McCoy said.
"If it is," Sulu said, "it's one that doesn't exactly relax me."
"The elevator door on the Enterprise bridge would be certainly preferable," Kirk agreed. "But whatever civilization exists on this planet is in there. And without the ship, gentlemen, in there is our sole source of food and water."
Following his lead, they cautiously moved through the doorway. It gave onto a large chamber. Athwart its entrance was a huge translucent cube. Pulsing in a thousand colors, lights flashed across its surfaces. "What is it?" Kirk said. "Does it house the brain that operates this place?" They were studying the cube when, between it and them, the woman appeared, wearing that same look of sadness. She moved toward them slowly.
"Tell us who you are for," Kirk said.
She didn't answer; but her arm rose and her pace increased.
"Form a circle," Kirk said. "Keep moving."
The woman halted. "You see," Kirk said, "you might as well tell us who you're for." He paused. "On the other hand, don't bother. You are still for Kirk."
"I am for James Kirk," she said.
McCoy and Sulu drew together in front of him as he said, "But James Kirk is not for you."
"Let me touch you-—I beg it," she said. "It is my existence."
"It is my death," he said.
Her voice was very gentle. "I do not kill," she said.
"No? We have seen the results of your touch."
"But you are my match, James Kirk. I must touch you. Then I will live as your match even to the structure of your cells—the arrangement of chromosomes. I need you."
"That is how you kill. You will never reach me." Even as he spoke, he saw the second woman. Silently, unnoticed, she was moving toward them, arms outstretched. "Watch out!" he shouted.
"I am for McCoy," said the second woman.
Kirk jumped in front of Bones. "They are replicas!" he cried. "The computer there has programmed replicas!"
"They match our chromosome patterns after they touch us!" McCoy shouted.
A third woman, identical in beauty and clothing, slipped into view. "I am for Sulu," she said.
Aghast, the Enterprise men stared at each other. "Captain! We can no longer protect each other!"
McCoy said, "We could each make a rush at the other's killer!"
"It's worth a try," Kirk said.
Unhearing, dreamy, their arms extended, the trio of women were nearing them, closing in, closer and closer. Beside them, the air suddenly gathered into shimmer. Armed with phasers, Spock and an Enterprise security guard materialized swiftly. They swung their weapons around to cover the women.
"No, Spock!" Kirk yelled. "That cubed computer-destroy it!"
The phasers' beams struck the pulsing cube. There was a blast of iridescent light—and the women vanished. McCoy drew a great gasping sigh of incredulous relief. Kirk turned to Spock. "Mr. Spock, it is an understatement to say I am pleased to see you. I thought you and the Enterprise had been destroyed."
Spock holstered his phaser. "I had the same misgivings about you, Captain. We got back close enough to this planet to pick up your life form readings only a moment ago."
"Got back from where, Mr. Spock?"
But Spock was examining the broken cube with obvious admiration. "From where this brain had the power to send the ship . . . a thousand light years across the galaxy. What a magnificent culture this is."
"Was, Mr. Spock. Its defenses were run by computer."
Spock nodded. "I surmised that, Captain. Its moves were all immensely logical. But what people created it? Are there any representatives of them?"
"There were replicas of one of them. But now the power to reproduce them has been destroyed. Your phasers—" He stopped. On the blank wall of the chamber Losira's face was gradually forming. The lovely lips opened. "My fellow Kalandans, I greet you."
She went on. "A disease is decimating us. Beware of it. I regret giving you only this recorded warning—but we who have guarded this outpost for you may be dead by the time you hear it."
The voice faded. After a moment it resumed. "In creating this planet, we also created a deadly organism. I have awaited the regular supply ship from our home star with medical assistance, but I am now sickening with the virus myself. I shall set the outpost's controls on automatic. They will defend you against all enemies except the disease. My fellow Kalandans, I wish you well."
"She is wishing the dead well," McCoy said.
Spock had returned to the blasted computer. "It must have projected replicas of the only being available—Losira."
Kirk's eyes were on the dissolving image. "She was—beautiful," he said.
Spock shook his head. "Beauty is transitory, Captain. She was, however, loyal and highly intelligent."
The image on the wall had gone. Kirk opened his communicator. "Kirk to Enterprise. Five of us to beam up. By the way, Mr. Spock, I don't agree with you."
"Indeed, Captain?"
In Kirk's mind was the remembered sound of a voice like music, of a dark and lonely loveliness waiting in vain for the salvation of her people. "Beauty survives, Mr. Spock. It survives in the memory of those who beheld it."
Spock stared at him. As they dematerialized, there was a sad little smile on Kirk's lips.
OBSESSION
(Art Wallace)
* * *
The ore was peculiar-looking, a harsh purple-black. Kirk struck it with a rock; but apart from its responsive clanging sound, it showed no trace of the blow. As he tossed the rock aside, he said, "Fantastic! It must be twenty times as hard as steel even in its raw state!"
Spock, his tricorder focused on the ore, said, "To be exact, Captain, 21.4 times as hard as the finest manganese steel."
Kirk opened his communicator. "Scotty? You can mark this vein of ore as confirmed. Inform Starfleet I recommend they dispatch a survey vessel to this planet immediately." As he spoke, a puff of white vapor drifted up over the rock matrix of the ore—a whisp of vapor hidden from the Enterprise men both by the rock's jutting and obscuring vegetation.
Scott said, "Acknowledged, Captain. They'll send a vessel fast enough for this rich a find."
Spock had pulled his phaser. "We won't be able to break it. I'll shoot off a sample."
Kirk didn't answer. He had stiffened abruptly, frowning, sniffing the air around him, his face strained like that of a man whose past had suddenly shouldered out his present. A shard of rock, grape-purple with the ore, had broken off; and the white vapor, as though guided by some protective intelligence, swiftly withdrew behind the big rock's shelter. As Spock rose from retrieving the ore sample, Kirk spoke. "Notice it?" he said. "A sweetish odor—a smell like honey? I wonder. It was years ago on a different planet . . . a 'thing' with an odor like that."
Some indefinable appeal in his voice moved Spock to say reassuringly, "This is the growing season in the hemisphere of this planet. There are doubtless many forms of pollen aromas around, Captain."
But Kirk was not soot
hed. He didn't seem to even have heard. Beckoning to the landing party's security officer, he said, "Lieutenant Rizzo, take two men and make a swing around our perimeter. Scan for any gaseous di-kironium in the atmosphere."
"Di-kironium," Spock observed, "does not exist except in laboratory experiments."
Kirk ignored the comment. "Set phasers on Disruptor-B. If you see any gaseous cloud, fire into it instantly. Make your sweep, Lieutenant."
A beep beeped from the open communicator in his hand; and Scott's voice said, "Ready to beam back aboard, sir?"
"Stand by, Scotty. We're checking something out."
"Sir, the U.S.S. Yorktown is expecting to rendezvous with us in less than eight hours. Doesn't leave us much time."
"Acknowledged. Continue standing by. Kirk out."
Spock, scanning the ore sample, spoke, his voice flat with awe. "Purity about eighty-five percent, Captain. With enough of this, they'll be building Starships with twice our warp capacity."
But Kirk was sniffing the air again. "Gone," he said. "It's gone now. I could have been wrong. The last time I caught that odor was about twelve years ago." He looked away to where the security officer and his men were quartering the area. Rizzo, standing near a small hillock, was bent over his tricorder. It had suddenly registered di-kironium on the air. Puzzling over it, he didn't see the cloud of white vapor encroaching on them from behind the hillock. "But that isn't possible," Rizzo muttered to himself. "Nothing can do that."
The vaporous cloud, however, seemed to obey laws of its own. One moment it had been wispy, diaphonous; but in the next it had thickened to a dense fog, moving suddenly and swiftly, emitting a humming creature sound.
The scouting party whirled as one man. The coiling colors that had appeared in the cloud reached out a tentacle of green which touched the nearest security man. He grabbed at his throat and fell to the ground. As the second security man gagged, Rizzo pulled his phaser. Where to direct his fire? Into the center of the cloud? Where? He hesitated—and Kirk's communicator beeped.
"Captain . . . cloud," Rizzo choked. "A strange cloud."
Tire your phasers at its center!" Kirk shouted.
"Sir, we—help!"
"Spock, with me!" yelled Kirk. He raced toward the hillock, his phaser drawn.
But the gaseous cloud was gone. Rizzo lay face down on the grass, his communicator still clutched in his hand. The bodies of his men lay near by. Kirk glanced around before he hurried to Rizzo. The officer was very pale. But where Rizzo's flesh was pale, the bodies of his men were bone-white. Kirk lifted his head. "Dead," he said. "And we'll find every red corpuscle has been drained from their blood."
"At least Rizzo's alive," Spock said. "As you were saying—you suspect what it was, Captain?"
Kirk had taken out his communicator. He nodded. "A 'thing'. . . something that can't possibly exist. Yet which does exist." He flipped the communicator open. "Captain to Enterprise. Lock in on us, Scotty! Medical emergency!"
He was in Sickbay. It didn't offer much room to pace. So he stood still while Christine Chapel handed the cartridge of tapes to Bones.
"The autopsy reports, Doctor."
"Thank you."
Kirk extended a hand to Christine's arm. "Nurse, how is Lieutenant Rizzo?"
"Still unconscious, Captain."
"Transfusions?" he said.
"Continuing as rapidly as possible, sir. Blood count still less than sixty percent of normal."
Kirk glanced at McCoy. But Bones was still deep in the autopsy reports. Kirk closed his eyes, running a hand over his forehead. Then he crossed to a communicator panel equipped with a small viewing screen.
"Kirk to bridge."
The voice was Spock's. "Ready to leave orbit, sir."
"Hold our position."
The image of Spock was supplanted by Scott's. "Cutting in, if I may, sir. The Yorktown's expecting to rendezvous with us in less than seven hours."
The heat of sudden rage engulfed Kirk. "Then inform them we may be late!"
McCoy turned from his desk. "Jim, the Yorktown's ship surgeon will want to know how late. The vaccines he's transfering to us are highly perishable."
Spock reappeared on the screen. "Sir, those medical supplies are badly needed on planet Theta Seven. They're expecting us to get them there on time."
I am hounded, Kirk thought. He looked from Spock back to McCoy. "Gentlemen," he said, "we are staying here in orbit until I learn more about those deaths. I am quite aware this may cost lives on planet Theta Seven. What lives are lost are my responsibility. Captain out." He switched off the screen, and addressed McCoy. "Autopsy findings?"
"You saw their color," McCoy said. "There wasn't a red corpuscle left in those bodies."
"Cuts? Incisions? Marks of any kind?"
"Not a one. What happened is medically impossible."
Kirk became conscious of a vast impatience with the human race. "I suggest," he said coldly, "that you check our record tapes for similar occurrences in the past before you speak of medical 'impossibilities'. I have in mind the experience of the U.S.S. Farragut. Twelve years ago it listed casualties from exactly the same impossible medical causes."
McCoy was eyeing him speculatively. "Thank you, Captain," he said tonelessly. "I'll check those tapes immediately."
"Yes, do," Kirk said. "But before you do, can you bring Lieutenant Rizzo back to consciousness for a moment?"
"Yes, I think so but—"
"Will it hurt him if you do?"
"In his condition it won't make much difference."
Then bring him out of it," Kirk said. "I must ask him a question."
As they approached Rizzo's bed, Nurse Chapel was removing a small black box that had been strapped to his arm. "Transfusions completed, Doctor," she said. "Pulse and respiration still far from normal."
"Give him one cc. of cordrazine."
The nurse stared. Then picking up a hypodermic, she adjusted it. As it hissed against Rizzo's arm, Kirk's hands tightened on the bed bar until his knuckles whitened. On the pillow he saw the head move slightly. Kirk leaned in over Rizzo. "Lieutenant, this is the Captain. Can you hear me? Do you remember what happened to you?"
The eyelids fluttered. "Remember . . . I'm cold," Rizzo whispered. "So . . . cold."
Kirk pressed on. "Rizzo, you were attacked by something. When it happened, did you notice an odor of any kind?" His hands were shaking on the bed bar. He leaned in closer. "Rizzo, remember. A sickly sweet odor. Did you smell it?"
Horror filled the eyes. "Yes, sir . . . the smell . . . strange . . . like . . . like being smothered in honey."
Kirk exhaled a deep, quivering breath. "And—did you feel a—a presence? An intelligence?"
The head moved in assent. "It . . . it wanted strength from us. Yes, I felt it sucking. It was there."
McCoy moved in. "He's asleep. We can't risk another shot, Captain."
"He told me what I wanted to know."
"I wouldn't depend on his answers. In his half-conscious state, he could be dreaming, saying what he thought you wanted to hear."
Kirk straightened. "Check those record tapes, Doctor. I'll want your analysis of them as quickly as possible."
He left; Christine Chapel turned a puzzled face to McCoy. "What's the matter with the Captain, sir? I've never seen him like this."
"I intend to find out," McCoy said. "If I'm wanted, I'll be in the medical library."
On the bridge, Uhura greeted Kirk with a message from Starfleet. To her astonishment, he brushed it aside with a "Later, Lieutenant. Now have the security duty officer report to me here and at once." He crossed to Spock who said, "Continuing scanning, sir. Still no readings of life forms on the planet surface."
"Then, Mr. Spock, let's assume that it's something so totally different that our sensors would fail to identify it as a life form."
"You've mentioned—di-kironium, Captain."
"A rare element, Mr. Spock. Suppose a life form were composed of it, a strange, gaseous creatu
re."
"There is no trace of di-kironium on the planet surface or in the atmosphere. I've scanned for the element, sir."
"Suppose it were able to camouflage itself?"
"Captain, if it were composed of di-kironium, lead, gold, hydrogen—whatever—our sensors would pinpoint it."
"Let's still assume I'm right."
"An illogical assumption, Captain. There is no way to camouflage a given chemical element from a sensor scan."
"No way? Let's further assume it's intelligent and knows we're looking for it."
"Captain, to hide from a sensor scan, it would have to be able to change its molecular structure."
Kirk stared at him. "Like gold changing itself to lead or wood to ivory. Mr. Spock, you've just suggested something which never occurred to me. And it answers some questions in a tape record which I think you'll find Dr. McCoy is studying at this very moment."
Spock was on his feet. "Mr. Chekov! Take over on scanner." He was at the bridge elevator door as it hissed open to permit the entrance of the security duty officer. He was a new member of the crew, young, bright-faced, clearly dedicated as only the untried idealism of youth can dedicate itself. He strode to Kirk and saluted. "Ensign David Garrovick reporting, sir."
Kirk turned, startled. "You're the new security officer?"
"Yes, sir."
Kirk hesitated a moment. Then he said, "Was your father—?"
"Yes, sir. But I don't expect any special treatment on that account."
The shock in Kirk's face subsided. Now he snapped, "You'll get none aboard this ship, mister!"
"Yes, sir."
Uhura broke in. "I have a report on Lieutenant Rizzo, Captain. He's dead."
Kirk leaned back in his chair. It had been costly—the discovery of that so-precious purple ore. He turned back to the new security officer when he realized that Garrovick's face was grief-stricken, too.
"Did you know Rizzo?" Kirk said.
"Yes, sir. We were good friends. Graduated the Academy together."
Kirk nodded. "Want a crack at what killed him?"
"Yes, sir."