Uhura fitted the receiver onto the large stationary tricorder that would keep a constant record of seismic and climatic conditions, and reached for the sonic connector. Her hand groped futilely across the packing box, and she realized the tool must have rolled into the sand while she worked. Muttering a bit beneath her breath she began to paw through the sand while still trying to keep a grip on the receiver.
There was a sudden and insistent pressure against her left thigh. Startled, she jerked around to look over her shoulder. The receiver tumbled to the ground, and she found herself eye to eye with one of the Taygetian youngsters. The connector was delicately gripped in its mouth. The picture presented was a fairly ludicrous one: the small, screwdriver-like tool protruding from the cub’s smiling mouth, the proud and eager expression in its blue eyes. Uhura chuckled, and sank back on her heels in the sand.
“Why, thank you,” she said cordially, removing the connector from the creature’s mouth. “Are you trying to help?”
The Taygetian hummed and tweeted, its little, round-skulled head bobbing with enthusiasm.
“You probably have no more idea of what I’m saying than I have about your remarks. I hope we can change that soon.”
The cub chirped, then nosed the tricorder.
“Curious about this thing, are you? Well, this is a tricorder,” Uhura explained as she recovered the receiver, and attached it to the body of the device. “It’s a much larger one than we usually use, but it also has a much greater range. It’s going to constantly monitor the environmental conditions of your world so we can get a better idea of how you developed. Now, what do you think of that?”
The cub seemed uninterested in the evolutionary implications of its own development, but very interested in the phaser which rested on Uhura’s hip. The creature reached out with its mobile mouth and tried to slip the weapon from her belt.
“Hey, none of that now. You could get hurt playing with this.” She shook the phaser under the cub’s nose admonishingly.
The Taygetian responded with a long burst of agitated song, and began flopping happily around the woman. Uhura was forcibly reminded of her little sisters, and how they had often tried to entice her into a game of tag on the grass in front of their parents’ home.
Laughing, she tapped the Taygetian on the head. Its fur was exceptionally soft and silky beneath her fingers. Then, bounding up, she began to back hastily away from the creature. The Taygetian seemed to grasp the rules of the game almost immediately for it followed after Uhura, and managed to whirl about and lay part of its back flippers across her boot with a resounding thwack. It then raced away with Uhura pursuing. They continued the game for several more minutes, then the Taygetian plunged into the ocean, and lay floating on its back while gazing impudently at Uhura, who stood balked on the shore.
“If I weren’t in uniform, and if that water weren’t arctic in temperature, I’d come in after you,” she called, shaking her fist at the singer who reposed among the whitecaps. She shook her head, gave a laugh and started back toward camp. It was decidedly warmer than when they had arrived, and Uhura opened her parka, allowing the breeze to cool her. Suddenly her friend was back, flopping along at her side with the water sheeting from its silver white pelt.
Hours later the singer was still with her, pressed up against her leg as she tuned Spock’s lyrette.
“I’m going to get jealous if your little buddy doesn’t make room for me,” Guy called. He was smiling, but there was a hint of grayness in his face, and he moved slowly and stiffly. She forced back her immediate impulse to ask if he were all right, knowing it would only aggravate him.
“You don’t have to worry, he’s just a baby.”
“He, is it? Earlier he was an it.”
She stroked along the Taygetian’s spine, causing him to shiver with pleasure. “He gives off a very definite male feeling.”
“How so?” Maslin asked, dropping to the ground on the other side of her stool.
“Because he’s spoiled and demanding, of course,” she teased, ruffling his black hair.
“Ah lass, now how can you be so hard on the entire sex just because of this one bad example?” Scotty called, pointing at Maslin as he entered the circle formed by their shelters. He grinned at Maslin, who glared at him in mock anger. “What ye need is a little time with a fine and gentle man who’ll treat you with respect.”
“Why, Mr. Scott,” Uhura crooned. “I never knew you were interested.”
“And I never knew if you’d spare me a glance.”
“She won’t,” Guy interjected. “She prefers a man who can speak Basic without hoking it up with an outdated ethnic accent.”
“Hoo hoo,” Uhura murmured, glancing from one man to the other. “Things are getting rough now.”
Maslin grinned up at Scott, whose twinkling eyes belied the frown that creased his forehead. “All right, you Ssasenach, I’ll concede this round to you, but I warn you, I won’t forget.”
“I’m sure of that. You people have the most amazing capacity for nursing a grudge. You’ve been stealing that damn coronation stone for the past six hundred years.”
Scotty gave a modest little cough, and clasped his hands behind his back. “Aye, and the last time was a mere twenty-eight years ago.”
“And you were in on it too,” Uhura said with a laugh. “Scotty, I’m ashamed of you.”
“It was for the honor of Scotland, lass.”
“I wasn’t aware that the Scots had any,” Maslin said sotto voce.
“I heard that.”
“Now don’t get started again,” Uhura said at the same moment.
The rest of the landing party began trickling into camp. They were treated to the same spectacular sunset that had painted the sky and struck prismatic colors from the cliffs the day before. Chou and Donovan prepared the evening meal while the remainder of the party sat chatting around a campfire. Spock sat somewhat removed from the humans, dictating into a recorder. The fire was really unnecessary. The party was well supplied with thermal lanterns and a food processor, but it added to the sense of warmth and closeness to have the fire flickering in the center of the camp. Spock had raised an eyebrow at the illogic of this form of heat generation, but he had not demurred when several of the landing party had taken an hour from their duties to gather driftwood. He had learned, after repeated and sometimes not very successful attempts, not to try and impose his rigid notions of duty and logic on the humans.
After dinner the group sat in a drowsy circle staring somnolently at the leaping flames. Maslin lay with his head pillowed in Uhura’s lap, and her slender fingers ruffled through his hair, straightening and smoothing the dark strands. The young Singer, with a fine show of fickleness, had transferred his affections to Guy, and now lay draped across the composer’s legs.
Guy opened one eye and, reaching up, captured Uhura’s hand and brought it gently to his lips. She smiled down at him and, bending forward, pressed a quick kiss onto his forehead. Aboard ship such an open display of emotion would have been unthinkable, but here on the surface of this silver-lit world Uhura felt less inhibited. The other members of the landing party had tacitly accepted the deepening relationship between her and the composer, and she felt less shy about displaying the affection she felt for this small, intense man.
Spock, who had reclaimed his lyrette from Uhura, struck a soft chord that hung vibrating in the air. His long fingers played over the strings, and Uhura lifted her head, recognizing the introduction to “Beyond Antares,” the song she had written in a moment of loneliness.
Her voice rose, warm and rich in the darkness, and the other people about the fire stirred and stretched, listening appreciatively.
Spock, with the sensitivity of a natural telepath, became increasingly certain that they were under observation. His fingers continued to move smoothly and swiftly across the strings, but he raised his head, and peered intently out into the darkness. His Vulcan sight enabled him to discern the shadowy figure hovering hes
itantly near an outthrust spur of cliff.
Keeping his voice low he said, “Mr. Ragsdale, there is an intruder about thirty yards to our right near the base of the cliff. Maintain a casual attitude, but please apprehend the individual.”
“Yes, sir.” The heavyset security guard rose, stretched and headed toward one of the shelters, yawning as he went.
Uhura had her back to the intruder so she couldn’t turn and look. She felt as if a target had been drawn in the middle of her back, and her shoulders tensed as she sat waiting for the burn of a disruptor. She wondered why the Klingons would send only one person or if there were more lurking in the rocks. As Ragsdale vanished into the darkness she suddenly realized who had to be standing and watching the camp.
“Mr. Spock,” she said quietly. “I think it may be the young Klingon woman. When Guy and I discovered her yesterday we invited her to come to our camp. If she becomes frightened it could upset our truce with the Klingons.”
Spock glanced in the direction where Ragsdale had disappeared. “I rather fear that it is too late to recall Mr. Ragsdale. We shall have to wait upon developments,” he concluded with a wry twist to his mouth.
“I have a better idea,” Guy said, pushing himself to a sitting position. “Why don’t we just ask her to join us before your gorilla has a chance to jump on her?”
Uhura cocked an eyebrow at Spock. “It is logical.”
Spock looked faintly miffed, perhaps that Maslin had found the simpler solution, but he nodded. “Very well, call to her, Lieutenant. She is at least acquainted with you.”
Uhura rose, and looked in the direction of Spock’s gaze. She could see nothing in the darkness, but if the Vulcan said there was a person standing in the shadows of the cliff it was certain there was someone there.”
“Kali?” she called. “Why don’t you come and join us?”
For several moments there was no response, then Uhura became aware of the Klingon as she seemed to coalesce like a figure conjured from wizard’s smoke.
Kali moved cautiously into the fire’s light. She knew she was probably exceeding Kor’s instructions, but she had to confess that she was curious about the humans.
They were all staring at her now, their faces white and blank in the darkness. All but Uhura, whose skin was even darker than a Klingon’s. They seemed strange and alien in the cold darkness of this new world, and all the stories she had heard of human cruelty and treachery came back to haunt her. Her fingers twitched spasmodically near the butt of her disruptor. If any of the humans had moved she would have used it, but they sat quietly at their ease as she approached. She resented their relaxation, for it pointed up her own tension.
But why shouldn’t they be relaxed, she thought resentfully. I am on their territory, and I am one against many.
As she stepped fully into the firelight her eyes flicked quickly about the circle of humans. Everyone except their captain, and a security guard, were present. She had assumed Kirk would return to his ship. She wondered at the guard’s absence.
A tall, slim man with dark hair and gentle blue eyes leaned forward, and lifted a pot from the edge of the fire. “Would you like a cup of coffee?” He wore the badge of security. His companion, a heavyset blond, frowned at his friend’s cordiality.
So, Kali thought, perhaps they are not all so certain about working with the hateful Klingons.
“That is a human beverage?”
“Yes,” the Vulcan replied. “The humans find it pleasant, but it contains large amounts of caffeine which I find objectionable. We Vulcans have no need of such artificial stimulants.”
“So that’s why they’re such a lot of cold fish,” Scotty said, as he delved about in his pack, and withdrew a small flask. “I myself like a bit of stimulant in my stimulant,” he added as he deepened his burr, and splashed a liberal dollop of an amber liquid into his cup of coffee.
Puzzled, Kali glanced from one man to the other. Uhura rose, and touched her lightly on the elbow, indicating a vacant stool.
“I don’t blame you for being confused. You’re listening to another installment of a long and ongoing battle about human versus Vulcan customs. It’s usually our ship’s doctor who carries the standard for humanity, but in his absence Mr. Scott is standing in. Please, won’t you sit down?”
Kali settled gingerly onto the stool. The dark-haired guard handed her a cup of coffee. She sniffed at it suspiciously, took a sip, then nodded. “It’s good.”
“There, you see, Mr. Spock, another race with some taste and sense,” Scotty chortled.
Ragsdale came looming up out of the darkness, shaking his head like a frustrated St. Bernard. “I searched all over those rocks, Mr. Spock,” he called as he lumbered into the circle of light, “and I couldn’t find a thing.”
“The intruder has in fact been located,” Spock said.
“And is in fact a guest,” Maslin added quickly, and Kali relaxed back onto her stool. Apparently the humans were not contemplating imprisoning her. She took another sip of the coffee to cover her nervousness. All conversation had ceased, and the Earthers stared uneasily into the fire or off into the night sky. Their obvious nervousness helped banish hers, and she turned to Uhura.
“I heard you singing. It was very nice.”
“Thank you. It’s something I enjoy doing.”
“Will you do it again?”
“Yes, if you would like.”
“Let me get my violin, and we’ll give the lady a real taste of human music,” Guy said, and pelted off toward his tent. He was back in a moment, and he quickly tuned to Spock’s lyrette. The two humans and the Vulcan conferred briefly, then began a simple but haunting song. It was obvious they were improvising, for no two verses were the same, but it all blended together in a harmonious whole.
Kali wrapped her hands around the mug, enjoying the way it warmed her chilled fingers, and began to relax. The intonations were very different from Klingon music, but she found it pleasant to listen to, and it made her think of that night months ago when she and Kor had gone to a wine garden on Klinzhai, and sung and danced until the three moons had set. Thinking of Kor made her once more aware of her loneliness, and she wondered how things were going aboard ship. Worries about Karsul, the phenomenon, her separation from her husband, began to chase each other through her head, and she lost track of what was happening around her.
“Kali?” someone asked questioningly, and her head snapped up.
“Guess that’s a comment on our abilities,” Maslin said wryly. “We put our listener to sleep.”
“I wasn’t sleeping,” she said hurriedly. “Only thinking.”
“You seem worried,” the dark-haired guard who had given her the coffee said. “Is there anything we can do?” Kali eyed him suspiciously but he seemed sincere, and another of her cherished notions about humans went down in ruins.
“I do not mean to pry,” Scott said. “But it had occurred to me that your presence here might cause trouble for you. You’re not likely to walk into a hornet’s nest when you go back to camp, are you?”
She smiled faintly, and adjusted the golden sash of her rank where it cut across the front of her heavy cape. “No, my position as Kor’s wife gives me certain advantages.”
“I’ve read that a Klingon woman can only enter the service by marriage.” Yeoman Chou asked. “Is that true?”
“Yes, as far as it goes. A woman cannot enter the service unless she has a male sponsor or protector. He may not necessarily be a husband.” Her lips twisted in a wry little smile. “We do not hold the favored position in society that you Earthwomen have.”
“We don’t have a favored position, just an equal one.”
“That, to me, would seem very favorable.”
“How do you gain rank then?” Uhura asked.
“By working hard, doing a good job and by attaching yourself to a man whose star is ascending.”
“And what happens if his star ever descends?” Donovan asked as he tossed another piece of d
riftwood onto the fire.
There was an explosion of sparks, and Kali stared bleakly into the blazing inferno. “You fall with him.”
“Sounds like a hell of a way to run a fleet,” Brentano snorted, and gave her a hostile look.
“I’m sure there are things in your service that could be improved.”
“But you don’t know, do you?” he sneered.
“Watch your mouth, Brentano,” Lindenbaum snapped, starting to rise.
“You want to go a round, buddy boy? Well come on.” Brentano gestured menacingly.
“That will do, Mr. Brentano!” Spook’s voice lashed out, separating the two men, and sending them grumbling back to their places. “I would advise you to remember not only our directive, but the philosophy contained in the IDIC.”
“After all, mister,” Scotty purred quietly, “it’s all that diversity that makes the universe an interesting place.”
Kali glanced down the beach toward the lights of the Klingon camp. “I must return now. Thank you for your hospitality.”
“Come any time you like,” Uhura said.
“I wish I could say the same, but some things are not possible.”
“If the Organians were accurate such things will, in due time, become possible,” Spock replied.
Kali smiled, and held out her hand to the Vulcan. “Would it be treason if I said I hoped so?”
“I would say rather it would be good sense,” Spock replied, lightly touching her hand.
All of the humans, except Brentano, wished her a good night, and Lindenbaum, the blue-eyed, gentle-faced security guard, offered to walk her back to the Klingon camp. She smiled up at him, thinking how young he seemed by comparison to Kor.
“That won’t be necessary. It is only a short distance, and there is nothing to threaten me on this world.” She paused, and surveyed the star-sprinkled sky and the silver ocean booming onto the sand in a deep counterpoint to the Taygetian song. “In fact,” she continued, “I have never been in such a peaceful place before.”
The Tears of the Singers Page 10