The Tears of the Singers

by Melinda Snodgrass

  She questioned that statement, but prudently kept her doubts to herself. She didn’t want to fight with Guy, and since she had begun to nag him about rest and food, fighting seemed to have become their major form of communication. She began searching the base of the cliff for a way up to the grottos, and found a place where the rock had slipped and shifted, forming a series of natural steps and handholds. It wasn’t going to be an easy climb, but they wouldn’t need special equipment.

  She went first, carefully testing each foot-and handhold for stability. She was glad Guy was small and light for there were several points where she doubted that the rock would have held under a man of Spock’s or Kirk’s weight. After fifteen minutes of steady climbing she reached the first grotto. She gripped the lip of the ledge, and pulled herself up.

  And found herself face-to-face with a Taygetian adult who lay placidly feeding in the midst of a mound of fish. The blue green scales still gleamed wetly, and sea water puddled about the bodies of the quivering fish. She had become so accustomed to being ignored by the adults that she was startled, and almost lost her grip on the ledge when the creature stopped chewing and lifted its head to regard her out of deep blue eyes.

  “Uhura, could you go up or come down, but please don’t just stay there. My arms are about to break.”

  She quickly boosted herself onto the ledge and, rolling over, reached back for Guy. He accepted her hand, and she could feel his arm shivering with strain as she helped him onto the ledge. His face was bone white except for two hectic spots of color that burned high on his thin cheeks, and a spasm of coughing seized him as he collapsed face down in the grotto. After a few moments the spasm passed, and his breathing eased. The Taygetian continued to watch them until Guy pushed up into a sitting position, then it went placidly back to its meal.

  “Is this what you expected to find?” Uhura asked with a gesture to the fish.

  “Yes.”

  She sat back on her heels, and wrapped her arms around her knees, thoughtfully watching the Taygetian. “Donovan’s been going nuts trying to figure out how the adults maintained themselves when they never left their grottos.”

  “And he really isn’t going to be happy when he hears about this.”

  “You must have some idea how this happens. After all, you made the connection between the cubs’ song and the fish.”

  “I have ideas, but none of them makes any sense. If only the great song weren’t so ragged. It’s like trying to learn a language when only half the words and none of the grammar are available.” He stared silently out at the ocean for several minutes, then nodded. “But this is going to help. At least now I have a direct action that flows out of a song. I’ll just start cross checking to see if any of the phrases and passages in this song reoccur in others.”

  “Do you want to start back down?”

  Maslin peered over the ledge and shivered. “We climbed that?” he said, pointing down the cliff.

  “ ’Fraid so. It did look easier coming up, didn’t it?”

  “Do you suppose if we sit here long enough the action of wind and weather will lower this cliff by two or three hundred feet?”

  Uhura chuckled and reached out for his hand. “We could always call the ship and have them beam us back to camp.”

  “Maybe that’s how the Taygetians get the fish up here, they have transporters hidden beneath the crust of the planet.”

  “You’ve been reading too much fantasy. Our sensors would have picked up that kind of activity.”

  “Must you always be so literal,” he complained, sliding over to her, and lying back with his head in her lap.

  “It’s in my job description,” she said, softly running her fingers through his heavy hair.

  “What would it take to give you a new job description?”

  “I don’t know. How much clout do you have with Star Fleet?”

  “Not near enough, I’m sure.” He paused, and picked up her free hand, twining her fingers through his. “So maybe we ought to find you a new position outside of Star Fleet.”

  An aching lump seemed to settle into the pit of her stomach, and she cast wildly about for some way out of this situation. She wasn’t ready for this conversation. She had no idea what she felt or really wanted, and she didn’t want to be forced to make a choice. They had never spoken of love, and her commitment to Star Fleet was so strong that it would take a very powerful and driving need to pull her away from her chosen career.

  She wanted a ship and a command of her own, and she thought she had a good chance of getting them—but it was going to cost. The price of a starship was ceaseless devotion to work and career. She had seen it with Captain Kirk. However much he might yearn there was only one lady in his life and her name was Enterprise.

  But do I want to become a lesbian? she thought rebelliously. Devoting my life to a mass of circuits and metal that by some ironic quirk of phraseology has been designated a she?

  Or did she want the comfort of home, husband and children? And was it possible she could have both? Or was that a foolish dream placed forever beyond the reach of a woman in Star Fleet?

  She looked down into Guy’s face and found him intently watching her. She touched his lips with the tips of her fingers, and he pressed a soft kiss against the sensitive skin. She realized she was probably reading too much into his statement. Guy was a man who could have—did have—any number of women on a dozen different worlds. He couldn’t possibly be offering her anything more than a casual affair. She had been foolish to immediately begin thinking of long-term commitments and agonizing over career decisions.

  She smiled, and leaned over to kiss him. He reached back to clasp his hands behind her neck and pull her into a far deeper embrace than she had planned. She closed her eyes, savoring the taste and touch of him. Finally he released her.

  “Frankly, my darling, I wouldn’t trust you to find me a new position,” she teased.

  “And why not?”

  “You won’t even take care of yourself. How can I be sure you’d do any better looking out for me?”

  “I don’t need to take care of myself. I have more than enough people nagging me at any given moment,” he grumbled, his face thunderous. He sat up and scooped up a handful of loose crystal flakes, and allowed them to trickle through his fingers.

  “And I’m going to start nagging just as soon as we get back to camp,” she replied placidly. “Dr. McCoy wanted you to rest,” she continued, pulling out her communicator. “I’m sure climbing cliffs was not what he had in mind.”

  “What are you doing?”

  “Calling the ship so they can transport us back to camp.”

  “I am perfectly capable of walking back to camp,” he said stiffly.

  “I’m sure you are, but I don’t want to go back down that cliff.”

  “Why didn’t you have the ship transport us up here in the first place?” he asked suspiciously.

  “Because we had no coordinates. Now they can pick us up on their scanners, and send us back to camp. Those coordinates they have.”

  “Then you’re really not doing this just to baby me?”

  She sighed and shut her communicator before it could signal the ship. She then rested her hands on his shoulders and looked seriously into his face. “Of course I am. You’re not well, Guy, that’s a fact.” She hesitated. “I care for you, that’s another fact. Anything I can do to protect and care for you I’m going to do.” She dropped her hands, and turned away. “Now go ahead and jump down my throat.”

  “Ah, Madam Star Fleet.” He sighed as he wrapped his arms around her body and rested his cheek against her back. “You constantly force me to rise above my own naturally unpleasant nature. Call the ship. And I promise I’ll go to bed like the very best of boys when we get back to camp.” He glanced over his shoulder at the Taygetian who was just finishing its meal. “Are the females of your race as difficult to handle as ours are?” The creature eyed him serenely and, drawing in a great breath, resumed the song
. “Clearly they are,” he said to Uhura. “He is forced to take refuge in art.”

  She flipped open her communicator and gave him a disgusted look. “I’m sure if I compared notes with Kali, and ever managed to communicate with a Taygetian female, we would all agree that it’s the males of any species who cause the problems.”

  Kirk, if he could have heard her, would have totally agreed. After Spock’s report on the hunters Kirk had immediately signaled the Federation requesting that the Taygetians be reclassified as an intelligent life form. He then settled back to wait while the message made its way to Earth and a reply was returned.

  Spock remained on the Enterprise, checking the scanners for malfunctions. He finally had to concur that Lieutenant Mendez was correct. The bizarre readings were the result of some phenomenon on Taygeta, and not mechanical failure. Perplexed, he joined Kirk in the rec room for a game of chess.

  Kirk leaned back in his chair and watched Spock’s slender fingers lift a piece, momentarily caress the figure, then swiftly place it in its new location. He realized, as he listened to Spock’s report, that he had missed his first officer. It wasn’t often that their duties separated them, and he had found the absence of that tall, quiet figure strangely disconcerting. He remembered Edith Keeler’s description of their relationship when Spock had asked her where she thought he belonged. She had replied, at his side, like you’ve always been there and always will be.

  Yes, Kirk thought. That pretty comprehensively covers it. He realized that Spock had concluded his report, and was quietly waiting for some response. He cleared his throat, and straightened somewhat in his chair.

  “So we’re no closer to breaking the Taygetians’ language than we were when we started?”

  “I must regretfully agree with your estimation of the situation. We have learned a great deal about the creatures physiologically, but we are no closer to understanding the reasons behind their strange social structure or the reason for this great song.”

  “Then maybe bringing Maslin was a useless gesture.”

  “No, I cannot agree. I still believe that the music is the key, and Maslin is the person best suited to discover its meaning.” Spock momentarily frowned. “In fact, there was an odd occurrence when the first Taygetian died. Everyone was naturally shocked by the terrible death cry, but Maslin was physically and mentally shaken. Almost as if the music had pulled him into some sort of rapport with the Taygetians. His reaction was very similar to what I’ve seen when a telepath is violently pulled out of contact.”

  “Esper powers aren’t common among my people.”

  “I am aware of this, but Maslin may be one of those rare cases. My primary reason for mentioning this occurrence is that it might indicate the presence of esper powers on the part of the Taygetians. If such is the case perhaps I should try the Vulcan mind meld.”

  “I know such melds are difficult for you, Spock, and I always hate for you to try it on an unknown race. You never know what’s going to happen. Let’s continue the more traditional forms of research until it becomes certain they’re not going to work.”

  “As you wish, Captain.”

  The wall communicator whistled. “Captain Kirk, there’s a message for you from Federation Central.”

  “I’ll take it in my quarters. Coming, Mr. Spock?”

  “I’m very sorry, Captain, but under article 5, section 301 of the Code a race cannot be reclassified without a full investigation by a xenological team. The Enterprise does not carry such a complement, and your request is therefore denied.”

  The fat-faced man on the screen nodded placidly and the screen went dark.

  “And that’s it? After ten hours of waiting that’s all we get?” Kirk said incredulously. “I told them in my message that there had never been an adequate study made of the planet. Why then do we have to have a full investigation to rectify an earlier mistake? How can the man be so stupid?” he demanded, bringing his hand down with a slap on the top of the communicator.

  “Then our hands are tied?”

  “You know me better than that, Spock. Perhaps a little conversation with Mr. Garyson—”

  “Captain,” T’zeela’s voice interrupted him. “A call for you from Commander Kor.”

  “Put it through, Lieutenant.”

  “Kirk, you have some extremely unpleasant members of your race squatting on that planet,” Kor said without preamble.

  “Yes, I know, Commander. Mr. Spock and I were just discussing what to do about them.”

  “Well, while you’ve been talking my wife went off to try and do something. Fortunately my men called me, and I was able to extract her from what could have been a very unpleasant situation. Kali is very upset by the killing of the Taygetians, and she feels it could be dangerous to all of us.”

  “Does she have some evidence to support this theory?”

  Kor looked rueful. “I’ve tried to pin her down, but she just keeps saying it’s a feeling.”

  “Where are you now?”

  “On the planet. I thought it was time I had a firsthand look at these troublesome creatures.”

  “Mr. Spock and I are coming right down. Meet us at our camp, and let’s see what, if anything, we’ve got.”

  “We’ll be there.”

  Maslin was seated at the synthesizer, surrounded by every member of the landing party. There was an agitated hum of conversation, and periodically someone would give a shout of delight and point at something on the synthesizer’s screen.

  “I think we missed something, Spock,” Kirk said as the transporter materialization ceased.

  “Yes,” Spock said shortly.

  “What’s all the fuss?” Kirk called as he jogged over to join the group.

  “Mr. Maslin’s done it!” Yeoman Chou replied, her china-doll face pink with excitement.

  “Well, not by a long stretch,” Maslin said, swinging around on the bench and holding up a hand to forestall the question he could see forming on Kirk’s lips. “All I’ve done is start to see how this musical language fits together. I’m still not able to speak it or understand what’s said to me.”

  “I’m not certain I understand,” Spock said. “If you have ascertained the grammar surely meaning must follow?”

  “Ordinarily I’d agree with you, but there are still these troublesome gaps in the song.”

  “I thought you’d adjusted the machine to take into the account the problem of the sonics?” Kirk asked. He noticed Kor and Kali hovering at the outskirts of the group, listening with interest.

  “I did, and the problem isn’t the sonics. These gaps are totally unnatural. It’s as if I simply cut out sections from a symphony orchestra. You know there’s a bassoon solo that’s supposed to come in at this point, but instead you get nothing because there’s no bassoon to play the passage.”

  “What are you saying?” Kor asked, pushing through the humans.

  “That the problem is the hunters. It’s like somebody went through one of my orchestras with phaser fire, taking out a flute here, two violins, a trumpet. The result is a sound that seems pretty coherent until you start listening closely.”

  “Then I was right,” Kali said, giving Kor a challenging look. “The hunters should have been stopped.”

  “Yes, you were right in theory but wrong in the execution. You do not go hunting for Cxentares cats with a slingshot.” He smiled to lessen the sting of his reprimand, and brushed his thumb along the line of her jaw.

  She was mollified, but only slightly. She threw back her head, and gave her husband a challenging look. “The women have known all along that the hunters were dangerous, and now that we have finally convinced you men, what are you going to do about it? If you are going to continue to dither and hesitate, and discuss the legality of this and the properness of that, then we women will act. Right, Uhura?”

  “Right,” the Bantu woman said with an amused glance at Kirk and Spock.

  Kirk grinned, and said in an undertone to Kor, “I don’t envy you.”r />
  “I enjoy a challenge,” the Klingon responded blandly. Kali glared at him, and his smile broadened at her tiger-cub expression.

  “Well, Commander, since we are clearly about to lose all respect and therefore our ability to command unless we take action—shall we take action?”

  “An excellent suggestion, Captain.”

  “Mr. Ragsdale, you and Mr. Lindenbaum will accompany me to secure the hunters.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Would you care to join us, Commander?”

  “Yes, but I would feel somewhat less outnumbered, and it would seem more of a bipartisan effort, if I could have one of my men join us.”

  “Fine.” Kor stepped aside, and opened his communicator. “How about you, Mr. Spock?”

  “I would prefer to stay here, and study Mr. Maslin’s work. I am fascinated to see how he made this breakthrough.”

  “Intuitive leap,” Maslin said wickedly, knowing it would irritate Spock.

  A few moments later there were the soundless flashes of a Klingon transporter, and an extraordinarily handsome Klingon, but one unknown to the humans, appeared in the camp.

  “Kandi, captain of the Emperor’s Pride,” Kor said briefly. He then introduced the humans. Kandi nodded to the men, and gave the women a devilish grin. He lifted Uhura’s hand, and bestowed a light kiss onto the wrist.

  “I had no notion that human women could be so beautiful.”

  “And I had no notion that Klingon men knew how to flirt,” she said, twisting her hand free and retreating to Maslin’s side. The Klingon pursued her, and leaned nonchalantly on the synthesizer, to Maslin’s immense irritation.

  “Tell me,” he said conversationally, “you don’t happen to have any recent Earth fiction tapes that you would be willing to part with?”

  “Kandi,” Kor said significantly, “we would like to settle this sometime before next week. You can importune people for trashy novels some other time.”

  The younger man sighed. “Perhaps later,” he said to Uhura, and jogged after the other four men who had already started down the beach.

  “This is pleasant,” Maslin said, slipping an arm around Uhura and Chou’s waists, and pulling them down on the bench with him. He then reached out and took Kali’s hand. “Let the he-men go off and duke it out with the badasses. I’ll stay here and entertain the ladies.”