“My hero,” Uhura murmured with ironic affection, and brushed back his forelock.
Ragsdale led the way to the hunters’ camp. He chugged along like a human tank, his heavy legs pumping up and down in his eagerness to reach the hunters and settle a few scores with Garyson. Kirk, too, was eager to reach the camp, but for different reasons. The long hours of patient scientific research aboard the Enterprise had been not at all to his liking. His nature craved involvement and action, but on this mission he felt as if he could have gotten lost and nobody would have noticed. This problem with the hunters was something he could handle, and he was grateful for the opportunity.
He looked back over his shoulder, and noticed that Kor and Kandi were holding back somewhat from the humans, and that they were deep in a low-voiced conversation. Not for the first time he wished he could speak Klingonese. The younger Klingon was speaking urgently to Kor who, although he looked thoughtful, kept shaking his head. Kirk now regretted Spock’s absence. With the Vulcan’s tricorder they could have recorded the conversation, and perhaps gained an insight into what was going on aboard the Klingon vessels. Kirk was still convinced that Kor was in some sort of difficulty with his own crew.
He was given no more time to ponder the problem, for Ragsdale stopped, and indicated an outcropping of rock. “The hunters set up camp just past that formation. I’ve scouted around the area a few times, and they didn’t have much of an eye for a defensive position. They ought to be easy to take.”
“Mr. Ragsdale, this isn’t a commando raid. Mr. Garyson may be open to persuasion,” Kirk said, but the security guard spotted the twinkle in the captain’s hazel eyes, and grinned in response.
“If you believe that, sir, I have a sweet piece of land for sale on Tumbolt V, the pleasure spot of the galaxy.”
“Thank you, mister, I’ll pass on that offer.” Kirk turned and looked at Kor. “Well, shall we go find out how unpleasant Mr. Garyson and his crew intend to be?”
“I will be right behind you, Kirk. They gave insult to my wife, and for that they must pay. I did not punish them earlier for I thought you might object to such treatment of Federation citizens. Now that I know you don’t mind it will be a pleasure to teach them manners.”
“Don’t get too carried away,” Kirk warned as they resumed their progress. “I don’t want anyone hurt if it’s at all possible, so all weapons are to be placed on stun.”
They were lucky enough to find all five of the gem hunters present in camp. The men were gathered around a heating unit drinking coffee, and tossing crystal tears to one another for inspection. They looked up as the party from the Enterprise appeared on the outskirts of the camp. Kirk gave a signal, and everyone quickly fanned out. An ugly frown creased Garyson’s face when he recognized Kor.
“What the hell is this?” he demanded, rising to his feet.
Kirk thought he had never seen such an unprepossessing group of people in his entire life. Everyone looked as if he hadn’t changed clothes in several years, and one man had dirty blond hair that hung in greasy, ropy strands about his face. “Just a friendly visit to try and convince you that the hunting has to stop,” Kirk said agreeably. He stepped forward to face the burly leader of the hunters.
“And who the hell are you?”
“Captain James T. Kirk of the starship Enterprise.”
Garyson rocked back on his heels, and stared contemptuously down his nose at the captain. “So, another little government toady. Well, I’ll tell you what I told your pointy-eared first officer: Until you produce a directive from the Federation stating that these creatures are intelligent I’m gonna keep on doin’ just what I’ve been doin’, because I’ve got a piece of paper that says I can.” He glanced about at his companions, who murmured agreement and looked approving.
Kirk lost his genial smile, and stared coldly up at the other man. “And I’ve got the firepower of a starship, and the people aboard her, that say you can’t. Care to up that ante?”
“You’ve got no legal right, Kirk.”
“Maybe not, but representatives of Star Fleet have a right to make on-the-spot decisions regarding the treatment of alien creatures even if such decision is contrary to a Federation ruling. You are free to enter a complaint, but it won’t be settled until we return either to Earth or a star base, and in the meantime—what I say goes.”
“Now, that sort of depends, doesn’t it, Kirk?” Garyson drawled, stepping back a few feet. “On whether we decide to listen. Mehmet!” he suddenly shouted, and several things happened simultaneously. The four other hunters bolted in all directions, and Lindenbaum gave a moan and collapsed to the ground clutching at a knife that protruded from his upper thigh.
The lean, swarthy man who had thrown the knife went crashing to the ground near the edge of the camp as Kor’s stun blast from his disruptor caught him neatly between the shoulderblades. Ragsdale let out a bellow of rage, and went charging like a maddened bull after the man with the dirty dreadlocks.
Kirk knelt next to Lindenbaum, and checked the leg. “I’m okay, sir,” the security guard forced from between white lips. “It’s minor. Go on and catch the others.”
Kirk looked around, and saw Garyson just vanishing behind a large rock. He leaped up and started in pursuit, only to be arrested by a flash of purest blue among the crystal grains of sand. Unable to stop himself, he knelt, and lifted the tear. It shone like living blue fire in his hand, its many facets seeming to capture and throw back a shifting view of eternity. He felt lost in the mystery of the stone. Closing his hand over the gem, he placed it carefully in a pocket.
Leaping to his feet he again set off in pursuit of Garyson. He was furious with himself for the foolish delay over the stone, but he had been unable to resist the lure of its sapphire beauty. He only hoped that the two Klingons could handle the remaining hunters while he captured their leader. He needn’t have worried. As he raced along the base of the cliff he passed Kandi, circling one of the downed hunters and taunting him to get up. When the man did, the Klingon neatly knocked him to the ground again. This happened twice more before they were lost to sight behind the rocks.
Kirk trotted steadily along the cliff, following the deep, irregular footprints left by Garyson as he ran through the sand. Suddenly the footprints vanished. Kirk stopped and made a slow circuit of the surrounding area, looking for any place where the man might have branched off in a new direction. There was no indication that Garyson had tried to double back, or headed down toward the water’s edge, so only one option remained. Kirk turned to face the cliff just as a large, jagged piece of crystalline rock went rushing past his head.
He jerked back, but the missile still managed to hit his shoulder with a glancing blow, numbing the left arm from his shoulder to his fingertips. Before he could recover, Garyson was upon him. The larger man slammed feet first into his chest and sent him crashing to the ground. The breath was driven from his body in a massive whoosh, and Kirk had a feeling that if he removed his shirt he would have three-inch-deep footprints on his sternum. Fortunately he was wearing a heavy parka which absorbed some of the blow or he might have had his chest crushed.
Garyson reached out and gripped him by the throat, and Kirk realized that he didn’t have any more time for recovery or inane thoughts. If he were going to survive he would have to start reacting. His body seemed to howl in protest, but he managed to bring up his knees and feet, and with a hard thrust sent Garyson flying over his head.
Kirk staggered to his feet, and walked right into a piledriver blow that sent him reeling backward. He cautiously worked his jaw. Nothing seemed to be broken, but several teeth were decidedly loose, and there was the sharp, coppery taste of blood on his tongue. He was disgusted with his poor performance thus far, and decided it was time to get serious. He was hampered by the loss of his left arm, but that didn’t affect his kick. Tensing, he launched himself into the air, and gave Garyson a violent kick to the jaw. He heard bone snap, and as he tucked and rolled he congratulated him
self, assuming that the fight was over.
He was wrong. A lesser man would have been rendered unconscious by such a blow, but Garyson seemed only dazed. He shook his head, and then plowed back in, fists pumping like a piston.
Rather like a dinosaur, the captain thought sourly as he danced out of reach of the hunter’s bearlike arms. Their brains are so small that they don’t even know when they’re unconscious—or ought to be, he added, feeling a rush of wind past his face as he ducked another swing from Garyson.
His last wild punch had left the hunter off-balance, and Kirk moved in. Using his still-awkward left arm for defense he began to lay a series of punishing right jabs into Garyson’s face. His knuckles were beginning to hurt from the damage he was inflicting on the other man, but it was nothing compared to what Garyson had to be feeling. Both eyes were beginning to swell shut, and blood was trickling from his slack mouth. He continued to fight back, if somewhat feebly, and he did manage to land one punch on Kirk’s already sore mouth. One of his loose teeth let go, and Kirk paused to spit it into the sand.
That brief moment of inattention was enough. Garyson moved in and enveloped Kirk in a powerful bear hug, trapping his arms against his sides. With a grunt the hunter tightened his grip, and began to bend Kirk inexorably backward over his heavy thigh, trying to snap the captain’s spine.
Kirk felt sweat popping out on his forehead from the strain, and his mouth opened in a soundless scream. His mind seemed to run in frenzied circles as he sought some way out of the trap he was in. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Garyson’s massive torso, and below … he gave a mighty effort, and twisted slightly in the man’s grip. The action tore at his already overstressed back, and he thought he would pass out from the pain, but it had accomplished what he needed. His knee was now in position, and with one final exertion he slammed his knee into Garyson’s groin.
The man released him with a gagging groan, and clutched at his crotch. Kirk struggled to his feet and, drawing back his booted foot, gave Garyson one final kick to the head. The big hunter collapsed in an inert heap at Kirk’s feet.
“I like the way you reasoned with him.” Kor’s voice came floating from behind him, and Kirk turned painfully to face the Klingon. “After all, it wouldn’t do to have anyone hurt.”
“How long have you been here?”
“I arrived just as you gave Mr. Garyson the coup de grace, as I believe you Earthmen call it.” He took the captain’s face in one hand, and turned it this way and that as he inspected the damage. Kirk winced at the touch and pulled away. “I do think that he took the worst of it, if it is any comfort to you.”
“Not much. Did you get the rest of them?”
“They are all sitting very quiet and subdued at their camp, waiting for your pleasure.”
“My pleasure is that we get them back to the Enterprise, and lock them in the brig before my more vengeful nature takes over and I kill them.”
“Let us handle it for you. We’re not so squeamish as you humans.”
“That’s all right.” Garyson groaned, and began to regain consciousness. “How’s Lindenbaum?” Kirk asked as they jerked Garyson to his feet and started slowly back toward the camp, supporting the semiconscious hunter.
“Fine, but I think he will be glad to get to sick bay.”
“That’s understandable. Hell, I’ll be glad to get to sick bay.”
By the time they reached the transporter room Garyson had recovered enough to attempt another lunge for Kirk. Ragsdale grabbed him by the back of his collar, and pulled him away from the captain. Scotty eyed the four glowering prisoners who accompanied the security guard and the captain, and prudently sent for more security.
As soon as the first group had left the platform the engineer beamed up the remaining prisoner together with the two Klingons and the injured Lindenbaum. McCoy, who had been waiting with a medical team, stopped his running monologue of complaints and, stepping forward, helped the young man onto an antigrav stretcher.
“You better come too,” he said, pausing before Kirk and eyeing his battered face.
“Once I see these people safely in the brig.”
“Have it your way, but God knows I think you have enough muscle in this room,” he glanced about at the eight security guards who ringed the hunters, “to handle these characters without your help.”
Kor and Kandi continued to stand on the transporter platform. As Kirk started to leave Kor called to him. “Captain?”
“Yes, Commander?”
“If you would prefer not to have, shall we say, semihostile aliens aboard your ship you can send my officer and myself directly to our ships.”
Kirk paused at the door and grinned over his shoulder. “As strange as it sounds, Commander, I’m beginning to trust you. Why don’t you come along while we see our ‘guests’ safely locked away, and then I think McCoy can be persuaded to break out the Saurian brandy while I have my face repaired.”
Kor exchanged a quick glance with Kandi, who looked hopeful. “Very well, the offer of Saurian brandy is too good to pass up. We accept your hospitality.”
Garyson had listened to this exchange with what was obviously a growing sense of outrage. His heavily jowled face took on a deep, brick red color, and he stared murderously at Kirk. One of the security guards gave him a quick push on the shoulder, propelling him into motion, and the entire group left the transporter room.
They received more than a few curious and startled glances as the motley crowd of fourteen humans and two Klingons went marching through the corridors of the Enterprise. Kor noticed that they were taking what seemed to be an inordinately circuitous route to the confinement area, and he assumed Kirk was bypassing any sensitive areas. He didn’t blame the Earth captain; he would have done the same.
The hunters were deposited in the brig, and the force field brought up. Garyson approached the door, and stared hostilely after Kirk as he walked down the corridor with the two Klingons.
“You’re a traitor, Kirk. A traitor! Working with Klingons, allowing them to attack Federation citizens. I’m gonna see you fried, Kirk, when we get back.”
The captain stopped, and half turned to look back at the burly hunter. There was an amused and ironic twist to his lips. “That’s fine, Mr. Garyson, but I’m afraid you’re going to have to take a number and stand in line. Someone else has first claim on taking a piece out of my hide.”
Chapter Nine
Kali stormed off the transporter platform, heading for the door. The transporter operator started to speak to her, then thought better of it when he saw the angry frown that pulled her delicate bifurcated brows into a straight black line over the bridge of her nose. The commander’s new wife was well known for her quick temper, and he didn’t want to attract her attention when she was so obviously on a tear.
She continued to seethe as she marched through the corridors heading for the bridge. She couldn’t believe that Kor would return straight to the Klothos after dealing with the hunters. Surely he would have wanted to spend time with her since they had been separated for several days now. Unfortunately that didn’t seem to be the case, for she had waited for over two hours in the human camp without Kor returning. Kirk had checked in with his first officer, informing the Vulcan of the successful capture of the hunters, but he made no mention of her husband so she could only assume he was back aboard the ship.
She rode the power lift to the bridge. Before the door opened she stiffened her back, and set her jaw in a tight line of outrage. She was determined that he would have no doubt of her anger. The doors opened and she strode onto the bridge, only to have her outrage evaporate when she realized that Kor was not at his usual position in the command chair. Instead she recognized the back of Karsul’s shaved neck. He always wore his hair cut close to the scalp, like a common jevul fighter, a low-class affectation that she found silly and irritating. She decided that she really didn’t want to talk with the first officer, and she began to retreat back onto the power lift
.
Before she could make her escape Karsul spun about in the command chair, and pierced her with his dark gaze. There was always something so intense and brooding about the man’s look which made her feel like some small insect held beneath the merciless gaze of a microscope.
“Looking for your husband?” he asked. He drew out the last word, making it seem almost an epithet.
“Yes, but as he’s clearly not here I shall go to our quarters.”
“You won’t find him there either.”
“Then where is he?” she demanded, becoming tired of Karsul’s baiting tone, and the knowing look in his eyes.
“Still aboard the Earther ship.”
“Nothing is wrong, is it?” she asked, stepping toward him in her agitation.
“No, nothing’s wrong. I suppose he just enjoys spending his time with Earthers.” The bridge had grown very quiet, but there was a quick titter from one of the crew at his sardonic tone. The sound was abruptly cut off as Kali stared hostiley about the bridge, seeking the source of the laugh.
She stood with her hands tightly clenched at her sides, and tried to think of something to say. To bring up the temporary truce in the face of such obvious hostility seemed foolish. Nor could she admit that she had been spending a good deal of time with the humans and actually enjoying it, and suspected that Kor felt the same. That would be more than foolish—it would be suicidal.
“So,” she muttered, dropping her head. “I suppose I will wait for him in our quarters.”
“I will escort you.”
“No!” she said sharply, taking a step back. Karsul’s face darkened with anger, and she backpedaled frantically, trying to regain the ground she had lost with her rude outburst. “I mean, I thank you for the offer, but that won’t be necessary. Besides, it is probably best that you remain on the bridge in case of emergency.”
The Tears of the Singers Page 14