The Tears of the Singers

by Melinda Snodgrass

  “How far is far?”

  “Out beyond the limits of the solar system.”

  Kirk shook his head. “Out of the question. It would leave the landing party without support, and Maslin separated from the facilities of sick bay. I just got him back down there; I can’t risk losing him. Also there are those two Klingon battle cruisers to think of.”

  “We could always inform the Klingons of our suspicions, and urge them to pull back too.”

  “And just how likely do you think that will be?”

  “Not very,” Scotty admitted.

  “I agree, so we stay.”

  “Sir, we’re running dangerously low on power. If we have to fight or run I can’t guarantee the consequences.”

  Kirk gave him a careless grin. “So maybe the Klingons will stay friendly.”

  “And just how likely do you think that will be?” Scotty mimicked, throwing Kirk’s words back at him.

  “Well, we can hope. After all, we’re in this together. Nothing is going to get solved unless we continue to trust each other.”

  “I’d sooner trust an Elasian fire devil,” Scott muttered to himself as Kirk strode out of engineering.

  “We may have something for you, Mr. Spock,” Kirk said, after T’zeela contacted the landing party.

  “Anything would be welcome, Captain,” Spock’s voice came over the speaker. “Mr. Maslin’s earlier breakthrough has led us once more to an impasse. We have tried every logical line of inquiry, and even some highly questionable methods, and all to no effect. I must confess that we are very nearly as far from a solution as when we first landed.” The Vulcan’s voice held a wealth of irritation, disgust and even a touch of defeat. For the first time Kirk began to doubt their ability to solve the riddle of the Taygetians and the threat of the phenomenon, and that bothered him. Always before, the Enterprise had handled every problem with a speed and ease that confounded other starship captains, and Star Fleet itself. This time they seemed to be up against a blank wall.

  “Well try this, and see if it’s any help,” he said, forcing a confidence back into his voice that he really didn’t feel. “Mr. Scott discovered it when he was trying to locate the cause of the dilithium deterioration.”

  Kirk nodded to Mendez, who switched on a recording of the subspace harmonic. Spock listened in silence for several seconds, then said, with growing excitement in his normally level voice, “One moment while I summon Mr. Maslin. This sounds very much like it fits with the Taygetian song, but I would like to have him verify my conclusion.”

  There was a babble of voices over the speaker, then Maslin came on. “All right, Captain, I’m ready.” Kirk signaled Mendez, who once more played the recording. Kirk heard the composer muttering and humming to himself. Then Maslin gave a loud, inarticulate shout of joy. “That’s it! That’s it!” There were low murmurings as Maslin turned aside to speak to the other members of the landing party. Then suddenly the murmurs became shouts and whistles, and there were thumping sounds that strongly indicated that an impromptu dance had begun in the camp.

  “What? It’s what?” Kirk demanded, beginning to wish he were on the planet’s surface instead of stuck fifty thousand miles away, and unable to take control of the chaos that seemed to be occurring on Taygeta.

  “You see,” he heard Maslin’s voice rising above the others. “It’s like an incredibly complex canon with a secondary theme—”

  “Spock!” Kirk bellowed.

  “Here, Captain.”

  “What is going on?”

  “I think we at last have the breakthrough we needed, Captain. Mr. Maslin,” Kirk heard Spock call. “If you could contain your enthusiasm for several more minutes I would like to learn where Mr. Scott discovered this harmonic. If you would listen now it would save me the bother of having to repeat it.”

  “Oh, of course. I’m here, Captain, go ahead,” Maslin panted.

  “Scott had been measuring the cracks that were forming in the crystals, and he said it reminded him of the effect a soprano has on a glass. He then started scanning, searching for a harmonic that would resonate on the same frequencies as the crystals and cause the deterioration. He found this strange sound vibrating through subspace, but on a frequency that is never used by any race known to Star Fleet, so our scanners had overlooked it until now.”

  “Captain, please tell Lieutenant Mendez to maintain a constant monitor on the harmonic, and arrange to have the information transmitted directly to Mr. Maslin’s synthesizer.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Spock, I hadn’t thought of that.” Kirk heard Maslin’s voice in the background. “But that will be a help.”

  “So when will you have some answers for me?”

  “Unknown, Captain. We will need time to evaluate this latest information. We will get back to you as soon as possible. Oh yes, would you please send Dr. McCoy down to the camp. I think it might be prudent to have him available.”

  “Good idea, and I think I’ll come down with him just to see how you’re coming.”

  “I would advise against it, Captain.”

  “Oh? Why? Afraid I’ll get in the way?”

  “I would not have put it quite so crudely, but, essentially—yes. You lack the training to be effective in this particular investigation, Captain. Be assured, however, that we will keep you informed of any progress. Spock out.”

  “Right,” Kirk muttered, feeling once again useless. He sat in silence for several moments, then realized that he’d better call McCoy, and get him down to the Taygetian surface. After all, he thought, pulling a wry face, even errand boys had to be efficient.

  Spock ran the long ribbon of printout through his fingers, and studied the information contained there. They had gathered in Maslin and Uhura’s tent, and even Kali was present. Spock had sent for her earlier in the day, feeling it was only right that they kept their allies informed of any progress.

  Guy’s head was a heavy weight on Uhura’s shoulder, and while Spock continued to cogitate she whispered to him, “Why don’t you lie down?” He stubbornly shook his head, and with a sigh she went back to her contemplation of the three moons of Taygeta through the open tent flap.

  At last Spock lifted his head and spoke. “Congratulations, Mr. Maslin. We appear to have the beginnings of a formula.”

  Maslin, who was still leaning wearily against Uhura, straightened and shook his head. “No, what we’ve got is a fragment that still doesn’t make any sense.”

  “But a fragment that nonetheless gives some hint of the mathematical progression of the song, which in turn indicates to us how the Taygetian mind works. I would say that is a distinct improvement over our earlier situation.”

  “It’s like trying to put together a jigsaw puzzle with about half of the pieces missing,” Maslin muttered, scrubbing his face with both hands like a child who has been kept up too late.

  “So where do we find the other pieces?” Kali asked from where she sat near the tent opening.

  “I’m open to any suggestions,” Maslin replied.

  “Before we begin throwing out ideas which may or may not have any basis in logic, let us first reexamine the facts as we know them.” Spock lifted one forefinger, like a professor admonishing a group of students. “First, we know that the Taygetians are involved in an undertaking that requires the total energy of the adult population. Second, we know that this undertaking is in the form of a song, but we do not know what it signifies. Third, we know that the Taygetians appear to have the power to teleport objects, as in the case of the fish. And fourth, we know that this song encompasses all frequencies from the audible to the inaudible.”

  “And that still leaves us with no idea of what the Singers are doing,” Maslin interrupted irritably.

  “Very well then, let us examine that question. Mr. Maslin, what is your opinion?” The composer pulled his chin down into the collar of his parka and shook his head. “Lieutenant?”

  Uhura sighed. “I don’t know, Mr. Spock. I’ve analyzed it so many times that
I no longer know what to think.”

  “Lieutenant Commander?” he asked, turning to face Kali. The Klingon woman sat entranced, with her eyes haft-closed as she listened in rapt contemplation to the chorus that swelled and ebbed in the night around them.

  “Wh … what?” she stammered, pulling herself free from the spell of the Taygetian song.

  “I asked for your analysis of the Taygetian song.”

  “It’s magic,” she said seriously, looking up at him out of cloudy topaz eyes.

  “Yes, quite,” Spock said dismissively, then stopped as a new thought occurred to him. “Magic,” he repeated to himself in an undertone.

  Uhura cocked her head, and gave him a sharp look. “What is it, Mr. Spock? Are you on to something?”

  “Possibly,” he said slowly, then with greater energy demanded, “Mr. Maslin, would you please describe for me your exact feelings at the moment the first Taygetian died.”

  “Well sure, I’ll try, but it’s all rather fuzzy.” He closed his eyes, and drew a quick breath. “I was trying to improvise on a theme from the song so I was very deeply involved in the music. Then suddenly I felt as if a part of me had been …” He hesitated and looked puzzled.

  “Removed?” Spock suggested.

  “Yes! That’s it. I felt as if a part of me had been torn away, and … it’s funny, but it almost hurt.”

  “You did in fact pass out for several seconds,” Spock reminded him.

  “Yeah, but what’s all this got to do with the Taygetians?”

  The Vulcan rose, and began to pace the small confines of the tent. “We are all agreed that the Taygetian song extends through the audible ranges and even into ultra-and subsonics. We have now found the song vibrating in subspace, so is it not possible that this music extends through the entire spectrum? Even perhaps into warp space and beyond, say, into the realm of the psychic?”

  “That’s a pretty amazing theory, Spock,” Uhura said guardedly. “What do you have for evidence?”

  “First, Mr. Maslin’s reaction to the death of a Singer.” He looked at the composer. “I wondered at the time if you might not be a latent telepath.”

  “I’ve always tested high on those psi tests they give you when you enter school, but I never followed up on it.”

  “Hardly your fault. The Earth people tend not to encourage or train for this gift. However, if you are a telepath it can be easily tested by use of the Vulcan mind meld. We might find it useful to try at some point.”

  “Assuming all of this to be true, how do we empirically prove it? My husband isn’t going to accept wild guesses and what he will call mumbo-jumbo,” Kali stated.

  “Nor will my captain,” Spock countered. “Therefore we must produce the proof.”

  “But how?” Kali repeated.

  “By using the scanners of the Enterprise to determine if the song is present in warp space. If so it will give us yet another piece of the Taygetian song, and enable us, using the computers, to extrapolate how the song functions on the psychic plane.”

  “Why not just mind meld with one of the Taygetians?” Uhura asked. “Rather than risking an error of deduction?”

  “I hesitate to interfere with the adults, Lieutenant, and I think that a joining with one of the cubs would only produce interesting, but not very relevant, information about the cubs alone. As you know they are not involved in the song, and it is the song that must concern us. Let us try this method first. We can always resort to the meld if it should become necessary.”

  “So when do we begin?” Kali asked.

  “Immediately. It would help matters if you would duplicate my efforts using your own computers. The differences in programming between machines might give us the edge we need.”

  “All right. I’m sure Kor will agree.”

  “Uh, Spock,” Uhura said, catching him by the elbow, and pulling him aside. “It’s very late, and you know what Dr. McCoy said. Wouldn’t it be prudent to start this in the morning? Or at least let Guy rest while you do the preliminaries?”

  “Time is not something we have in abundance, Lieutenant, and this is the time when I have most need of Mr. Maslin’s skills. You must set aside your emotionalism, and allow us to get on with our investigation.”

  “I am not acting on emotion alone,” Uhura began, her voice low, but filled with a deep anger. “I am referring to your God almighty: logic—”

  “Uhura,” Guy said softly, slipping an arm around her waist, and turning her to face him. “It’s all right. You agreed to let me finish my work here. The sooner we make this last push, the sooner it will be over, and we can be together.” His eyes gazed intently into hers, pleading, reassuring, cajoling; and at last she reluctantly nodded. “Good lass,” he said softly and, catching her chin in his hand, tipped her head, and kissed her.

  Kali planted her hands firmly in the center of Spock’s back, and pushed him firmly out of the tent. “Come along, Mr. Spock, we can begin the setup in your tent.”

  “But …” he began with a glance back at the two humans, locked in a deep embrace.

  “They will be along,” she reassured him, as she hustled him across the sand to his own tent. “Trust to my greater experience in these matters. This is one time when logic must take a back seat to sensitivity.”

  Kirk struggled up through layers of sleep, summoned by the insistent whistle of his desk communicator. Staggering out of bed, he stumbled to the table, and pushed the hair out of his eyes.

  “Kirk here,” he murmured blearily.

  “Spock here, Captain. We need an immediate meeting—”

  “Mr. Spock, are you aware,” he squinted over at the chronometer that rested on the shelf behind his bed, “that it is four in the morning?”

  “Yes, Captain, but I had news which I felt you would not wish to wait before hearing.”

  “You’ve broken the Taygetian language,” Kirk breathed, all muzziness vanishing before the excitement of the moment.

  “Correct, Captain.”

  “Well?” Kirk demanded after several seconds passed without further elaboration from Spock.

  “Lieutenant Commander Kali has requested that a three-way conference be established so we may present our findings to both you and Commander Kor simultaneously. She feels that will prevent the Federation from receiving an unfair advantage by being the first to receive this information.”

  “Is it bad?” Kirk asked, feeling a cold knot settle into the pit of his stomach.

  “Let us say rather that it would grant to the possessor of this information an awesome amount of power.”

  Kirk stood silent for several moments, digesting Spook’s cryptic remark. “Very well,” he said at last, and gave a quick nod. “I agree. Have you gotten in touch with Kor?”

  “Kali is contacting him now. Is fifteen minutes sufficient to have everything prepared?”

  “We’ll be ready. Kirk out.”

  Kirk contacted the bridge, and ordered that a three-way link be established. He then flung on a uniform, and raced for the bridge. His blood was hammering in his ears, and all he could think was: We did it. We did it! Suddenly he sobered, and slowed from his haft run to a walk.

  Kali had insisted that both the Klingons and the Enterprise learn the secret of Taygeta at the same time, and Spook had indicated that it was a secret that carried the potential to be a double-edged sword. All of this implied that the Singers possessed some possibly useful or dangerous power. Perhaps both. If so, what would the Klingons do? As a race, they weren’t known for honoring treaties and commitments when there was something to be gained.

  As he rode the turbolift to the bridge, Kirk considered the two Klingon cruisers that orbited only a few hundred kilometers from the Enterprise. Granted, everyone’s power was down due to the harmonic that had affected their dilithium crystals, but it was still two to one, and Kirk didn’t much like those odds.

  Can Kor be trusted? He had thought so that day they had shared a bottle of Saurian brandy. Now the stakes had g
one up, and he was no longer so sure.

  The main screen flickered to life, revealing Spock, Uhura, Maslin—who was seated at the synthesizer—and Kali. Behind them a portable display board had been erected. Its smooth white surface was covered with a series of complicated mathematical formulae. Maslin looked ghastly, with large dark circles like bruises about his eyes, but he seemed animated by a feverish excitement. Occasionally he would play a quick passage on the synthesizer, then leap up and hurry to the board where he would make some minute change in one of the numbers.

  “All right, Mr. Spock, we’re ready.”

  “Same here,” Kor’s voice came over one of the speakers.

  “Everyone has observed the formulae?” Spock asked.

  “Yes,” the two captains said in chorus.

  “Very good. We have put these up for the benefit of the science teams of all three ships. We will not, however, take the time to work through them. A simple summary should suffice.”

  “Thank you, Spock,” Kirk murmured gratefully under his breath.

  “I will have Mr. Maslin begin, as it was his observations that gave us our first clue.”

  Maslin straddled the bench, his hands tensely gripping its edges. “You all know about my report on the fish that suddenly appeared in the grottos when a particular passage was sung by the cubs. I had assumed this to be an example of simple telekinesis. Interesting, certainly, but hardly an unusual talent among the races of the galaxy.

  “Then Mr. Scott discovered the subspace harmonic, and things began to come together. We postulated the theory that the Taygetian song extended through the entire spectrum from the audible into the psychic. Using the Enterprise’s scanners Mr. Spock discovered the song also vibrating in warp space. This gave strong support to our theory, and using all the available data the computers were able to extrapolate the musical progression of the song in the psychic realm. This,” he waved his hand at the tangle of numbers on the board, “is the result of our night’s work. We now know that what the Taygetians are practicing is far from simple telekinesis. They are, in a nutshell, able to manipulate their physical environment.”