Star Trek 03

by James Blish

  "And of what use was this grand surprise?" the woman said with contempt. "Here he can simply starve us out."

  As Kirk digested the truth of that, Maab's voice rang out.

  "Captain!"

  "What is it?"

  Maab came forward, slowly, accompanied by two henchmen. The other assassins followed, stopping just out of arrow range. They learn fast, Kirk thought ruefully.

  "A fine fight, Captain. And fought with much ingenuity. But useless, as you can see. I suggest that you put down your weapons now."

  Clearly, there was no choice. "Do as he says, Doctor, Mr. Spock," Kirk said quietly. "It appears that the cavalry doesn't come over the hill any more."

  Eleen pushed forward, the child held out in her arms. "Take him, Maab. He is all that prevents your true Chieftanship."

  Maab signaled to a henchman, who came forward and took the child.

  "I will go now," Eleen said, hopefully.

  "No," Maab said. "You stand condemned for other treasons. You know the penalty for unfaithfulness."

  The woman backed away in terror. "No, no! I was not unfaithful—there was no one . . ."

  "There is proof," Maab said heavily. "Keel saw it done, though he did not name the man before he was slain by this alien Captain's arrow. My brother may be dead, but his honor is my honor. Let justice be done!"

  "No! No!"

  Eleen began to run. The makeen silently cleared for her what seemed to be an avenue of escape. Then a klugat whirled through the air. She fell, and was still.

  Maab looked sharply at Kirk. "You do not protest as before."

  "Your justice is served," Kirk said, fighting down his nausea. "Perhaps it was merited. But the child is a different matter. He has harmed no one."

  "He lives. The High Chieftanship must be mine."

  "Why? Clearly you have only sown the seeds of still more factionalism, still more assassination. What do you really gain in the end, Maab? And who else gains with you?"

  "You are a clever man, Captain," Maab said reflectively. "You see beneath surfaces. Well, you are not the only ones who wish this rock in our hills. The Klingon Empire offered my brother much for mining rights. Wealth, power, a seat in their Empire. The fool chose to honor a promise made to your Federation. He did not trust the Klingons."

  "But you did."

  "I had to be Chief to give them what they wanted. A Klingon ship drew yours away so your men could not stop Akaar's death. You could have returned without harm if you had not broken taboo to save Eleen. She was not worth your deaths."

  "She was," McCoy said, "then."

  "Because of the child within her? But both die in the end. All this that followed was fruitless."

  "One thing, then," McCoy said. "Let me have the boy I brought into the world. If you're going to take us out of it, I'd rather have him with me."

  Maab shrugged and signaled to his henchman, who paused and then passed the child to McCoy. The remaining assassins raised their klugats. The resemblance to a firing squad was inarguable . . .

  "Drop those weapons!"

  The voice—Scott's voice—came from the lip of the cliff. With him was Sulu and a crewman. At the edge of the other side of the defile were Frost and two more crewmen—all with phasers at the ready.

  "What the devil?" McCoy said.

  "I would say, Doctor," Spock said, "that the cavalry has just come over the hill."

  The crewmen came down, herding the assassins together. "But how?" Maab said. "How did you escape the Klingon ship? They were not to let you through until I signaled . . ."

  "They backed off and ran when we came straight at them," Sulu said with a grin. "At first they decoyed us away with false distress calls, but when we saw through that and went right down their throats—well, their ships have speed, I'll grant them that."

  Scott added, "I didn't think the Klingons were ready for a war, even to please this gentleman. Not even for topaline mining rights."

  "Mr. Scott," Kirk said, "I know you for a resourceful man, but how did you find us out here?"

  "When we beamed down to the main camp, we found what had happened. A lot of Akaar's followers are left; only the assassins of Maab's group went hunting you. They told us you'd escaped to the hills, we used our sensors to pinpoint you, and beamed down again. 'Twas a near squeak."

  Abruptly, there was movement behind Maab and a knife flashed. Maab gasped and fell. His killer stolidly wiped the knife on the sleeve of his tunic and held it out to a stunned Kirk.

  "For treason to Akaar," the man said, "and for treason with the Klingons. I now stand ready for justice."

  "And who in blazes may you be?" Kirk demanded. "I," the man said, "am the father of the High Chief born of Eleen."

  The treaty was signed, by the father, who after a long tribal parley had been named the High Chief's guardian-regent. What complicated tribal politics and concepts of justice produced this result, Kirk could not fathom, nor did he care any longer. It was enough for him that the man had bound himself to serve the child until it came of age.

  The last surprise was the naming of the High Chief. The father dubbed him, Leonard James Akaar.

  It was Spock's opinion that McCoy and the Captain were going to be insufferably pleased with themselves, about that for at least a month.

  AMOK TIME*

  (Theodore Sturgeon)

  *Hugo Award nominee

  * * *

  It was actually Nurse Christine Chapel who first noticed that there seemed to be something wrong with Spock. Nothing serious—only that he wasn't eating. McCoy, observing him more closely, saw no further sign but what seemed to be a gradual increase in tension, something that might almost have been called "nervousness" if Spock hadn't been half Vulcan. This, McCoy thought, might have been purely a subjective impression on his own part.

  It wasn't. On the third day of the apparent fast, Nurse Chapel tried to tempt the First Officer with a vile green concoction called plomik soup, regarded as a delicacy on Vulcan. Spock threw the bowl at her, soup and all.

  This was enough to move McCoy to suggest to Spock, a day after the soup incident and apparently without any connection to it, that it was time for his routine checkup.

  The logical, unemotional First Officer's verbatim reply to this was, "You will cease to pry into my personal affairs, Doctor, or I shall certainly break your neck."

  Regardless of his state of mind—whatever it was—Spock certainly knew that this would not go unreported. He forestalled inquiry by requesting a leave of absence on his home planet. On the present course of the Enterprise, he pointed out, a diversion to Vulcan would cost a loss of only 2.8 light-days.

  Unfortunately, Kirk had to refuse him. In all the years that Kirk had known him, Spock had never asked for a leave of any sort, and in fact had refused offers; he had leave enough accumulated for six men. But the Enterprise was bound for the inauguration ceremonies of the new president of Altair Six—not, apparently, a vital assignment, but the orders left no leeway for side trips, all the same. Kirk suggested that shore leave facilities on Altair Six were excellent; Spock declined the offer stiffly, and that was that.

  At least, that should have been that. Not six hours later, while the First Officer was off duty, Kirk discovered that the ship's course had been altered for Vulcan anyhow, on Spock's orders. Leaving the bridge in Scott's charge, Kirk went directly down to Spock's quarters.

  He had seldom visited them before, but he resisted the impulse to look around. He got only the vague impression of a room simple, sparse and vaguely Oriental in decoration and mood, the quarters of a warrior in the field. Spock was seated at a desk studying a small reading screen. Kirk had the briefest of impressions that the screen showed the head of a very young girl, no more than a child, but Spock snapped it off too quickly for him to be sure.

  "Well, Mr. Spock?"

  "Well, Captain?"

  "I want an explanation. Why did you change our course?"

  "Sir?"

  "You changed our cour
se for Vulcan. I want to know why."

  Spock frowned slightly. "I changed our course?"

  "You deny it?"

  "No," Spock said. "By no means, Captain. It is—quite possible."

  "Then why did you do it?"

  "Captain," Spock said, "I accept, on your word, that I did it. But I do not know why. Nor do I remember doing it." He looked straight at Kirk, his spine stiffening. "And therefore I request that you put me in confinement—securely—where I can neither see nor be seen by anvone."

  "But why?"

  "Captain, lock me away. I do not wish to be seen. I cannot. . . No Vulcan could explain further."

  "Spock, I'm trying to help you . . ."

  "Ask me no further questions!" Spock almost shouted. "I will not answer!"

  "All right," Kirk said evenly. "I'll accede to your request. But first, I order you to report to Sickbay, Mr. Spock. McCoy's waiting."

  "I don't know how Spock exists with his kind of internal setup," McCoy said. "His normal pulse is in the 240 beats-per-minute range, his blood pressure almost nonexistent by our standards—not that I consider that green stuff of his to be entirely comparable to blood. But that's only Spock under normal conditions, Jim. As matters stand now, if we don't get him to Vulcan within eight days—or maybe only seven—he'll die."

  "Die? But why? What's the matter with him?"

  "I don't know," McCoy said. "All I can tell you is that there's a growing imbalance of bodily functions. As if in your or my bodies, huge amounts of adrenalin were constantly being secreted into our bloodstreams. Spock won't say why. But unless it's stopped somehow, the physical and emotional pressures will kill him."

  "You're convinced he knows what it is?"

  "Yes. But he won't tell me."

  "He's in the solitary confinement he asked for now?"

  "Yes, Jim. And—I wouldn't approach him, if I were you. It's a shocking thing to have to say, but—well, I consider him irrational."

  "I'll see him anyhow. What else can I do? There's got to be an answer."

  "I suppose so," McCoy said. "But Jim—watch out."

  "Mr. Spock," Kirk said, as gently as possible. "McCoy gave me his evaluation of your condition."

  Spock remained silent, his face averted.

  "Spock, he says you'll die unless something is done. What? Is it something only your planet can do for you?"

  No answer.

  "Mr. Spock. You have been called the best First Officer in the Fleet. That is an enormous asset to me. If I have to lose that First Officer, I want to know why."

  Spock stirred, and then began to speak in an almost inaudible voice. "It is a thing that no . . . outworlder may know—except for the very few that have been involved. A Vulcan understands—but even we do not speak of it among ourselves. It is a deeply personal thing. Captain, cannot you let it rest at that?"

  "I cannot," Kirk said. "My ship, my command, my duty are all at stake. I require you to explain. If I must, I'll order you to explain."

  "Captain—some things transcend even the discipline of the service."

  "That may sometimes be true. But nothing transcends the health, safety and well-being of the members of my crew. Would it help to promise you that I'd consider anything you say to me to be totally confidential?"

  Spock hesitated a long moment. At last he said, "It has to do with—with . . ."

  The last word was quite inaudible. Kirk said, "With what?"

  "Biology."

  "What kind of biology?"

  "Vulcan biology."

  "You mean, the biology of Vulcans? Biology, as in reproduction? Oh, blazes! That's nothing to be embarrassed about. It even happens to birds and bees."

  Spock stared at the floor. "The birds and bees are not Vulcans. If they were—if any creature were as proudly logical as we—and had their logic ripped from them—as this time does to us . . ."

  Kirk waited.

  "How do Vulcans find their mates?" Spock said. "Haven't you wondered, Captain? How are we selected, one for the other? I'm sure you've heard many jokes on the subject. We are so aloof, so proud, so without feeling, that we invite such jokes."

  "Yes, I've heard them," Kirk said. "But jokes aside, I guess the rest of us assume, well, that it's done, uh, quite logically. Eugenically, perhaps."

  "It—is not. We shield it with ritual and custom, as shrouded in antiquity as our seven moons. You humans have no conception—it strips our minds from us. It brings a—a madness which rips away our veneer of civilization." Spock slumped, his face pinched with agony. "It is the pon farr—the time of mating."

  "But you're not a salmon or an eel, man! You're . . ."

  "Half human," Spock finished, painfully. "I had hoped that that would spare me this. But my Vulcan blood is too strong. It drives me home, to take a wife in Vulcan fashion. Or else, as Dr. McCoy says, to die."

  "Dear God," Kirk said. The lumps in his own belly and throat were now almost too great for him to bear. He could only vaguely imagine what it had cost Spock to tell him this much.

  Was there any way out? There were three starships expected to attend the inauguration ceremony: the Enterprise, the Excalibur and the Endeavour. Neither of the others was within range to get Spock to Vulcan in time.

  It was not that vital to have three starships at the ceremony, but the orders specified it. If Kirk disobeyed, Starship Command would . . .

  Never mind. Kirk owed his life to Spock, not just once, but half a dozen times. That was worth a career. Kirk stepped to the intercom.

  "Mr. Chekov, Kirk here. Maintain course for Vulcan. Warp Eight."

  "Uh—yes, sir," Chekov's startled voice said.

  "Kirk out."

  "Captain," Spock said in a low voice.

  "Yes, Mr. Spock."

  "Something happens to us at this time, almost—an insanity—an insanity you—no doubt would find distasteful."

  "Should I? You've been patient with my kinds of madness."

  "Then—will you beam down with me to the surface of Vulcan, and stand with me? There is a brief ceremony. By tradition, the male is attended by his closest friends."

  "Thank you, Mr. Spock."

  "Also—I believe Doctor McCoy has also guessed the reason behind all this, and has kept his own counsel, and my secret. I would like him to accompany us."

  "I believe," Kirk said slowly, "that he will be honored."

  The three beamed down to a fairly level arena area. Rocks around its edges gave it a half-natural, half-artificial aspect, as if the wind and ram had carved something like a Stonehenge, or reduced a Stonehenge to something like this. Inside it, there was an open temple—two high arches of stone, an open fire pit, several huge, jade-like wind chimes stirring and chiming in the hot breeze. The rest of the landscape was drifting sand, stretching away to a distant saw-toothed line of mountains jutting up at the edge of the far horizon.

  "The land of my family," Spock said. "Our place for mating. It has been held by us for more than two thousand Earth years!" He choked, and gestured toward the temple. "This—is Koon-ut-Kal-if-fee. It means, 'The place of marriage and challenge.' In the distant past, we—killed to win our mates. It is still a time of dread for us. Perhaps, the price we pay—for no emotion the rest of the time."

  "If it's any of my business—" McCoy began.

  "You were invited, Doctor."

  "Then—you said this T'Pring you are to meet was already your wife."

  "By our parents' arrangement. A ceremony, while we were but seven years of age. One touches the other—thus—as you have seen me do to feel another's thoughts. In this way, our minds were locked together—so that at the proper time we would both be drawn to Koon-ut-Kal-if-fee."

  There sounded a distant bell, harmonizing well with the heavier notes of the wind chimes, and then figures began to appear among the rocks. There seemed to be eight or ten of them. Heading the procession, four Vulcan men were carrying someone in an ornate litter or sedan chair. Two other members of the party carried bright-colored,
ceremonial objects which consisted of dozens of tiny bells attached to an ornate frame on a pole. As they drew closer, Kirk saw that the person inside the litter was an old woman of immensely authoritative bearing; as the litter was set down and she emerged from it, he recognized her with a shock as one of the high Vulcan elders, T'Pau, the only person who had ever turned down a seat on the Federation Council. Characteristically, Spock had never mentioned that his family was this important.

  The bride walked beside her, no child now, but a lithe, graceful, beautiful woman, even by Earth standards. Behind her strode a tall, muscular and rather handsome Vulcan male; and behind him, a slightly shorter but even stronger-looking man who carried a Vulcan war ax. The rest of the procession moved in stately grace behind these principals.

  Spock turned and walked to one of the huge wind chimes. Picking up a stone mallet, he struck the chimes, producing a somber male sound which was answered by the shaking of the bell banners. T'Pring seated herself on a carved rock at the temple archway. T'Pau stood in the open in front of the temple, with her back to it and the girl. The muscular young Vulcan stood next to the arch, like a big brick gatepost, while the rest of the entourage lined up in a curve behind them.

  With a sudden swift movement, T'Pau raised both her arms. Spock stepped forward and bowed before her. She laid both her hands on his shoulders, as if in a blessing, and then looked beyond him to Kirk and McCoy.

  "Spock. Are our ceremonies for outworlders?"

  "They are not outworlders," Spock said. "They are my friends. I am permitted this. Their names are Kirk and McCoy. I pledge their behavior with my life."

  "Very well." T'Pau turned to the bearers of the bell banners. "Kah-if-fee!"

  The bell banners were shaken. Spock turned to strike the wind chimes again with his stone mallet—but at the same instant the girl T'Pring sprang to her feet and cried out:

  "Kah-if-FARR!"