The Cry of the Onlies

by Judy Klass

  "Well, Captain," she said, "would you be willing to take the risk of hearing us out, learning our point of view?"

  "We're eager to learn more about you. Perhaps a meeting with the entire council can be arranged?"

  "You will meet more of the ministers tomorrow. They will show you around. And perhaps, in a few days, we can all meet together, yes?"

  Kirk had instructions to spend as much as a week here, if it seemed advisable. The planet was so crucial, the issues in which it was involved so complex. "That makes sense," he said.

  Spock observed his captain as they were escorted by the boy guard to a nearby bungalow to spend the night. A squat, ungainly building, it was covered with a matted thatch of leaves, which spilled down from the roof, along the outer walls. Once inside, Kirk scanned the room with his eyes, and stretched. He checked in with Mr. Scott, and with satisfaction tried the bolt on the door. He gave the impression of nonchalance, but Spock knew him well enough to detect a quiet uneasiness, doubtless due to the lack of phasers. Kirk felt his men were too vulnerable. Of course, he could have had new ones beamed down from the Enterprise, if only just for the night. The Boacans would never know. Yet Spock knew that Kirk would never do this. It would violate the captain's peculiar elaborate personal code of honor to do so; he wanted to win the Boacans' trust, and so could not even hoodwink them in secrecy.

  McCoy was the one officially in charge of looking after the captain's physical and mental well-being. Yet for Spock, too, Kirk's health and state of mind were extremely important. Any danger or disturbance that Kirk fell victim to played upon the Vulcan's nerves as if they were harp strings. He knew he was too vigilant; worry was a contemptible human emotion. He rationalized it; after all, had he not used all his years among humans to study them, to try to understand the way they thought? And was not Jim Kirk an especially fine and complex human to observe, embodying every facet of the standard Terran personality, only much more so?

  As first officer, was it not his official duty, as well as McCoy's, to be certain at all times that the captain was fit and safe and functioning at his best? Also, he reasoned, the empathy between his captain and himself was especially strong because a wisp of empathy always hangs between a telepath and one to whose mind he has been linked. And Spock had mindmelded with his captain on several occasions.

  Spock watched Kirk now, watched him smoothly allay the fears of his men, so that they could relax and go to sleep. Young Michaels was haranguing him, in a manner which seemed to Spock a severe breach of discipline. Kirk checked the boy, gently but firmly. So confident was he about his position of command that he could keep the atmosphere loose and informal. The difference between us, thought Spock, who in command situations always went by the book.

  "Why let her tell us what to do, Captain? Why let them deal with us so casually? It's so obvious that they deliberately set out to insult us. They must know how much is at stake here. They're testing us."

  "I don't think an insult was intended, Michaels. They have no idea how to conduct these affairs. They're soldiers, not diplomats," Kirk said approvingly.

  "But can't you see …"

  "I can't see any point in discussing it further, Ensign. Get some sleep. I need you alert tomorrow, and with an open mind."

  The security guards had the beds nearest the door. They asked the captain if they should take turns staying awake and standing guard. Kirk gave them a negative, told them to turn in. Spock thought it likely that he would order them to beam back up to the Enterprise in the morning. Jim seems to instinctively like this place, seems very relaxed here. Perhaps, after all, too relaxed. Fresh air, the warm night, the rich smell of the floor of the bungalow could, Spock knew, ease a human's guard, make him too trusting. There was a tendency among humans to see a planet at an early stage of development as a paradise: free, protective, and unspoilt. Such thinking was irrational. It was a thing to be watched against.

  But the jingoism of Michaels was indeed trying. He lay on his cot, whispering, still arguing, spouting a line of thought currently very popular among Starfleet Academy cadets. "The Klingons have no final goal, they're insatiable, they'll stop at nothing. And little worlds like this, they don't know what they're doing, don't know what they're letting themselves in for. They buy arms from the Klingons—might as well sell their souls to the devil. Whatever problems there were here, whatever the old rulers were like, they must have been better than the new ones; these people are beyond our reasoning and beyond our help. They think they're fighting for freedom, and then their whole world will turn into a prison camp, and it happens over and over …"

  The two security guards listened and nodded solemnly.

  McCoy flicked a beetle off his blanket and propped himself up on one elbow. "What do you think of all this, Spock?"

  "Of the new Boacan regime, Doctor? It is much too early to form a concrete opinion. What I have seen so far has struck me as positive."

  The three young men, who conceived of the stoic Spock as the most conservative of officers, were obviously surprised to hear him speak this way.

  "You think this revolution will turn out to be a good thing, sir?" Michaels asked.

  "I didn't say that, Ensign. But I understand the scale of the ugliness and evil that were here before. The brutality, the waste, the utter disregard for life. And I understand the impulse to replace that bitter reality. No more can be said at this time."

  Kirk lifted the large orange candle lighting the bungalow from its rickety table and blew it out.

  "And with that, men, let's get some sleep."

  Chapter Four

  THE SECURITY GUARDS did return to the ship in the morning. An agricultural specialist, an expert in jungle education, and a historian were beamed down to replace them. The phasers were returned, which seemed a show of good faith on the part of Tamara Angel. A breakfast of meat was provided, with a separate bowl of fruit for Spock, apparently because of his Vulcan vegetarian beliefs. This, to Kirk, also seemed surprisingly knowing and thoughtful.

  After the meal, Kirk found Spock outside the bungalow, watching the city come alive. Merchants and women selling fruit were taking to the streets, rhythmically wailing out praise of their goods. Small, reptilian flying creatures, with ridiculous feathery tufts on their heads, swooped between buildings, and picked at bits of meat that had dropped off the spits of the night before. And small lizards crept in the dust along the roadside, their backs the rich orange color of the dust in which they lived.

  "Fascinating, isn't it, Captain?" Spock said, pointing at various creatures. "These reptilelike birds, and these dust lizards, are animals which have become fully adapted to urban life, dependent on it, as rats and pigeons and sparrows and some insects were, at one time, on your Earth. And look at that animal," he continued, indicating a scruffy snout which poked through the doorway of a house across the road from them. "In the wild, it is remarkable for its intelligence and its ferocity. But the Boacans have managed to tame them, and domesticate them, and they are fiercely loyal, ideal for guarding homes. Almost no household is without one. Unfortunately, many of the local animals are inedible, which is why starvation has sometimes been a problem—though usually not in times of peace. And look at that beast of burden carrying that tinsmith's pots." Spock switched his focus once again. "It carries its young in a pouch, similar to marsupials on Earth, and to Denebian momruks. But this does not impede its usefulness to merchants here."

  Kirk squinted lazily at the ungainly shabby creature as it rolled its fleshy body along, close to the ground, and clattered with its pots and pans down the street. It was followed by a young boy who carried a large pole.

  "One must admit, Captain," Spock went on, "that the variety of fauna on this planet is striking and impressive. Even here, in the heart of the capital city. And because of the incompetence of the old rulers, and our bad relations with the new ones, it has never been properly cataloged."

  "Remember, Mr. Spock," Kirk said, "we're not here on a zoological expedit
ion. We've got plenty of other things to be looking into."

  "Quite so, Captain. I was merely struck by the abundance of uncharted wildlife around us."

  The light from the two suns poured down and lit the clay and wooden walls of the buildings, which were covered with a film of morning dew. The moisture was black, but it lit up as brilliant fuchsia when penetrated by sunlight. One of the three moons still hung in the early morning air, a sliver, silvery pale.

  "Yes, this place is remarkable," Kirk said slowly. "A tragedy that violence has marred it for so long."

  The sounds of infants crying and of sleepy children waking and chattering could be heard in the neighboring homes. A woman five houses away came into her yard to shake out a blanket, and shooed away the reptile birds feasting on scraps. They descended again when she was gone. The tufts on their heads hung over their beaks as they plucked at the dust.

  "There's something invigorating about a world like this, Spock. Something renewing."

  Kirk's beatific expression as he said this caused Spock to express his concerns of the night before. "And yet, Captain, a deceptively lovely atmosphere could alter our perceptions, interfere with our investigations."

  Kirk smiled. "Don't worry, Mr. Spock. I'm more taken by the return of our phasers than by the pretty scenery." He felt the butt of the phaser reassuringly strapped at his hip. "That girl, Tamara Angel …"

  "An unusual minister of state."

  "Most definitely. Do you think 'Angel' is a family name, Spock? Or a name she's taken for herself?"

  "A combination of both, Captain. History tapes show that the Angel family is an old and prestigious one on Boaco Six. The real name is ancient and, to a Terran tongue, unpronounceable. 'Angel' is an attractive English rendering of it."

  Kirk knew that his first officer's own Vulcan family name was something equally impossible to pronounce. But there was no such colorful English version of it. "Well, if the rest of the ministers are like her, we're in for quite a week."

  They reentered the bungalow. The recomposed landing party was assembled, its new members briefed. A young boy guard appeared in the doorway, to escort them to a nearby public square to meet the minister of education. His name was Noro. He pumped their hands eagerly, an impossibly young, slightly awkward fellow who was missing many of his teeth. Kirk tried to imagine this unprepossessing youth shouldering the job of educating a world whose illiteracy rate had always been staggeringly high.

  After introductions were completed, nine lumbering animals were led into the public square on tethers. They were covered with gray fur, short and downy as peach fuzz, but thicker, and had lumpy, sloping backs. The animals greatly resembled Earth camels except that they had six legs, three on each side—a trait all Boacan fauna seemed to share. If they had wings, Kirk mused, you'd expect them to buzz like insects, and fly away.

  The animals knelt before them. Rich, embroidered saddles were draped across their backs. Clearly, they were expected to ride.

  "I'm a doctor, not a rodeo cowboy," McCoy protested softly, more to himself than to anyone else, as they mounted and the creatures rose. They began to trot.

  "Hang on, men. It's all in the line of duty!" Kirk called out, as he rode in front with his host, leading the party. Hand pressure on the fuzzy sides of the animals' long skinny necks seemed to regulate their speed. Spock soon rode by his side.

  "These beasts are called larpas," Noro said to Kirk, and beamed. Kirk beamed back, though the bony back of the animal could be felt through the rich silk of the ruglike saddle, and the rolling of the three legs on each side being picked up and set down made for a curiously bumpy ride. The larpas called to each other in strange, comical hoots.

  The historian, Rizzuto, yelled ahead to the captain. "An ancient form of transportation here, sir. The planet was pretty famous for it. Rulers still used it on state occasions until recently, and then Markor the Tyrant made old-style motor cars fashionable. Only the rulers and the very wealthy could afford those, too, but I haven't seen any …"

  "No," Noro explained. "We in the council do not use those so much. We are hoping to soon have mechanized public transportation in big cities such as this. Such a system is already under construction on the other landmass. We thought you might like to ride larpas as, one might say, a 'traditional' welcome to Boaco Six." Again, he flashed a gap-filled smile.

  People in the streets openly gawked at the passing cavalcade; children squealed and pointed.

  "A royal welcome, Mr. Spock," Kirk said quietly.

  "Indeed, Captain."

  Some of the townspeople shouted and made disrespectful remarks. Everyone else seemed to be on foot, though some carts filled with goods were drawn by the beasts Spock had pointed out earlier, and by smaller, scrawny, miserable-looking animals. Kirk realized that riding a larpa was now a pretty exceptional way of getting around.

  They're doing it because they think it will appeal to whatever romantic ideas we have about their planet. They see it as a treat. They may make speeches slandering the Federation, and officially are wary of our aid. But in their own clumsy, haphazard way, they're trying to give us the red-carpet treatment. They must, after all, want Federation support, want it very badly.

  Noro gave a sharp yell, and all the larpas halted before one of the scorched and battered buildings of white stone. Cautiously, uncertainly, the landing party dismounted, McCoy moaning loudly.

  Noro faced them from the middle of the stone steps, which glittered brilliantly under the glare of twin suns. "This was the palace of Puil, former ruler of the city of Boa and the lands surrounding it. We have opened it to the public as a museum, so they can see what the money that could have been bread and meat in their children's mouths was used for."

  Kirk and Spock exchanged glances, and the landing party entered the palace.

  They milled amongst the people of the city, let the current of people lead them. One room contained glass cells where exotic animals from all over the galaxy had been kept, in an impressive menagerie. Many of these creatures were still there, being maintained. But among these cells were the ones in which Boacan political prisoners had been kept, naked, sometimes for years, as curiosities in Puil's zoo. These cells were now empty.

  Adjacent to this room was the torture room. A young man was picking up smooth metal objects from a table, explaining what each was used for to a crowd of children. The room was vast and featured an array of instruments ranging from a rack, hot pokers, and thumbscrews, to the very latest in renegade molecule rupturers and nerve center paralyzers. The young man explained that there were many subterranean chambers like this room throughout the city. "This room, here in the palace, was only for Puil's very special guests."

  McCoy, his face grim, kept a low-running commentary going on what each of the devices would do to the human body.

  And then there were the ballrooms. Great round rooms festooned with dazzling candelabras; boots and bare feet moved gingerly across the floors of smoothly polished stone. Voices echoed in the stillness. The walls were a sea of mirrors; to glance around was to see oneself and those nearby duplicated hundreds of times, stretching backward into a hundred different infinities.

  Courtly music could be faintly heard, like a whispering ghost of former grand parties; it came from a small section of one of the rooms which had been partitioned off. Behind the partition, old royal "home movies" of various parties and gala events were shown every hour. Kirk and his group waited to watch them from the beginning. They showed what this room had looked like in the time of Puil, filled with glittering guests and music, the images of the twirling couples flashing on the mirrored walls like bursts of color and light. The Federation men stood in the crowd and watched as the films chronicled royal festivals and party games, masques and practical jokes, pantomimes and magic acts. A poetry recital was followed by the torturing to death of a thief; both met with showers of applause and drunken delight from Puil's guests.

  The coifs of the women were intricately woven and piled
on their heads like jeweled mountains; the weave of the hose on the legs of the men was no less elaborate. Kirk and his friends watched the series of films through once, then moved on.

  They wandered out into a maze of long, twisting staircases and corridors, encrusted with sculptures and paintings of the ruler and his family dressed in Terran Greek classical garb, in their ceremonial robes, even in Starfleet uniforms, receiving honorary decorations from the Federation. The Enterprise men winced at the sight. It was not pleasant to recall that the Federation had helped Puil to first achieve power.

  Stemming out from the corridor were smaller ballrooms, the banquet rooms, the music chambers … they moved with the crowd, everyone gawking and craning their necks.

  "It's fantastic. It's like some sort of grotesque amusement park," McCoy said.

  "More like a treasure trove for a historian," said Rizzuto. "I hope when they get better organized they'll beef up the security and limit the number of people tracking through here. Their concept of 'giving it back' to the Boacan people is all very well, but it needs to be protected." He sighed. "How I would love to lose myself in research here."

  "We do not know how much time we will be given to see the palace," Spock remarked, "and we may miss much of it."

  "Very well, men," Kirk said. "Take advantage of this opportunity and go look at anything that interests you. We'll compare notes later."

  They separated in the arch of the hallway and wandered off in different directions, freely exploring the palace with its hodgepodge of styles, more dizzying than Versailles.

  Kirk followed a stream of people slipping through a hidden door in the wall of the corridor. It led to a dark tunnellike hall, and a rickety wooden stair that wound up and down through the palace—obviously a stair for servants. He followed it upward and it led to a long bare room, cramped by a low slanting ceiling, the roof of the palace. Light came in through narrow slats, hidden in the woodwork.