Star Trek - Blish, James - 07

by 07(lit)

  Star Trek - Blish, James - 07

  STAR TREK 7 published July 1972

  WHO MOURNS FOR ADONAIS?

  (Gilbert A. Ralston and Gene L. Coon)

  All heads in the Enterprise bridge turned as the ele-vator door opened.

  Kirk made a bet with himself: it was Lieutenant Carolyn Palamas with her report on those marblelike fragments they'd beamed up from the dead planet in the Cecrops cluster. He won the bet. She handed him some stapled sheets and he said, "Thank you," his eyes carefully averted from the girl's lustrous slate-gray ones.

  Supreme beauty, he'd decided, could be a cruel li-ability to a woman. The stares it attracted set her apart. And he didn't want Carolyn Palamas to feel set apart. If she was the owner of copper-glorious hair and those slate-gray eyes, she was also a new member of his crew and a highly competent archeologist. She'd been stopping traffic since the day she was born. Well, he wasn't adding his gapes to the quota. He said, "Con-tinue with standard procedures for Pollux Four, Lieu-tenant."

  Dr. McCoy appeared to share his defensiveness to-ward the traffic-stopper. "You look tired, Carolyn," he said.

  "I worked all night on my report," she said.

  "There's nothing like a cup of coffee to buck you up," Scott said. "Want to join me in one, Carolyn?"

  She smiled at him. "Just let me get my chemicals back into the lab cabinet first." She left the bridge and Kirk said, "Could you get that excited over a cup of -coffee, Bones?"

  "I'm in love with her," Scott said briefly. As he hastened after her, a slight frown pulled at McCoy's brows. "I'm wondering about that, Jim."

  "Scotty's a good man," Kirk said.

  "He thinks he's the right man for her, but she-" McCoy shrugged. "Emotional analysis of this love goddess of ours shows up strong drives for wifehood and motherhood. She's all woman, Jim. One of these days the bug will find her and off she'll go-out of the Service."

  "I'd hate to lose a good officer, but I never fight nature, Bones."

  Chekov spoke from his station near Kirk's com-mand chair. "Entering standard orbit around Pollux Four, sir."

  On the screen Pollux Four had already appeared, not unearthlike. Continents, seas, clouds.

  "Preliminary reports, Mr. Spock?"

  "Class M, Captain." Spock didn't turn from his mounded computer. Kirk, his eyes on the screen, saw the planet, rotating slowly, come into closer focus. He heard Spock say, "Nitrogen-oxygen atmosphere, sir. Sensor readings indicate no life-forms. Approximate age four billion years. I judge no reason for contact. In all respects quite ordinary."

  Kirk pushed a button. "Cartographic section, imple-ment standard orders. All scanners automatic. All-"

  "Captain!" shouted Sulu. "On scanner twelve!"

  Something had suddenly come between them and the planet-something formless and so transparent Kirk could see the stars through it. It was rapidly growing in size.

  "What in the name of..." McCoy fell silent.

  "Mr. Sulu," Chekov said, "am I seeing things?"

  "Not unless I am, too," Sulu said. "Captain, that thing is a giant hand!"

  Kirk didn't speak. On the screen the amorphous mass had begun to differentiate itself into five gigantic fingers, into a palm, the hint of a massive wrist extend-ing down and out of the viewer's area. "Readings, Mr. Spock." His voice was toneless. "Is it a hand?"

  "No, Captain. Not living tissue."

  "A trick then? A magnified projection?"

  "Not a projection, sir. A field of energy."

  "Hard about!" Kirk ordered briskly. "Course 230 mark 41."

  The palm now dominated the screen, its lines deeply shadowed valleys, the huge, contrasting mounds of its construction simulating the human-size mounds of a human palm. The valleyed lines deepened, moving- and Chekov cried, "It means to grab us!"

  For the first time Spock turned from his computer to look at the viewer. "Captain, if it's a force field-"

  "All engines reverse!" Kirk shouted.

  Lights flickered. Shudders shook the starship. Strained metal screamed. Bridge seats tumbled their occupants to the floor. Scrambling up to wrestle with his console, Sulu grasped it with both hands as he fought to pull it backward. "The helm won't answer, Captain! We can't move!"

  Scott had rushed in from the elevator; and Kirk, regaining his chair, addressed Uhura. "Lieutenant, relay our position and circumstances to Star Base Twelve immediately. Report that the Enterprise has been stopped in space by an unknown force of some kind." He swung his chair around to Sulu. "Mr. Sulu, try rocking the ship. Full impulse forward, then back."

  "Damage report coming in, Captain," said Uhura. "Situation under control. Minor damage stations three, seven and nineteen."

  "Mr. Sulu?"

  "Applying thrust, sir."

  The ship vibrated. "No results, Captain. We're stuck tight."

  Kirk glanced at the screen. The palm still owned it; and stars still shone through it. He looked away from it. "Status, Mr. Spock?"

  "The ship is almost totally encircled by a force field, sir. It resembles a conventional force field but of unusual wavelengths. Despite its likeness to a human appendage, it is not living tissue. It is energy."

  "Thank you, Mr. Spock. Forward tractor beams, Mr. Sulu-and adjust to repel."

  "Aye, aye, sir."

  "Activate now!"

  The ship quivered, groaning. "Ineffective, sir," Sulu said. "There doesn't seem to be anything to push against."

  Spock spoke. "I suggest we throw scanner twelve on the main viewing screen, Captain."

  "Do so, Mr. Spock."

  The palm slid away. In its place, nebulous, still transparent, the features of a great face were shaping themselves into form on the screen. Silence was absolute in the bridge of the Enterprise. The immense face could be seen now, whole. But its immensity struck Kirk as irrelevant. It was an intensely masculine face; and whomever it belonged to was the handsomest male Kirk had ever seen in his life. The dark eyes were fixed on the ship. Diademed with stars, the brow, the nose and mouth conformed to convey an impression of classic beauty, ageless as the stars.

  The voice that came from the screen suited the face.

  "The aeons have passed, and what has been written has come about. You are welcome here, my beloved children. Your home awaits you."

  Kirk shook his head as though to clear his ears of the deep organ tones reverberating through the bridge. He tore his gaze from the screen to address Uhura. "Response frequencies, Lieutenant."

  "Calculated, sir. Channel open."

  He pulled the mike to him. "This is Captain James T. Kirk of the USS Enterprise. Please identify yourself."

  The request was ignored. "You have left your plains and valleys to make this bold venture," said the voice. "So it was from the beginning. We shall remember together. We shall drink the sacramental wine. The pipes shall call again from the woodlands. The long wait is ended."

  The words had the sound of an incantation. Kirk said, "Whatever you are, whoever you are, are you responsible for stopping my ship?"

  "I have caused the wind to withdraw from your sails."

  "Return it," Kirk said. "Then well talk. You seem unwilling to identify yourself, but I warn you we have the power to defend ourselves. If you value your safety, release this ship!"

  The lips moved in an approving smile. "You have the old fire. How like your fathers you are. Agamemnon... Achilles... Trojan Hector..."

  "Never mind the history lesson. Release this ship or I'll-"

  The smile faded. "You will obey-lest I close my hand-thus-"

  The ship rocked like a toy shaken by a petulant child.

  "External pressure building up, Captain," Scott called from his station. "Eight hundred GSC and mounting.
"

  "Compensate, Mr. Scott."

  "Pressure becoming critical, sir. One thousand GSC. We can't take it."

  Savagely Kirk swung around to the screen. "All right, whatever you're doing, you win. Turn it off."

  "That was your first lesson. Remember it," the voice said. The sternness on its face was replaced by a smile radiant as sunlight. "I invite you and all your officers to join me, Captain. Don't bring the one with the pointed ears. Pan is a bore. He always was."

  Kirk said hastily, "Take it easy, Mr. Spock. We don't know what we're up against."

  "Hasten, children," urged the voice. "Let your hearts prepare to sing."

  "Well, Bones, ready for the concert?"

  "Is that wise, Jim?"

  "It is if we want a ship instead of a crushed egg-shell."

  Kirk got up to join his First Officer at the computer station. "You're in command, Mr. Spock. Get all labs working on the nature of the force holding us here. Find a way to break clear."

  "Acknowledged, sir. Beam-down?"

  "Yes, Mr. Spock."

  The party materialized among olive trees. Ahead of them on a grassy knoll stood a small edifice of veinless marble. It was fronted by six fluted columns of the stone, lifting to capitals that flowered into graceful curves. Above them rose the white temple's architrave, embossed with sculptured figures. They looked ancient but somehow familiar. A semi-circled flight of steps led upward and into the structure.

  As Chekov and Scott moved into position beside him, Kirk said, "Maintain readings on tricorders. That goes for everybody."

  Behind him, unusually pale, Carolyn Palamas edged nearer to McCoy. "What am I doing here, Doctor?"

  Unslinging his tricorder, McCoy said, "You're the student of ancient civilizations. This seems to be one. We'll need all the information you've got about it." He moved on to follow Kirk, adding, "The Captain will want us with him when he enters that door."

  There was no door. They found themselves at once in a peristylelike open space. At its far end a dais made a pediment for a carved throne of the same spotless marble. There were benches of marble, a table that held a simple repast of fruit and wine, From somewhere came the sound of pipes, sweet, wild, pagan. On a bench beside the table sat a man-size being. Kirk had seen some good-looking men in his life, but this male, human or non-human, was in a class of his own. His face held the same agelessly classic beauty as the huge image of the Enterprise screen. A thigh-length garment was clasped to his sun-browned, smoothly muscular shoulders. Beside him lay a lyre. He rose to his tall six-foot two-inch height and walked to meet them.

  "My children, greetings. Long, long have I waited for this moment."

  His youth should have made the term "children" absurd. It didn't. He could get away with it, Kirk thought, because of the dignity. The whole bearing of, the creature exuded it.

  Low-voiced, he said, "Bones, aim your tricorder at him."

  "Ah, the memories you bring of our lush and beauti-ful Earth!" The being flung up his arms as though invoking the memories. "Its green meadows... its blue skies... the simple shepherds and their flocks on the hills..."

  "You know Earth?" Kirk asked. "You've been there?"

  The white teeth flashed in the radiant smile. "Once I stretched out my hand-and the Earth trembled. I breathed upon it-and spring returned."

  "You mentioned Achilles," Kirk said. "How do you know about him?"

  "Search back into your most distant memories, those of the thousands of years that have passed... and I am there. Your fathers knew me and your fathers' fathers. I am Apollo."

  It was insanely credible. The temple... the lyre. Apollo had been the patron god of music. And the speech of this being was marked by an antique cadence, an almost superhuman assurance. There was also his incomparable symmetry of body and gesture.

  Chekov broke the spell. "Yes," he said, "and I am the Czar of all the Russias!"

  "Mr. Chekov!"

  "Sorry, Captain. I never met a god before."

  "And you haven't now," Kirk said. "Your readings, Bones?"

  "A simple humanoid. Nothing special."

  "You have the manners of a satyr. You will learn." The remark was made abstractedly. The dark eyes had fixed on Carolyn Palamas. The creature stepped for-ward to lift her chin with his hand. Scott bristled and Kirk said, "Hold it, Scotty."

  "Earth-she always was the mother of beautiful women. That at least is unchanged. I am pleased. Yes, we gods knew your Earth well... Zeus, my sister Artemis, Athene. Five thousand years ago we knew it well."

  "All right," Kirk said. "We're here. Now let's talk. Apparently, you're all alone. Maybe we can do some-thing to help you."

  "Help me? You? You will not help me. You will not leave this place." The tone was final. "Your transportation device no longer functions."

  Kirk flipped open his communicator. There was no responding crackle. The being said casually, "Nor will that device work either, Captain." He paused. Just as casually, he added, "You are here to worship me as your fathers worshipped me before you."

  "If you wish to play god by calling yourself Apollo, that is your business," Kirk said. "But you are not a god to us."

  "I said," repeated the humanoid, "you shall worship me."

  "You've got a lot to learn, my friend," Kirk re-torted.

  "And so have you! Let the lesson begin!"

  Before Kirk's unbelieving eyes, the body of the man-size being began to rise, taller, taller, taller. He towered twelve feet above them-and still grew higher. He was now a good eighteen feet in stature, a colossus of mingled beauty and rage. As the black brows drew to-gether in fury, there came a deafening crash of thunder. The translucent light in the temple went dim, streaks of lightning piercing its darkness. Thunder rolled again. Around the temple's columned walls far above him, Kirk could see that lightning spears were gathering about the great head in a dazzling nimbus of flame.

  Crowned with fire, Apollo said, "Welcome to Olym-pus, Captain Kirk!"

  Dazed, the Enterprise commander fought against the evidence of his senses. His reason denied the divinity of the being; but his eyes, his ears, insisted on its truth. Then he saw that a look of weariness, of pain, had appeared on Apollo's face. The massive shoulders sagged. He vanished.

  It was McCoy who spoke first. "To coin a phrase- fascinating."

  Kirk turned to the girl. "Lieutenant Palamas, what do you know about Apollo?"

  She stared at him unseeingly. "What?... oh, Apollo.He-he was the son of Zeus and Latona... a mortal woman. He was the god of light, of music, of archery. He-he controlled prophecy."

  "And this creature?"

  She had collected herself. "Clearly he has some knowledge of Earth, sir. His classic references, the way he speaks, his-his looks. They resemble certain museum sculptures of the god."

  "Bones?"

  "I can't say much till I've checked out these read-ings. He looks human, but of course that doesn't mean a thing."

  "Whatever he is, he seems to control a remarkable technology," Chekov said.

  "Power is what the thing controls," Scott said. "You can't pull off these tricks without power."

  "Fine. But what power? Where does it come from?" Kirk's voice was impatient. "Scout around with your tricorders and see if you can locate his power source."

  Scott and Chekov moved off and Kirk, his face grown thoughtful, turned to McCoy. "I wonder if five thousand years ago a race of-"

  "You have a theory, Jim?"

  "I'm considering one. What if-"

  "Jim, look!"

  Man-size again, Apollo was sitting on his marble throne.

  "Come to me," he said.

  They obeyed. Kirk spoke. "Mister-" he began. He hesitated, then plunged. "Apollo, would you kindly tell us what you want from us? Omitting, if you please, all Olympian comments?"

  "I want from you what is rightfully mine. Your loyalty, your tribute and your worship."

  "What do you offer in exchange?"

  The dark eyes brooded o
n Kirk's. "I offer you human life as simple and pleasureful as it was those thousands of years ago on our beautiful Earth so far away."

  "We're not in the habit of bending our knees to everyone we meet with a bag of tricks."

  "Agamemnon was one such as you. And Hercules. Pride, hubris." The deep voice was somber with memory. "They defied me, too-until they felt my wrath."

  Scott had rejoined Kirk in time to hear this last exchange. "We are capable of some wrath ourselves," he said hotly.