Star Trek - Blish, James - 07

by 07(lit)

  Shaken, white-faced and sweating, Cochrane came back to his house. Kirk turned back to McCoy. Nancy was lying quite still.

  "Bones? Is it over?"

  "No. But she's moribund. Respiration highly erratic. Blood pressure dropping. She'll be dead in ten minutes. And I-"

  "You did everything you could, Bones."

  "Are you sorry for her, Kirk?" Cochrane said, still in an icy rage. "Are you really feeling something? Don't bother. Because that's the only way any of us are going to get away from here. By dying!"

  An idea, a forlorn hope, came to Kirk. He picked up the translator and went outside. The Companion was still there.

  "Companion. Do you love the man?"

  "I do not understand," said the feminine voice from the translator.

  "Is he important to you-more important than any-thing? Is it as though he were part of you?"

  "He is part of me. He must continue."

  "But he will not continue. He will cease to exist. By your feeling for him you are condemning him to an existence he will find unbearable."

  "He does not age. He remains forever."

  "You refer to his body," said Kirk. "I speak of his spirit. Companion, inside the shelter a female of our species lies dying. She will not continue. That is what will happen to the man unless you release all of us."

  "I do not understand."

  "Our species can only survive when there are obstacles to overcome. You take away all obstacles. Without them to strengthen us, we weaken and die. You regard the man only as a toy. You only amuse yourself with him."

  "You are wrong," said the translator. Was there urgency as well as protest in that voice? "The man is the center of all things. I care for him."

  "But you can't really love him. You don't have the slightest knowledge of love-of the total union of two people. You are the Companion; he is the man; you are two different things, and can never join. You can never know love. You may keep him here forever, but you will always be separate, apart from him."

  There was a long pause. Then the Companion said, "If I were human... there can be love..."

  Then the creature faded from sight. Kirk went back into the shelter, almost bumping into McCoy, who had been standing behind him. "What did you hope to gain by that?" the surgeon said.

  "Convince her of the hopelessness of it. The emotion of love frequently expresses itself in sacrifice. If love is what she feels, she might let him go."

  "But she-or it-is inhuman, Captain," Spock said. "You cannot expect her to react like a human."

  "I can try."

  "It won't do any good," Cochrane said. "I know."

  From the direction of the cot, a voice said, "Zefram Cochrane." It was Nancy's voice, clear and strong, but somehow as if the use of human lips, tongue and vocal cords had become unfamiliar. They all spun around.

  There stood Nancy Hedford-but transformed, radiant, soft, gentle, staring at Cochrane. The rosy glow of health was evident in her cheek. McCoy raised his medical tricorder and stared at it, thunderstruck, but Kirk had no need to ask what he saw. The Nancy Hedford who had been about to die was not sick at all now.

  "Zefram Cochrane," she said. "We are understand-ing."

  "It's-it's her!" Cochrane said. "Don't you under-stand? It's the Companion!"

  "Yes," said Nancy. "We are here-those you knew as the Commissioner and the Companion. We are both here."

  Spock said, "Companion, you do not have the power to create life."

  "No. That is for the maker of all things."

  "But Commissioner Hedford was dying."

  "That part of us was too weak to hold on. In a mo-ment there would have been no continuing. Now we are together. Now we understand that which you called love-both of us. It fills a great need. That we did not have, we now have."

  "You mean-you're both there in one body?" Kirk said.

  "We are one. There is so much hunger, so much wanting." She moved toward Cochrane, who retreated a step. "Poor Zefram Cochrane. We frighten you. We never frightened you before." Tears formed in her eyes. "Loneliness. This is loneliness. We know loneliness. What a bitter thing. Zefram Cochrane, how do you bear it?"

  "How do you know what loneliness is?" Cochrane said.

  "To wear this form is to discover pain." She extended a hand. "Let us touch you, Zefram Cochrane."

  His hand slowly went out, and they touched.

  Kirk turned his head and said in a low voice: "Spock. Check out the shuttlecraft. The engines, communica-tion, everything."

  "We hear you, Captain," Nancy said. "It is not neces-sary. Your vehicle will operate as before. So will your communications device."

  "You're letting us go?" Cochrane said.

  "We would do nothing to stop you. Captain, you said that we would not know love because we were not human. Now we are human, all human, and nothing more. We will know the change of the days. We will know death. But to touch the hand of the man-noth-ing is as important. Is this happiness, Zefram Cochrane? When the sun is warmer? The air sweeter? The sounds of this place like gentle currents in the air?"

  "You are very beautiful," Cochrane said in a low voice.

  "Part of me understands. Part does not. But it pleases me."

  "I could explain. Many things. It'll be an eye-opener to you." He was alive with excitement. "A thousand worlds, a thousand races. I'll show you everything- just as soon as I learn my way around again. Maybe I can make up for everything you did for me."

  Sadness appeared in Nancy's eyes. "I cannot go with you, Zefram Cochrane."

  Cochrane was stunned. "Of course you can. You have to."

  "My life emanates from this place. If I leave it, for more than a tiny march of days, I will cease to exist. I must return, even as you must consume matter to maintain your life."

  "But-you have powers-you can-"

  "I have become almost as you. The march of days will affect me. But to leave here would mean a cessation of my existence."

  "You mean you gave up everything to become human?"

  "It is nothing... compared to the touch of you."

  "But you'll age, like any other human. Eventually you'll die."

  "The joy of this hour is enough. I am pleased."

  "I can't fly off and leave you here," Cochrane said. "You saved my life. You took care of me and you loved me. I never understood, but I do now."

  "You must be free, Zefram Cochrane."

  Kirk said gently: "The Galileo is waiting, Mr. Coch-rane."

  "But... If I take her away from here, she'll die. If I leave her... she's human. She'll die of loneliness. And that's not all. I love her. Is that surprising?"

  "Not coming from a human being," Spock said. "You are, after all, essentially irrational."

  Cochrane put his arms around her. "I can't leave her. And this isn't such a bad place. I'm used to it."

  "Think it over, Mr. Cochrane," Kirk said. "There's a galaxy out there, waiting to honor you."

  "I have honors enough. She loves me."

  "But you will age, both of you," Spock said. "There will be no more immortality. You will grow old here, and finally die."

  "That's been happening to men and women for a long time... and I've got the feeling that it's one of the pleasanter things about being human-as long as you do it together."

  "You're sure?" Kirk said.

  "There's plenty of water. The climate is good for growing things. I might even try to plant a fig tree. Every man's entitled to that," isn't he?" He paused, then added soberly, "It isn't gratitude, Captain. Now that I see her, touch her, I know. I love her. We'll have a lot of years, and they'll be happy ones."

  "Mr. Cochrane, you may or may not be doing the right thing. But I wish you the best. Mr. Spock, Bones, let's go."

  As they turned, Cochrane said, "Captain."

  "Yes?"

  "Don't tell them about Cochrane. Let it go."

  Kirk smiled. "Not a word, Mr. Cochrane."

  As they settled into the Galileo, Spock said, "I pose you an i
nteresting question, Captain. Have we not aided in the commission of bigamy? After all, the Companion and Commissioner Hedford are now sharing the same body."

  "Now you're being parochial, Mr. Spock," McCoy said. "Bigamy is not everywhere illegal. Besides, Nancy Hedford was all but dead. Only the Companion is keeping her alive. If it withdrew, Nancy wouldn't last ten minutes. In fact, I'm going to report her dead as soon as we hit the Enterprise."

  "Besides, what difference does it make?" Kirk said. "Love was the one thing Nancy and the Companion wanted most. Now they have it."

  "But not for eternity," McCoy said. "Only a life-time."

  "Yes. But that's enough, Bones. For humans."

  "That's a very illogical remark, Jim." As Spock's eyebrows climbed, McCoy added, "However, it hap-pens to be true."

  Kirk grinned and raised his communicator. "Kirk to Enterprise."

  The communicator fairly shouted back. "Captain! This is Scotty. Are you all right?"

  "We're perfectly all right. Can you get a fix on us?"

  "Computing now... yes, locked on."

  "Very good. I'll continue transmission. Assume stan-dard orbit on arrival. We'll transfer up on the shuttle-craft."

  "But what happened, Captain?"

  "Not very much, in the end," Kirk said. "Only the oldest story in the world."

  THE DEADLY YEARS

  (David P. Harmon)

  There was no sign of Robert Johnson when the party from the Enterprise materialized on Gamma Hydra IV. In fact, there was no sign of anybody, and their ar-rival site, which otherwise resembled a Kansas field in mid-August, was eerily silent.

  There were the overbright sun, the varied greens of leaves and grasses, even the shimmer of heat waves over the adjacent meadow. But all sounds of life were missing -insect, animal, human. All that suggested that it was the specified headquarters of the Johnson expedition was a scattering of pre-fab buildings.

  Spock, Kirk noted, was looking troubled too. McCoy said, "Perhaps they weren't expecting us."

  Spock shook his head. "Our arrival was scheduled well in advance, Doctor. An annual check of every scientific expedition is routine."

  "Besides, I had sub-space contact with the leader of this expedition, a Robert Johnson, not an hour ago," Kirk said.

  "Did he report anything wrong, Jim?"

  "No... and yet there was something wrong. I can't quite nail it down, but his conversation was disjointed, somehow, as though he were having trouble sticking to the subject, or was worried about something." Kirk pointed at the nearest building. "Mr. Chekov, check that place. Mr. Spock and I will check that one. McCoy, Scotty, Lieutenant Galway, look around, see if you can find anyone."

  The group broke up. Arlene Galway was looking a little scared, Kirk thought. Well, this was only her first extra-solar planet; she'd toughen in due course. And the circumstances were a little odd.

  Kirk and Spock were about to enter "their" building when a scream rent the air. Whirling, Kirk saw Chekov bursting out into the open, looking about wildly.

  "Captain! Captain!" Chekov's voice had gone up a full octave. Kirk loped forward and grabbed him.

  "What's wrong?"

  "Captain! In there!"

  "Control yourself, Ensign! What is it?"

  "A man, sir! In there!" Cheokov seemed a little calmer. "A dead man."

  "All right, we'll check it. But why the panic? You've seen dead men before."

  "I know," Chekov said, a little ashamedly. "But this one's, uh, peculiar, and frankly, sir, it startled me."

  " 'Scared' might be the better word. All right, Bones, Spock, let's take a look." Kirk drew his phaser.

  The interior of the building was quite dark-not black, but Kirk, coming in from the bright sunlight, had trouble getting used to it. At first, the building seemed quite empty; then he saw some sort of low structure near its end. He approached cautiously.

  Then he abruptly understood what had panicked the unprepared Chekov. The object was a crudely constructed wooden coffin, for which two sawhorses served as a catafalque.

  The body it held might have been Methuselah's. Deep wrinkles made its facial features also indecipherable. The open mouth was toothless, its near-white gums shriveled, its eyes sunk in caverns, flattened under their lids of flabby skin. The body seemed to be mere bones, barely held together by a brown-spotted integument of tissue-paper thinness. Clawed hands were crossed on its collapsed chest.

  Chekov's voice said through the dimness, "I bumped into it walking backward, sir, and I-"

  "I quite understand, Ensign. Rest easy. Bones, what's this?"

  "Exactly what it looks like, Jim. Death by natural causes-in other words, old age."

  "Doctor," Spock said, "I ran a personnel check on the members of this expedition before we beamed-down, and I can assure you that not one of them was..."

  Midway through this sentence Kirk became aware of the shuffling of feet outside the open door. They all turned as Spock's voice trailed off.

  A man and woman tottered toward them, support-ing themselves with sticks. They were stooped and shrunken, the skin of their skulls showing through their thin white hair.

  The man said, in a quavering voice, "They've come to pay their respects to Professor Alvin."

  "I am Captain Kirk of the-"

  "You'll have to speak louder," the man said, cupping his ear with his free hand.

  "I said I am Captain Kirk of the Enterprise. Who are you?"

  "Robert Johnson," said the old man, nodding. "And this is my wife Elaine."

  "That's impossible," Kirk said. "The Johnsons are- how old are you?"

  "Me? I'm... let me see... oh yes, I'm twenty-nine. Elaine is twenty-seven."

  The shocked silence was at last broken by McCoy. "I am a physician. You both need rest and medical care."

  There were only three decrepit survivors of the expedi-tion to be beamed-up to Sickbay and Nurse Chapel's gentle but efficient care. Standing beside McCoy, Kirk leaned over Robert Johnson's bed.

  "Can you hear me, Dr. Johnson?"

  The filmed eyes found his face. "Not deaf yet, you know. Not yet."

  "Have you any idea what happened?"

  "What happened?" Johnson echoed vaguely.

  "Did your instruments show anything?"

  The. old mind was wandering. As though appealing to some benevolent but absent god, Johnson said, "Elaine was so beautiful... so beautiful."

  "He can hear you, Jim, but he can't understand. Let him rest."

  Kirk nodded. "Nurse Chapel, if any of them seem lucid, we'll be in the briefing room." He went to the intercom. "Kirk to bridge. Mr. Spock, Commodore Stocker, Dr. Wallace, to the briefing room, please. Bones, I'll ask you to come along."

  Janet Wallace and George Stocker were distinguished guests; he an able administrator in his mid-forties, she an endocrinologist, in her late twenties and extremely attractive. They were waiting with Spock at the big table when he and McCoy arrived. He nodded to them all and sat down himself. "Commodore Stocker, I've asked you to this briefing because Gamma Hydra Four falls within the area of your administration."

  Trim, competent-looking, the tall man said, "I ap-preciate that, Captain."

  The merest hint of constraint came into Kirk's voice as he spoke to the dark-eyed girl who sat next to the Commodore. "Dr. Wallace, though you are a new mem-ber of our crew, your credentials as an endocrinologist are impressive. In this situation we face, I'd appreciate your working closely with Dr. McCoy."

  She smiled at him. "Yes, Captain."

  He turned hastily to McCoy. "Fill them in, Bones,"

  McCoy said, "The survivors of the expedition to Gamma Hydra Four are not merely suffering from extreme old age. They are getting older, much older by the minute. My examinations have shown up nothing. I haven't a clue to the cause of this rapidly aging process."

  "Mr. Spock, what about environment and atmo-sphere?"

  "Sensors show nothing inimical to human life, sir. The atmosphere screens out the usual amount
of harm-ful cosmic rays."

  "We are close, though," Kirk said, "to the neutral zone between our Federation and the Romulan Confederation. The Romulans may have a new weapon. Perhaps they have been using members of the expedition as guinea pigs."