Star Trek - Blish, James - 07

by 07(lit)

  "All right. Spock, give me five minutes and then start piping that music of yours into the Dohlman's quarters." He left; and as Spock's fingers moved over the strings of his instrument, Uhura sighed. "Mr. Spock, that music really gets to me."

  "Yes, I also find it relaxing."

  "Relaxing is the very last word I'd use to describe it," Uhura said. "I'd certainly like to learn how to play that lyre."

  "I'd be glad to give you the theory, Lieutenant. How-ever, to my knowledge no non-Vulcan has ever mas-tered the skill."

  In Elaan's cabin Kirk was wishing he could give her the theory of acceptable table manners.

  He watched her lift a wine bottle from her sumptu-ously spread dinner table, take a swig from it and wipe her mouth with a lovely arm. She swallowed, and replacing the bottle on the table, said, "So the Am-bassador will recover. That's too bad." Then she grabbed a roasted squab from a plate. She bit a mouth-ful of breast meat from it; and tossing the rest of the delicacy over her shoulder, added, "You've delivered your message. You have my leave to go."

  He was fascinated by the efficiency with which she managed to articulate and chew squab at the same time. "I'd like nothing better," he said. "But your glory's impetuous nature has-"

  "That Troyian pig was in my quarters without per-mission. Naturally I stabbed him."

  Kirk said, "You Elasians pride yourselves on being a warrior race. Then you must understand discipline- the ability to follow orders as well as to give them. You are under orders to marry the Troyian ruler and familiarize yourself with the habits of his people."

  "Troyians disgust me," she said. "Any contact with them makes me feel soiled."

  Her cheek was soiled by a large spot of grease from the squab. "It's my experience," Kirk said, "that the prejudices people feel disappear once they get to know each other."

  Spock's music had begun to filter into the cabin. "That has not been my experience," she said, reaching for a rich cream pastry.

  "In any case, we're still faced with a problem."

  "Problem?"

  "Your indoctrination in the customs of Troyius."

  "I have eliminated that problem."

  "No. You eliminated your teacher. The problem re-mains."

  The luscious mouth smiled grimly. How, he couldn't figure out. "And its solution?" she said.

  "A new teacher."

  "Oh." She placed her dagger on the table. "What's that sickening sound?" The pastry in her hand, she rose, went to the intercom and switched off the Vulcan music. Licking cream from the pastry, she said, "And you-what can you teach me?"

  "Table manners for one thing," he said.

  He picked up a napkin, went to her, removed the pastry; and wiped her mouth, her cheek and fingers. "This," he said, "is a table napkin. Its function is to remove traces of the wine and food one has swallowed instead of leaving them on the mouth, the cheek, the fingers-and oh yes, the arm." He wiped her arm. Then, grasping it firmly, he led her over to the table.

  "And this," he said, "is a plate. It holds food. It is specifically made to hold food, as floors are not. They are constructed to walk on." He poured wine into a glass; and held it up. "This is a glass," he said, "the vessel from which one drinks wine. A bottle, your glory, is merely intended to hold the wine."

  She seized the bottle and took another swig from it. "Leave me," she said.

  "You are going to learn what you've been ordered to learn," he said.

  "You will return me to Elas at once!"

  "That is impossible."

  She stamped her foot. "What I command is always possible! I will not go to Troyius! I will not be given to a fat pig of a Troyian as a bride to stop a war!" She lifted the wine bottle again to her mouth. Kirk grabbed it.

  "You enjoy the title of Dohlman," he said. "If you don't want the obligations that go with it, give it up!"

  Her shock was genuine. "Nobody has ever dared to speak to me in such a manner!"

  "That's your trouble," he said. "Nobody has ever told you the truth. You are an uncivilized little savage, a vicious, bad-tempered child in a woman's body..."

  Her fist leaped out and connected with Kirk's jaw. She had pulled her arm back to strike him again when he grabbed it and slapped her as hard as he could across the face. The blow sent her sprawling back on the bed. Shaking with rage, Kirk shouted, "You've heard the truth from me for the first time in your spoiled life!"

  He made for the door-and her dagger hissed past his ear to stick, quivering, in a wall plaque beside his head. He pulled it free; and tossing it back to her, said, "Tomorrow's lesson, your glory, will be on courtesy."

  As he jerked the door closed behind him, she yanked wildly at the table cover. He didn't turn at the sound of crashing crockery.

  He got out of the bridge elevator to see Spock ab-sorbed in his sensor viewer. "Captain, look at this. At first I defined it as a sensor ghost. But I've run checks on all the instrumentation. The equipment is working perfectly."

  Kirk examined the shadow. "Hydrogen cloud reflec-tion?"

  "None in the area. The ghost appears intermittently."

  "Speculation, Mr. Spock?"

  "None, sir. Insufficient data."

  "It's not an instrument malfunction, not a reflection of natural phenomena. A space ship, then?"

  The intercom beeped. Scott's voice was thick with anger.

  "Captain, must I let these-these passengers fool around with my equipment? I know what you said about showing them respect but..."

  "Hang on, Scotty. And be pleasant no matter how it hurts. I'm on my way."

  He was startled himself when he opened the door to Engineering. Elaan and her three guards had their heads bent over the warp-drive mechanism. Scott had somehow got his fury under control. He was saying, "I suppose, ma'am, that even our impulse drive must seem fast-"

  "We are interested in how ships are used in combat, not in what drives them. Engines are for mechanics and other menials."

  Scott choked. "Menials? How long do you think-"

  "Mr. Scott!" Kirk said sharply.

  He strode to Elaan. "Why didn't you tell me you wanted a tour of the engine room?"

  "Do I not own the freedom of this ship? I have granted your men permission not to kneel in my pres-ence. What more do you want?"

  "Courtesy."

  "Courtesy is not for inferiors."

  Kirk said, "Mr. Scott, our chief engineer has re-ceived you into his department. That was a courtesy. You will respond to it by saying, "Thank you, Mr. Scott.'"

  He thought she was going to spit at him. Then she said tightly, "Thank you, Mr. Scott." Her guards stared, dumbfounded. She pushed one. "Come," she said to them and swept out.

  Scott said, "Your schooling, sir, seems to be taking effect."

  A buzz came from the intercom beside them. Spock's voice said, "Bridge to Captain."

  "Kirk here."

  "That sensor ghost is moving closer, sir."

  "On my way."

  His guess had been right. The sensor ghost was a space ship. Kirk studied the instrument for a long moment. Then he raised his head. "The question is, Mr. Spock, whose space ship is it?"

  "No data yet, sir."

  "Captain!" Sulu called. "A distant bearing, sir. Mark 73.5."

  "Maximum magnification," Kirk said.

  The main viewing screen had been merely showing a telescopic blur of a normally stationary star field. Now there suddenly swam into it the sharp image of an unfamiliar but strangely evil-looking space ship.

  "Our ghost has materialized, Captain," Spock said.

  Kirk nodded soberly. "A Klingon warship."

  He returned to his command chair, the gravity in his face deepened. He turned to look at the screen again. "Any change, Mr. Spock?"

  "Negative, sir. The Klingon ship has simply moved into contact range. She's pacing us, precisely matching our sub-light speed."

  Though the bridge screen was equipped to show what was moving outside the Enterprise, it was not equipped to show what w
as moving inside it. Thus, Kirk could not see Kryton move stealthily into the engineering room-and take cover behind the huge mount where Second Engineer Watson was working. In perfect secrecy, the Elasian silently removed the main relay box cover, took a small dial-studded disk from his uniform pouch, adjusted the dials and placed the disk in the relay box. It was as he fitted it that Watson sensed something amiss. Tool in hand, he con-fronted Kryton, shouting, "What are you doing in here?"

  Kryton's fist came up under his chin like a uncoiled spring. Watson crumpled. In a flash, Kryton had the body hidden and huddled behind the mount. Then he went back to work in the relay box.

  In the bridge, Kirk, still concentrated on the Klingon ship's doings, turned to Uhura. "Lieutenant, open a hailing frequency. Identify us and ask his intentions."

  She plugged into her board, shook her head. "No response, sir. Not on any channel."

  "Then continue to monitor all frequencies, Lieu-tenant." He paused a moment. Then he said to Sulu, "Phaser crews stand by, Mr. Sulu." He waited another moment before he added "Maintain yellow alert." He rose from his chair. "Mr. Spock, it's time."

  Down in Engineering, still unknown, unheard, Kry-ton's disk made contact. The lights in the matter-antimatter grille flickered before they returned to full strength. Kirk, on deck five, was walking down the corridor to Elaan's cabin. As he'd expected, two guards stood at her door. But neither was Kryton. A little uneasy he said, "Where is Kryton?"

  "On business," said a guard. Both lifted their weap-ons. "No one may enter the Dohlman's presence," one said.

  "Inform her glory that Captain Kirk requests the honor of a visit."

  "The Dohlman has said I shall be whipped to death if I let Captain Kirk pass through this door." Kirk pushed past them. The weapons leveled. A beam flashed twice. The guards fell; and Spock, phaser in hand, came out of the opposite door. "Have them taken to the Security Holding area, Mr. Spock."

  Spock said, "Captain, how did you anticipate that she would deny you admittance? The logic by which you arrived at your conclusion escapes me."

  "On your planet, Mr. Spock, females are logical. No other planet in the galaxy can make that claim."

  He opened Elaan's door to see her sitting before a mirror. She was absorbed in combing the shining hair. As she saw his reflection in the glass, she flew to the bed where she'd discarded her belted dagger. Holding it high, she rushed at Kirk, its point at his heart. He seized her wrist and she shrieked, "You dare to touch a member of the royal family of Elas?"

  "In self-defense, I certainly do." He removed the dagger and she tried to rake his face with her nails. He closed with her, holding her arms immobilized.

  "For what you are doing the penalty is death on Elas!"

  "You're not on Elas now. You are on my ship. I command here."

  She bit bis arm. The pain took him off guard. His hold on her loosened-and she was gone, fled into the adjoining bathroom, its door clicking locked behind her.

  "That's your warning, Captain!" she called through it. "Don't ever touch me again!"

  "All right," Kirk shouted in answer. "Then I'll send in Mr. Spock or Dr. McCoy! But I'll tell you one thing! You're going to do what you've been ordered to do by Councils, Tribunals and bureaucrats..."

  He'd had it. A Klingon warship in the offing-and here he was, stuck behind a bathroom door trying to make sense to an overindulged brat who had no sense. "I'm leaving!" he yelled. "I'm through with you!"

  She opened the door. "Captain..." She hesitated. "There... is one thing you... can teach me..."

  "No, there isn't!" he roared at her. "You were right the first time! There's nothing I want to teach you! Not any more! You know everything!"

  She began to cry. "I don't know everything. I don't know how to make people like me. Everybody hates me..."

  He was startled into contrition. Genuine tears flooded the dark eyes. It was a sight he'd never thought to see. "Now look..." he said. "It's not that anybody hates you..."

  "Yes, they do," she sobbed. "Everybody does..."

  He went to her and wiped the tear-wet cheeks with his hand. "Stop crying," he said. "It's just that nobody likes to be treated as though they didn't exist..."

  He was suddenly conscious of heat. "Something's wrong with the ventilation of this room... I-I need some air... we'll have a short recess, your glory."

  "Captain..." He turned from the door. The luscious mouth was smiling at him, the pearl-toned arms out-stretched to him. He stared at her for a long moment. Then he went straight into the arms. He kissed her- and the world, the Klingon ship, the High Commis-sioner, all he'd ever known in his life before was as though it had never existed.

  She whispered, "You... slapped me."

  Unsteadily, Kirk said, "We'll... talk about it later..."

  His mouth found hers again.

  Uhura, checking her dials, pushed the intercom button.

  "Bridge to Captain," she said. She glanced over at 'Spock. "Mr. Spock, I'm getting-"

  "I have it on my sensor," Spock said.

  "Bridge to Captain," she repeated, frowning. "Come in, Captain. Captain Kirk, please answer."

  Kirk's voice came, unfamiliar, dazed. "Kirk here."

  "Captain, I'm picking up a transmission from inside the Enterprise. It's on a tight beam aimed at the Klingon vessel."

  Elaan was nibbling at the lobe of Kirk's ear. "Trans-mission?" he echoed vaguely. Her lashes were black. They should have been silver blonde but they weren't. He said, "Stop that." She kissed the ear; and he was able to focus his attention on the intercom long enough to ask, "Can you pinpoint the source of the transmission, Lieutenant?"

  "Spock here, Captain. I am triangulating now. It's coming from the engine room, sir."

  The news broke through his entrancement. "Security to engineering! An intruder! Security alert all decks!"

  He ran for the door and the elevator. In the engine room, Scott met him, his face stricken. He pointed to the body of Watson. "Watson must have discovered the devil after he'd sneaked in here. He got killed for it. He had this in his hand when I found him. It looks like some kind of transmitter."

  Kirk took it. "It's Klingon," he said.

  McCoy rose from Watson's body. "Neck snapped clean, Jim."

  Kirk walked over to where two Security guards, their phasers trained on Kryton, held the ape-jawed Elasian in custody.

  "What signal did you send that Klingon ship? What was your assignment?"

  Impassive, his small eyes bright with scorn, Kryton said, "Captain, you must know I will say nothing. Our interrogation methods are far more excruciating than anything you people are capable of."

  "I'm aware you're trained to resist any form of physical torture." Kirk moved to the intercom. "Kirk to Spock."

  "Spock here, Captain."

  "Mr. Spock, it is Kryton who's been transmitting. He refuses to talk. I'll need you to do the Vulcan mind-meld."

  "Captain!" It was Evans, one of the Security guards. "The prisoner-he's sick..." Kirk whirled to see Kryton clutch at his stomach. The Elasian sagged at the knees-and his hand whipped out to seize Evans' phaser. He reversed it, fired it at himself and disap-peared.

  Stunned, Evans said, "Captain, I'm sorry. But he really seemed-"

  "What was he hiding that was so important he had to die to keep it secret?" Hard-faced, Kirk turned to Scott. "He didn't come in here just to use a transmitter. Scotty, I want you to check every relay you've got."

  "Captain, do you realize how many relays there are in Engineering?"

  "Don't waste time telling me. Do it!" He wasted no time himself in getting back to Elaan's cabin. She took the news of Kryton's suicide quietly. "He's been half out of his mind ever since the an-nouncement of my wedding. He was of noble family- and he loved me."

  "Then he sold out to the Klingons out of jealousy?"

  "Probably." She laid her hand on his heart. "It is mine, is it not? Let us not speak of unimportant mat-ters."

  "There's a Klingon warship out there,
" he told her. "What is it there for? It isn't keeping pace with us just to prevent your marriage."

  She put her silver blonde head on his shoulder. "We should welcome their help against the marriage," she said.

  He grasped her upper arms. "Elaan, two planets, the stability of an entire star system depends on your mar-riage. We both have a duty to forget what happened."

  "Could you do that? Give me to another man?"

  "My orders-and yours-say you belong to that other man. What happened between us was an accident."