Star Trek - Blish, James - 06

by 06(lit)

  Kirk found his voice, but it was unfamiliar, hoarse, distorted by the mask. "We had a bargain. Why are you breaking it?"

  "Did you really think I would trust you, Captain?"

  "I trusted you," he said.

  "You thought you'd tricked me with your talk of unseen gas and filters. I don't believe in it any more than Plasus does."

  "Then you are a fool," Kirk said. "The filters can free you just as I said they could."

  "Only weapons will free us," she retorted. "And you have just furnished us with two valuable ones. Yourself-and this." She touched the phaser in her belt

  "Holding me will not help you. My men will still come for the zenite consignment."

  She laughed. "Without that," she said, pointing to the communicator, "you will be hard to locate."

  "They will find me," Kirk said.

  "Perhaps." She removed his mask and draped it over a mortae thrust into a crevice on the wall. "I don't think you will be needing this." Then she had a second thought, and taking the mask down again, handed it to Anka. "Send this to Plasus. It will inform him that we have more to bargain with than our mortaes and thongs."

  Anka's eyes brightened. "You are clever, Vanna. Very clever."

  He hurried out of the cavern and she turned to Midro. "Go to the other mines and tell the Troglytes to post watchers. Search parties may be coming soon."

  Midro pointed to Kirk. "What of him?"

  Vanna drew the phaser from her belt. "I will see that he does not escape."

  "If we kill him," Midro said, "there'll be no need to see to that."

  "A dead hostage is useless," she told him.

  His face set stubbornly. "Only the Troglytes need know."

  "I brought him-and I will say what is to be done."

  "You're not the only Disruptor," Midro said sullenly. "I too can say."

  "Can you do nothing but argue?" she cried impa-tiently. "Hurry-or the searchers will be here!"

  "When Anka returns, we will all say." Nevertheless, he left.

  Vanna kept the phaser leveled on Kirk. "Now, Cap-tain, dig," she said. "Dig for zenite as the Troglytes do. I will give you a lesson in what our lives are like."

  Silently, Kirk turned to the wall. It proved to be hard work. There was a bag on the floor in which he was told to put the chunks of ore; it took him a long time to get it half full. Vanna watched, smiling, as immaculate Captain James Kirk of the Starship En-terprise tore a nail on a bleeding finger.

  "Is that what the Disruptors are working for?" he said. "The right to kill everyone?"

  "Midro is a child."

  "The filter masks could change that."

  "Keep digging. You do it well, Captain. The unseen gas doesn't seem to be harming you."

  "It takes a while for the effects to become noticea-ble." He straightened his aching back. "How long do you plan to keep me here? Providing Midro doesn't kill me, of course."

  "Until we have help in the mines and our homes in the clouds."

  "That might be quite a while." Kirk loosened anoth-er chunk of ore. "Longer than I can wait!"

  He hurled the rough lump full in her face. She staggered back with a cry, and a moment later Kirk had wrested the phaser from her. He leveled it at the cavern entrance and fired. The boulders supporting it disintegrated, and the whole upper portion of its walls crumbled with a crash, sealing the entrance with a massive pile of rubble.

  "You have trapped us!"

  "Obviously."

  "But soon the atmosphere will go! We will die!"

  "Die? From something we cannot see or feel? You astound me, Vanna." He picked his way over the rubble to his communicator. As he had rather expect-ed, it was unharmed; these instruments had been designed for rough use. "Kirk to Enterprise."

  "Spock here, Captain. Is anything wrong?"

  "Nothing. Are you locked in on me?"

  "Locked in, sir. Ready to beam up consignment."

  "Circumstances dictate a slight variation, Mr. Spock." Kirk eyed Vanna warily. "Hold on these coor-dinates. Locate the High Advisor and beam him down to me immediately. Without advance communication. Repeat-without advance communication."

  "Instructions clear, sir. We'll carry through at once. Spock out"

  "You will seal Plasus in here also?" Vanna had gone rigid with alarm.

  "I am preparing a slight demonstration of the effects of unbelieved gas," Kirk said. He waited. After a moment, the cavern shimmered and Plasus materi-alized. Such fury shook him when he saw Kirk that at first he failed to register the greenish darkness of his surroundings.

  "Abduction of a planetary official is a serious crime, Captain! You will pay for it, I promise!"

  Awe struggled with the alarm on Vanna's face. Kirk leveled the phaser at them both. "Not till you're convinced of the effects of zenite gas, Mr. Advisor."

  "What effects? I see no change in either of you!"

  "You need closer exposure." He waved to the half-filled bag at the cavern wall. "Fill that container."

  "You suggest that I dig zenite?"

  Kirk waved the phaser. "I insist, Mr. Advisor."

  Plasus' fists clenched. "You will indeed pay for this, Captain." After eyeing the steady phaser for a mo-ment, he turned to the wall, and began to scrabble at the open zenite lode. It was quickly obvious that he had never done any physical labor before in his life.

  Kirk's jaw hardened, and he smiled a cold, thin smile. He felt strangely vindictive, and was enjoying it. "You too, Vanna."

  She stared at him for a moment, and then obedient-ly turned also to the wall.

  Time passed. After a while, the communicator beeped. "Enterprise to Captain."

  "What is it, Spock?'

  "Contact check, sir. May I remind you that there are only five hours left to-"

  "Your orders were to stand by. Carry them out."

  "Standing by."

  Kirk clicked out. Both his laborers were beginning to show signs of exhaustion. Vanna leaned against the wall for a moment. "I grow faint," she whispered. "The oxygen is going."

  "She is right," said Plasus, panting. "You must have us transported out of here."

  "Dig."

  "You imbecile! We'll die!" Plasus cried.

  Kirk backhanded him. "I said, dig!"

  Knocked back against the wall, arms spread, Plasus snarled, an animal at bay; all trace of the urbane ruler of Ardana had vanished. "I will take no more orders!" He lurched forward.

  Kirk jerked the phaser. "Another step and I'll kill you."

  Vanna stared at Kirk's distorted face. "Captain- the gas!" she choked out "You were right! It is affecting you!"

  Plasus took the cue. "Are you as brave with a mortae as you are with a phaser?" he taunted.

  Infuriated, Kirk tossed the phaser to the floor. Plasus scooped two mortae from the rock ledge, and one in each hand, charged Kirk like a clumsy bull, slashing. Kirk dodged, grabbed Plasus' right wrist and tumbled him with a karate twist. The head struck rock. The two mortae clanged on the floor and Kirk leapt for Plasus' throat. As he fell on the High Advisor, the communicator dropped from his belt.

  Vanna grabbed it and began shouting. "Enterprise! Enterprise!" It remained dead. Vanna shook it, and then found the switch. "Enterprise! Help! They will kill each other! Help us."

  For a moment, nothing happened. Kirk's fingers lightened on Plasus' throat Then the cavern shim-mered out of existence, and he found himself wres-tling on the Transporter platform of the Enterprise.

  "Captain!" Spock's voice shouted. "Stop! The gas--"

  Kirk let go and got groggily to his feet. "The gas? What gas?" He looked around, almost without recogni-tion. The Transporter Room was full of armed securi-ty guards. Vanna was cowering; Plasus was crawling off the platform, all defiance fled. It had been a near thing.

  The Council gallery of Stratos City resembled a first rehearsal reading of a play, Kirk thought. The whole cast was assembled. He hoped they had all learned their lines.

  "I understand you are going to
get what you came for," Plasus said.

  "Yes, Mr. Advisor."

  "The zenite will be delivered exactly as I agreed," Vanna said.

  But Plasus hadn't yet learned all his lines. He turned on her. "The word 'agreed' is not in the Tro-glyte vocabulary."

  "The Captain will have bis zenite."

  "No thanks to any agreement by you. It had to be obtained by force."

  "Force has served your purpose at times," she said.

  "And bribery," Plasus said, stubborn to the last, "Those masks."

  Kirk had had enough. "The masks will be very effective, Mr. Advisor. The Troglytes will no longer suffer mental retardation and emotional imbalance."

  "No," said Plasus. "They will all be like this one-- ungrateful and vindictive."

  As he spoke, two sentinels entered the gallery stag-gering under the weight of an immense box. "There," Vanna said, "is the zenite. My word is kept."

  "As mine will be," Kirk said. "Thank you, Vanna." He took out his communicator. "Kirk to Enterprise...

  Mr. Scott, the zenite is here in the Council gallery. Have it beamed up immediately... Mr. Spock-"

  He broke off. Spock and Droxine had drifted to the balustrade. The hand of Ardana's incomparable work of art was on Spock's arm.

  "I don't like 'filters' or even 'masks,' " she was saying. "I think the word 'protectors' is much better, don't you, Mr. Spock?"

  "It is less technical," he told her. "And therefore, less accurate." He looked down at the hand on his arm. "But perhaps it is more generally descriptive of their function."

  " 'Protectors' is more personal," she said. "I shall be the first to test them. I shall go down into the mines. I no longer wish to be limited to the clouds."

  "There is great beauty in what lies below. And there is only one way to experience it, madame."

  "Is your planet like this?" She looked up at him.

  "Vulcan is quite different," Spock said. His back was stiff.

  "Someday, I should like to see it."

  "You cannot remain on Stratos," Spock replied, "if you wish to make a real test of... a protector."

  Kirk judged it time to intervene. "Mr. Spock, I think it is time. We've got just three hours to get the zenite to Marak II."

  Spock turned from the balustrade. Removing the white hand from his arm, he bowed over it. Then he straightened.

  "To be exact, Captain," he said, "two hours and fifty-nine minutes."

  THE MARK OF GIDEON

  (George F. Slavin and Stanley Adams)

  "It appears to be Paradise, Mr. Spock," said Kirk, handing back the folder of Federation reports and stepping onto the Transporter platform. "It's taken Gideon long enough to agree to negotiating member-ship in the Federation."

  "I'll be interested in hearing your description, Captain," said Spock, taking his place at the console. "Since they have not permitted any surveillance, or any visitors, you appear to be uniquely privileged to visit Heaven early."

  "You won't have long to wait," said Kirk. Uhura's voice replied at once to Spock's request for coordi-nates. Spock set the levers at 875; 020; 079.

  "Let's go, Mr. Spock."

  "Energizing, Captain." Spock did not, of course, smile at Kirk's eagerness to be off.

  The Transporter Room shimmered, then steadied. Nothing seemed to have happened.

  "Mr. Spock," said Kirk, stepping from the platform. "Mr. Spock?" There was no one in the Transporter Room but himself.

  He clicked the intercom button. "Mr. Spock, I have not been transported down, and why have you left your post before confirming? Mr. Spock, answer me..."

  This was not at all according to regulations. An-noyed, Kirk stamped out of the Transporter Room and headed purposefully toward the bridge. There was nobody there either.

  He hit the intercom with increasing irritation. This is the Captain speaking. All bridge personnel report immediately." He folded his arms and waited; there had better be one hell of an explanation. Nothing happened. He switched on the intercom again, alter-nately calling Engineering, security, Dr. McCoy, and listening. There was only silence.

  "Lieutenant Uhura, report to the bridge immedi-ately."

  The viewing screen showed only the planet Gideon exactly as he had just seen it before stepping onto the Transporter, a perfectly ordinary M-type planet peacefully poised in the screen. The readouts and lights on the bridge consoles continued to operate in their usual conformations.

  "Captain Kirk." The smooth voice of Prime Minister Hodin emerged from the communication screen. "The Council is still awaiting your arrival."

  A plump figure rose to its feet from among the Councillors of Gideon.

  "This discourtesy is unforgivable!" he snapped. "Doesn't your Federation recognize that first impres-sions are most important?"

  Spock blinked. "Captain Kirk was transported down minutes ago, sir."

  "That's impossible."

  "I transported him myself," said Spock firmly.

  "He never arrived here," said Hodin, evenly. Spock stared at Scott, and turned back to the screen.

  "He was beamed directly to your Council Chamber. Please check your coordinates, Prime Minister."

  Hodin read out from a slip of paper, "875; 020; 079."

  Scott nodded.

  "Somethings' gone wrong with the Transporter," said Chekov. "Captain Kirk's lost somewhere between the Enterprise and Gideon." His voice rose; Speck's ex-pression remained impassive. The planet hung in the viewscreen, enigmatic.

  The Prime Minister was speaking insistently. "We provided you with the exact coordinates for this room, Mr. Spock. And that is all we were obligated to do. If he is not here it is your own responsibility and that of your staff."

  "I do not deny that, Your Excellency. I was not attempting to blame your personnel."

  "We are glad to hear that, sir." Hodin's voice sound-ed almost smug. "We are, in fact, inserting it into the records of this... most unfortunate event."

  "Your Excellency, with intricate machinery so deli-cately balanced as ours, there is always a margin for error," Spock said sharply. "Captain Kirk may have materialized in some other part of Gideon."

  Hodin said, "Let's hope it was dry land, Mr. Spock."

  "Your Excellency, to cut directly to the point, I request permission to beam down and search for the Captain."

  Hodin sat back, hands on the table before him. "Permission denied, Mr. Spock. Your Federation is well aware of our tradition of isolation from all con-taminating contact with the violence of other planets..."

  "Your Excellency, the wars between star systems no longer prevail in our galaxy. If you will grant permis-sion..."

  "We shall institute a search immediately. In the meantime I suggest you look to your machinery."

  "We have already done so, sir," Spock's voice was now extremely controlled. "With regard to permission to land..."

  But the Council Chamber had vanished from the screen.

  "We must once and for all acknowledge that the purpose of diplomacy is to prolong a crisis," said Spock, deliberately closing the switch.

  "What are we waiting for, Mr. Spock? We're not diplomats," McCoy flung himself on a chair.

  "We are representatives of the Federation, Doctor."

  "That doesn't mean we have to sit here like school-children and listen to a damfool lecture by some... dip-lo-mat."

  "Unfortunately, diplomacy is the only channel open to us at the moment. This planet is shielded from our sensors; we cannot observe it. Therefore we are unable to select coordinates. They have to be given to us. We are bound by Federation's agreements with Gideon." Spock turned to Lt. Uhura. "Contact Starfleet imme-diately. Advise them of this problem and request permission to use every means at our disposal to locate the Captain."

  "D'ye think he's there, Spock?" said Scott. "Or are there any other possibilities?"

  "They are endless, Mr. Scott."

  "Where do we start?" said McCoy helplessly.

  Spock leaned over Sulu's console. "Insti
tute three-hundred-and-sixty degree scan, Mr. Sulu-one degree at a time."

  "You're going to scan space for him? But sir, that could take years!"

  "Then the sooner you begin, Mr. Sulu, the better," said Spock grimly.