by James Blish
There was a pedestal in the cabin. Setting the habitat down on it, Spock removed the anti-gravs. At the room's intercom, he said, "Spock to bridge. We have reached the Ambassador's quarters, Captain."
"Thank you, Mr. Spock. Lieutenant Uhura, notify all hands to return to stations." Kirk sighed with relief as he turned to Sulu. "All right, helmsman. Let's take her out. Warp factor two."
"Warp factor two, sir."
In the cabin, Spock, vizored like Miranda, was eyeing the alien habitat. "Dr. Jones," he said, "I should very much like to exchange greetings with Ambassador Kollos."
She smiled. "I am sure the Ambassador will be charmed."
Both of them placed a hand on the box. Then they went perfectly still, each absorbed in deep concentration. After a long moment the lid of the box lifted very slightly—and a light of purest blue streamed through the crack. Leaning forward, Spock peered into the box. Instantly, he recoiled; but after pausing to recover from the sight, he looked into it again. His lips moved in a smile of an almost childlike wonder.
The girl saw the smile. Once more resentment flashed in her eyes. The lid of the box fell. Unsmiling now, Spock said, "I almost envy you your assignment, Dr. Jones."
"Do I read in your thoughts that you are tempted to take my place, Mr. Spock?"
"No. But I feel your mind trying to touch mine, Doctor. Were you born a telepath?"
She nodded. "Yes. That is why I had to study on Vulcan."
"Of course," he said. "May I now show you to your quarters?"
"I'd better remain here a bit. Ambassador Kollos sometimes finds the process of Transport unsettling."
"Our ship's surgeon often makes the same complaint." He pointed to the intercom. "Call when you are ready."
He bowed and left the cabin. Miranda turned back to the habitat. She removed her vizor roughly, her beautiful face disturbed, doubtful, even apprehensive. In the solitude of the cabin, she cried out fiercely, "What did he see when he looked at you, Kollos? I have to know! I have to know!"
The Enterprise had done itself proud. Though dinner was over, hosts and guests still lingered over their brandy at a table elegant with crystal, candlelight, arrangements of fresh-cut flowers. All the officers wore dress uniforms; and Miranda, in silver-embroidered blue velvet, glowed like a blond pearl in the candlelight. Marvick, in civilian white tie and tails, was quiet but observant.
Kirk refilled the girl's brandy goblet. "I can't understand," he said, "why they're letting you go with Kollos."
"They, Captain?"
"The male population of the Federation. Didn't anyone try to talk you out of it?"
The black lashes drooped. "Well . . . now that you ask, yes."
"I'm glad he didn't succeed," Kirk said. "If he had, I'd never have met you." He raised his glass to her. "Tell me, Dr. Jones, why isn't it dangerous for you to be with Kollos? Spock I can understand. Nothing makes any impression on him."
"Why, thank you, Captain," Spock said.
"Not at all, Mr. Spock." He turned back to Miranda. "No other human is able to look at Kollos without going mad, even when vizored. How do you manage?"
"I spent four years on Vulcan studying their mental disciplines."
McCoy spoke. "You poor girl!" he cried with heartfelt sympathy.
Spock looked down the table at him. "Indeed, Doctor! I would say that the lady is very fortunate!"
"Vulcan disciplines are hardly my idea of fun."
"On Vulcan," the girl said, "I learned to do what it is impossible to learn anywhere else."
Smiling, Kirk asked, "How to read minds?"
"How not to read them, Captain."
"I'm afraid I don't understand," Kirk said.
Spock interposed. "Dr. Jones was born a telepath, Captain."
Miranda laughed. "Vulcan was necessary to my sanity, Captain! I had to learn how to close out the thoughts of others."
Spock nodded. "What humans generally find it impossible to understand is the need to shut out the bedlam of others' thoughts and emotions."
"Not to mention the bedlam of even one's own emotions," Miranda said. "On Vulcan one learns to do that, too." She reached out to touch a medallion pinned to Spock's breast. McCoy watched her fingers move over it.
Spock pulled back, fearful of scratching her. "Forgive me," he said. "I forget that dress uniforms can injure."
She leaned toward him. "I was merely interested in your Vulcan IDIC, Mr. Spock. Is it a reminder that you could mind-meld with the Ambassador much more effectively than I could?"
There was an uncomfortable pause. She broke it hastily, explaining, "It would be most difficult for a Vulcan to see a mere human take on this exciting challenge, gentlemen."
"Interesting," McCoy said. "It's a fact, Spock, that you rarely wear your IDIC."
"Bones," Kirk said, "I doubt that our First Officer would don the most revered of all Vulcan symbols merely to annoy a guest."
Spock spoke for himself, looking straight at Miranda. "In fact, I wear it this evening to honor you, Dr. Jones."
"Indeed?" she said.
"Yes," he said, "indeed. Perhaps, despite those years on Vulcan, you missed the true symbology of the IDIC." He placed his hand on the medallion. "The triangle and the circle . . . different shapes, materials, textures . . . they represent any two diverse things which come together to create truth or beauty." He rose, brandy glass in hand. "For example—Dr. Miranda Jones, who has combined herself with the disciplines of my race to become greater than the sum of both!" .
Suddenly uneasy, Kirk saw that his lovely guest appreciated neither the grace nor the sincerity of Spock's gallantry. He changed the subject. "Back to your mission, Dr. Jones. Do you feel a way can be found to employ Medeusan navigators on Starships? It would solve many of our present navigational problems."
"The key is the mind-link learned on Vulcan. Once we learn to form a corporate intelligence with Medeusans, designers of Starships—and that's where Larry Marvick comes in—can work on adapting instruments."
McCoy stirred in his chair. "I don't care how 'benevolent' the Medeusans are supposed to be. Isn't it suicidal to deal with something ugly enough to cause madness? Why do you do it?"
"Dr. McCoy," Spock said, "I see that you still subscribe to the outmoded notion held by your ancient Greeks—the one which insists that what is good must also be beautiful."
Marvick spoke for the first time. "And the obverse of it—that what is beautiful is automatically expected to be good."
"I suppose," Kirk reflected, "that most of us are naturally attracted by beauty as we are repelled by ugliness. It's the last of our prejudices. But at the risk of sounding prejudiced—" He paused to raise his glass to Miranda. "Here's to Beauty!"
All the men rose and drank. McCoy lifted his glass a second time. "To Miranda Jones—the loveliest woman ever to grace a Starship!" He looked around at his fellow males. "How can one so beautiful condemn herself to look upon ugliness for the rest of her life? Will we allow it?"
His answer was a general shout of "No!"
McCoy sat down. "We must not permit her to leave us!"
Miranda was smiling at him. "How can one so full of the love of life as you, Dr. McCoy, condemn himself to look upon suffering and disease for the rest of his life? Can we allow that, gentlemen?"
McCoy tipped his glass to her, sipping from it. "I drink to whatever it is you want most, Miranda."
As Kirk joined in the toast, he noticed how intently Marvick was staring at the girl. He was about to offer her more brandy when he was halted by the look of terror that had abruptly come into her face.
She rose to her feet, crying, "There's a murd—" She broke off and the flower she had been holding dropped to the table.
Kirk caught her arm. "Dr. Jones, what is it?" .But McCoy was already beside her. "You're ill," he said. "Let me help you . . ."
She pulled away, her face slightly calmer. "There's someone nearby thinking of murder," she said.
Shocked silence fell over t
he table. She was clearly serious and Kirk said, "Who is it—can you tell?"
"It's . . . not there now. I . . . I can't pick it up at all."
"Was it in this room?" Kirk said.
She looked around her. "I don't know, Captain. It's gone now." She seemed to have regained her composure. "These things are usually momentary. A common human impulse, seldom acted out."
Spock's quiet voice said, "True. Otherwise the human race would have ceased to exist."
"Captain, do you mind if I say good night now? I'd love to visit your herbarium—but another time, if I may."
"Of course, Dr. Jones. I'll see you back to—"
Spock interrupted. "Perhaps I could see you back to your quarters?"
McCoy was staring curiously at her. "Thank you, gentlemen," she said. "You make a choice impossible. Please stay here and enjoy yourselves. It was a delightful dinner."
"Sleep well, Miranda," Kirk said.
She waved a friendly good night to them. But McCoy, who was still watching her closely, went quickly to her at the door. "Are you sure you're well enough to find your way alone?"
"Yes, Dr. McCoy. Please don't worry about me."
McCoy bowed and, reaching for her hand, kissed it lightly. As the door closed behind her, he said, "Where I come from, that's what's called a 'lady.’“
"She is something special," Kirk agreed.
"Very special! I suggest you treat her accordingly!"
Marvick's sudden outburst startled them all. The man picked up a napkin and dropped it. "I—I have not known Dr. Jones for a long time. But long enough to be aware of her remarkable gifts!" He paused. "Well, it's been a long day for me . . ."
Scott said, "Would you like to stop off in Engineering, Larry? I have a few things to check; and a bottle of Scotch says you can't handle the controls you designed."
"Some other time," Marvick told him.
The door closed behind him. Turning away from it, Kirk looked Spock over. "Spock, you're really dressed up for the occasion. Very impressive."
"I genuinely intended to honor her, Captain." He moved to the door. "Good night, gentlemen."
His face unusually thoughtful, McCoy was still standing at the closed door. He looked at Kirk's handsome face.. "That's not just another girl, Jim. Don't make that mistake."
Kirk grinned. "I can see that for myself, Bones. Anything else?"
"I can't say exactly what it is. She seems very . . . vulnerable."
Kirk was smiling again. "We're all vulnerable, Dr. McCoy . . . in one way or another."
"Yes. But there is something very disturbing about her."
"You'll get no argument from me, Bones. Meaning that she's quite a woman."
"Good night, Jim," McCoy said.
Alone, Kirk returned to the table. He retrieved the flower she had dropped and tucked it into the breast of his uniform.
Miranda's cabin was luxurious. She drifted around it, graceful but aimless, occasionally touching objects, perhaps because she admired them, perhaps to acquaint herself with the room's dimensions and contents. A buzz at her door sounded.
She leaned against it, calling, "Who is it?"
"Larry. I've got to talk to you."
"Larry, it's late..".."
"Please, Miranda. It's important."
She opened the door. "All right. Come in, then."
Marvick's face had the haunted look of a man in desperate need of a drug. Closing the door behind him, he stood silent for a moment, looking at the girl. "I thought that dinner," he said, "was never going to end."
He moved closer to her. She backed away, putting distance between them. "I rather enjoyed it," she said.
"I know you did. I didn't. You were too far away."
"Larry, I'll be further away than that soon." Her tone was intended to be soothing. But it failed to soothe. "Don't speak of that!" Marvick cried. "Don't . . . no, we have to speak of it. There is so little time . . ." He reached for her but she eluded him, maintaining the little distance. "Please, Miranda, don't go with Kollos!"
She sighed. "Larry, we've been over that time and time again. Please accept—"
Marvick tried for lightness but his hunger broke through it. "Don't I know? I've begged you in restaurants, in the laboratory, on one knee, on both knees! Miranda, how can you do this to me?"
"If you would only try to understand . . ."
"What I understand is that you're a woman and I'm a man—one of your own kind! You think that Kollos will ever be able to give you anything like this?" He had her in his arms. The kiss crushed her lips against her teeth. Then his violence suddenly ended. He held her quietly, caressing her hair, her throat, blind to the quickened anger in her eyes.
She freed herself. "You shouldn't have done that," she said coldly.
He ran a distracted hand over his face. "I'm sorry . . . Why, oh why did I ever meet you?"
"I have been honest with you," she said. "I simply cannot love you the way you want me to. And I am going with Kollos. That is final."
"Miranda, in God's name . . .!"
She went to the door. "I think you'd better leave now. I find you exhaust—" She suddenly broke off. Her hand went to her mouth to block a scream.
"So it's you!" she cried.
He lowered his head like an animal at bay. She was at the far side of the room now, her face white with shock. "I didn't know it was you before! Who is it you want to kill, Larry? Me? Larry, you must not keep such impulses to yourself! I can help you . . ."
"So now you want to 'help' me, do you? Well, now I know what a man has to do to get a response from you! A patient is what you want—not a man! Dr. Jones, the great psychologist! Just for a change of pace, try to be a woman for once in your life!"
He slammed the door behind him. Outside at the elevator, he turned and went back. At her cabin, he hesitated before moving on down the corridor. His square jaw hard, he stopped at the door of the Medeusan's quarters. Firmly and deliberately, he pushed it open.
In the cabin's center the habitat still stood on its pedestal. It emitted a steady, pulsing sound. For a moment Marvick stood, tense, his back to it, hand on the door handle. Then he turned to look at the box, his eyes blazing with hatred. The pulsing sound grew louder, as though the box's occupant had been aroused to danger.
There was an instant when fear and fascination combined to immobilize Marvick. It passed. His hand went fast to the phaser at his belt. The lid of the habitat flashed open, enveloping Marvick in blinding light. He staggered, dropping the phaser. The Medeusan reared up. Marvick screamed as his hand whipped up to shield his eyes from the forbidden sight of Kollos.
Miranda sat bolt upright on her sleeping couch. Then her hand went to her throat. Leaping from the couch, she flew to her cabin door. Panic ran with her as she raced down the corridor to Kollos's quarters.
In his light that still filled the room, she saw the phaser. Tears flooded her eyes. Arms outstretched, she went close to the habitat, crying, "Forgive me! Kollos, forgive me!"
The rhythm of the pulsing slowed.
Down in Engineering, Scott was adjusting a control, a yeoman at work nearby. The yeoman turned as the door opened, saw Marvick and signaled Scott. Scott beamed. "Ah, there you are, Larry! So you couldn't resist that little wager!"
Trembling, still in shock, Miranda had found the cabin's intercom. Kirk, listening to her incoherent whispers, jumped from his command chair, shouting, "Lieutenant Uhura, Mr. Spock and Dr. McCoy on the double! The Ambassador's quarters! Notify Security!"
He found two guards already at the door. He banged on it, calling, "Miranda . . . Miranda!"
Spock was arranging his vizor as the door opened. The girl, her own vizor in place, seemed to have recovered some composure. Silently, she passed the phaser to Kirk, lifting the mask from her eyes.
"Has the Ambassador been hurt?"
"No harm was done to him, Captain."
"Do you know who would do such a thing?"
"Larry Marvick."
; Kirk stared. "Marvick? But why?"
"Madness prompted him."
Spock spoke quickly. "Did he see the Medeusan?"
"Yes, Mr. Spock."
"Then insanity is the certain result. Dangerous insanity, Captain."
Kirk ran for the cabin intercom. While he ordered a Red Alert, Scott was turning the ship's controls over to Marvick. "They're all yours, Larry. That Scotch will be in your cabin tonight if you can handle them!"
Kirk's filtered voice reached Engineering. "Captain Kirk to all ship personnel. An attempt has been made to murder Ambassador Kollos. The man is dangerously insane. He is Lawrence Marvick. Be on the watch for him. Kirk out."
Scott's jaw fell. Pulling himself together, he tried to push Marvick away from the controls, but the man's joined fists came crashing down on him with all the force of madness. Scott crumpled. The yeoman leaped for Marvick's back and was smashed to the deck.
The ship groaned under the lash of sudden acceleration. Staggering, Kirk, Spock and McCoy looked at each other. The ship's groan had become a whine when they raced out of the bridge elevator.
"Explain, Mr. Sulu!" Kirk shouted.
"I can't, sir. But we're traveling at warp factor eight point five."
"And still accelerating, Captain," Chekov said.
Spock looked at the helm console. "Our deflectors can't hold unless speed is immediately reduced."
"Lieutenant Uhura, put me through to Engineering!"
She turned to her console, bracing herself against the ship's shuddering. "Captain, they don't answer . . ."
Sulu said, "Warp factor nine, accelerating."
Kirk wheeled to Spock. "Mr. Spock, can you disengage the power from here?"
Spock already lay on his back, reaching inside a wall panel. "We shall try to, Captain. Mr. Chekov, come here, please. I need you."
Uhura turned. "I seem to have Engineering, Captain."
"Put it on the intercom, Lieutenant."
He heard Marvick's voice. It was singing. "We'll make it! We're under way now! We'll make it—and get out of here!"
A maniacal laugh echoed through the bridge.
Kirk hit the intercom. "Security! Get down to Engineering!"