Black Fire

by Sonni Cooper

  Douglas was livid. "Captain, it's impossible," he shouted.

  Kirk replied in a steely voice. "To find out if something is impossible—try it!"

  The Enterprise followed the rocket, balancing her way through the corridor with the precision of a man on a tightrope. With Kirk at her helm, she made her perilous way through the magnetic fields, balancing carefully so as not to be drawn to either star and a fiery end.

  Kirk looked around at the tense faces of the crew on the bridge. They all reflected intense strain. Each was silently guiding the ship, as if by individual will, through the dangerous passage. Only when Martin announced the sensor readings of the planet ahead did anyone relax, and with a common deep breath they eased their tension. Once more, the Enterprise, whose captain would not be defeated by what seemed impossible odds, had successfully ventured where no man had gone before.

  The crew had mixed feelings about the captain's obsession. Those who knew him trusted his judgment; they knew he would risk death to save his ship. Those who were new on board wondered about his sanity. Kirk wasn't worried about any of their opinions. The decision, and the responsibility, was his.

  Kirk's meeting with McCoy was private. "Just what condition are we likely to find Spock in, if we're lucky enough to find him at all?" he asked.

  "I thought you'd get around to that question soon." McCoy gestured to a chair and the captain sat down. "I'll be blunt. There are three possibilities: one, he's fine."

  "Odds?"

  "I'm not Spock, Jim, but I'd say eighty or ninety to one—against."

  "That bad?"

  The doctor nodded. "Two: The sliver's moved and he's paralyzed. Odds: I'd say an eighty percent probability. Three: He's dead; probability of the injury killing him, twenty percent. All this is conjecture, Jim. He could have been killed by those furry creatures, you know. I'm a doctor, not an actuary!"

  "I know," Kirk said softly. "I know, but I've got to believe we'll find them—alive. If only I had been there when Spock decided to take off …"

  "It's not your fault, Jim. You were barely alive. And I don't like the strain you've been under lately. You aren't made of iron, you know."

  "I was declared fit for duty, Bones. I can handle it, if you'll just help me. Don't put false barriers in the way. Equip yourself as well as you can. I don't know what we'll find."

  "I've already put together a medical kit," McCoy said, anticipating Kirk's request. "I've got everything imaginable in there, including the kitchen sink."

  The ship had to come first on his list of priorities, but Kirk found his priorities becoming confused. He had already chosen between his first officer—no, his friend—and his ship, surprising himself with the ease he had in risking the Enterprise and her crew on a possible wild-goose chase. He had always recognized the complexity of his feelings for Spock. They had always had the military, professional aspects, yet he knew Spock's friendship was one of the most important personal relationships he had had in his adult life.

  Losing Spock was like losing a part of himself. Together, they were in balance: the emotional human sometimes feeling too much, and the logical Vulcan who masked his human side needed the humanity of his friend to be whole. Each complemented the other. He wondered if Spock realized how close they had become.

  Lying in the dark of his cabin, Kirk realized it would be difficult to fully accept Spock's loss. Maybe that's what drove me to this far sector of the galaxy. If I can't find him, or find him dead, I know I'll be able to adjust. I'll function. I'll carry on with my duty. I'll even be able to enjoy life eventually, but I'll miss him deeply.

  Premature gloom, he chastised himself. First we seek, then we adjust to whatever we find—and I will find Spock— I can feel it!

  5

  "It's very tricky, Captain," Leonidas briefed Kirk. "We have managed to keep within a narrow passage between the gravitational pull of both suns. Those life forms are more advanced than we first thought. They managed to find the precise corridor between the magnetic fields."

  Kirk watched the view-screen as Leonidas spoke. "I don't underestimate them, Leonidas. They blew up the Enterprise and lured Spock into their trap. If that's a sample, we're dealing with very dangerous opponents."

  "I can draw a map of this system now, sir. I believe we are coming up on a planet hidden between the two suns. It has to have a strange orbit, trapped as it is." He programmed the ship's computer to render a graphic display of the system derived from the data he had collected thus far. "I'll project it on the view-screen."

  Clearly inspired by his subject, Leonidas explained, "Usually a red giant is not dense enough to have much of a gravitational effect, but this one, having such mass, is different. Because of the gravitational pulls, a planet trapped between the two suns would be in a delicate balance, having an elliptical orbit. The balance would pull it off center, nearer the red sun, but still too close to the small one. It would be impossible to live on the side facing the bright sun. I then assume the planet doesn't rotate but, like our moon, puts the same face toward the red sun all of the time. In that case, it would be very cold at the far end of the orbit, when it is farthest from the red giant. It must be unbearably cold. Possibly, that accounts for the hair growth and their high metabolism. It would keep them from freezing. Somehow this planet must have survived the explosion of the sun when it went red. It must have been on the very edge of the system then, and cold anyway. The creation of the small hot sun must have created havoc. What's amazing is that any life survived at all! It has to be a very inhospitable place, at best—and the people have to be tenacious.

  "I can't tell whether there are any moons—but I would assume, with all that matter having been spewed out, there could be one or more, which would also be trapped in peculiar orbits. It's a really fascinating system, Captain. I know of no other remotely like it. It's a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for an astronomer."

  With the word fascinating, Kirk's heart lurched. Spock would have said that.

  "In order to leave the planet they had to have the ability to plot the fields and avoid the pulls. We're dealing with an advanced technology, Captain. I still don't understand why they use that archaic launch technique."

  "We'll soon find out, Leonidas," Kirk said, stretching his legs straight out, studying the chart.

  "Keptin, there's an object, dead ahead." He put his probe on visual, bringing the picture to the view-screen. "Look, Keptin, dat's it, the planet."

  Kirk grinned with satisfaction. "I see it, Chekov. Keep it steady, approach slowly, and put us in a high orbit."

  "Aye, sir." Chekov began adjusting their course.

  "No, Captain," Leonidas interrupted, "we can't establish a standard orbit. The far side of the planet is too close to the hot sun. Put us in a pace orbit, Chekov."

  Chekov looked to Kirk for approval.

  "Do as he ordered, Chekov. He's the expert."

  Martin continued monitoring the sensors as they established orbit. "There seems to be a high population density in a relatively small area, Captain."

  "That would make sense," Leonidas observed. "It would be too hot to live on the far side of the planet, and most of the habitable side would be too cold. I estimate only a very small area at the equator to be habitable at all, and that area will be very cold for our comfort."

  "Prepare a landing party, Chekov. We're beaming down."

  Chapter lV

  The Pet

  1

  IIsa was beginning the evening task of bathing her interesting diversion: Spock. His passive resistance to her ministrations amused her; she found him a challenge. She'd never taken such an intent interest in a captive before, but Spock's pride and strength, before he was incapacitated by his injury, were admirable.

  Spock understood his position well; he was essentially her pet, an amusement for her. Knowing his admiration for the art objects in her household, IIsa took pains to bring him things to study and enjoy. The area of the room in which he was kept was cluttered with the co
llection. Each article was in itself beautiful, but the entire collection amassed in a small area was offensive to the Spartan Spock.

  Spock looked up as IIsa entered the room. Her smile revealed her delight in tending to him. Bringing a basin of warm water from the hearth, she came toward him for the daily ritual.

  Knowing he had no choice, Spock allowed her to bathe him. He said nothing, trying to withdraw from his humiliation. He found it difficult to remain passive, but logic dictated that the situation called for acquiescence.

  "You are very quiet this evening, Spock."

  He was silent.

  "When I speak to you, you will respond," she scolded, cuffing him.

  His lack of reaction infuriated her; although Spock knew she found enjoyment in pleasing him, he knew she derived amusement in inflicting pain. He couldn't risk angering her.

  "The days are shorter," he commented, "and much colder."

  "We are approaching our coldest season."

  Always calculating the passage of time, Spock estimated that he'd been in IIsa's keeping for a little over a month. She finished her task, combed his hair, and stood back to admire her handiwork. He withdrew further into himself for his continued sanity.

  Whenever he was permitted privacy, he unwrapped the tiny crystal sliver Scott had given him and studied its interesting properties. It generated an energy which disturbed normal biological function, and it could interfere with other transmitted energy. He yearned for a laboratory where he could fully analyze the properties of the substance.

  With the bathing finished and his dignity somewhat restored, he lay flat as he had been placed, between the rich layers of warm fur. IIsa was combing her hair, relaxed and pleased. Spock startled her by initiating a conversation. He had not done that before.

  "Begum, would you grant me a request?"

  She walked over to her captive and stroked his shiny black hair. "If the request is reasonable, I will consider it."

  "I miss my companion—Scott. Could I see him, even for a short time?" He hated to beg, but knew her well enough to know she would derive satisfaction from it. "Please, Begum, it is a small thing I ask."

  "I will think about it, Spock. Now I have something for you to enjoy." She walked out of sight into the alcove, and returned with a vase. "This is our warmest season. All of the plant life on Tomarii now puts forth flowers and fruit. We don't have a great variety of plant life on our planet, but this is the most beautiful."

  Extending out of the vase was a milk-white graceful stem with small heart-shaped leaves attached by slim stems, which fluttered with her movement toward him. A silvery-white seedpod was attached to a lower stem. Another pod, partially open, clung to an upper stem; it contained a number of delicate mauve beans with a splattering of bright red dots. The Begum held the vase in front of Spock for his inspection. He raised up on an elbow to get a better view.

  "It is beautiful, Spock, but deadly. The seedpod and beans are poisonous. It is sad that such a lovely thing should be so lethal. Even a few of the beans can kill. But we can admire its beauty, can't we? Here, I will put it near you so you may enjoy it." She placed the vase containing the plant on a shelf near his pallet.

  The next morning Spock awoke to see the very welcome face of Scott beaming down at him.

  "Ye're a sight," the Scotsman chuckled, "long hair, beard, and if ye got any skinnier we could thread a needle wi' ye."

  "Have you seen yourself lately, Mister Scott?"

  "Aye, I could pass for a Tomariian if ye dinna look too close."

  Turning to a more somber subject, Spock addressed the engineer in a low, intense tone.

  "Mister Scott, I don't know how long IIsa will permit you to stay. It is imperative we have a serious talk. Help me to sit, please."

  "How are ye doing, Spock? Any improvement at all?"

  "No. All sensation is gone. I am unable to move. It is proving awkward and embarrassing, but I have been able to tolerate the inconvenience so far. But my physical well-being is not what I wanted to discuss with you. A sufficient time has passed for us to assume that Placus and the Klingons are not returning for us. I am convinced the Romulan would have returned for Julina if he was able to. It then follows that the escape attempt was unsuccessful or he was killed, which leaves us no hope of rescue. The Klingons cared little for our survival. If it hadn't suited their purpose, they wouldn't have helped us at all. That leaves the matter of escape from this planet to you.

  "It is imperative for you to get back to the Federation. The crystal you gave me to study is a find of significant value. Without complete laboratory analysis I am unable to determine the full range of potential of the crystal, but I am convinced it is of great worth, even with the limited analysis I have been able to perform here.

  "I believe it to be a trilithium crystal, containing one more lithium atom than our dilithium crystals. That in itself should indicate its value—it is a power source beyond anything we have ever possessed. It interferes with biological function, as you experienced when it was embedded in your shoulder, and it also has the ability to neutralize other power sources. As a start, I think you will find it effective in counteracting the effect of the Tomariians' restraining force. If you could obtain a larger sample, it would be of great value to the Federation."

  "Aye, just think of the power we could harness for a starship!"

  "Yes. A crystal the size of your finger could power the Enterprise. I see you realize the import of your discovery, but there is more. I have gotten a great deal of information from IIsa—there are times when she is most garrulous. This planet is the Tomariians' place of origin, but it is dying. They have retained their government here out of a sheer determination to preserve a vestige of their heritage. We are seeing only the central core of government; the bulk of the population is elsewhere. The Tomariians are numerous and present a formidable force when united. As you know, they consider individual lives expendable, rendering them relentless warriors. Their sphere of influence is considerable, and growing. They have concentrated on this sector, but are now looking to a broader region for conquest. They possess numbers, strength, and resources from many different worlds in staggering abundance. We would be hard pressed to defend ourselves against them. You must get back to the Federation to inform them immediately—our Romulan and Klingon allies realized the threat."

  "That all may be true, Mister Spock, but I canna just take off an' leave ye here."

  "That's very unrealistic. You are not able to actually protect me. I am helpless. You must accept the fact that I am expendable and find a way of getting back to the Federation. You have established a good relationship with IIob. It should be relatively easy for you to take advantage of that friendship and escape."

  "No, Spock. Not wi'out ye. The captain would expect me ta get ye out o' here."

  "I am ordering you to leave, Mister Scott. I am your superior officer."

  "And I refuse to obey that order on grounds ye are medically unfit ta command."

  "You aren't a medical officer, Mister Scott. You haven't the authority or the ability to make a medical judgment."

  "Then it's a standoff, Spock. Ye canna force me ta take an order. We're not exactly on the Enterprise, ye know!"

  As the debate intensified, their voices rose, bringing IIsa back into the room to find Scott red—faced with anger and Spock tense with exasperation.

  "Leave!" she ordered. Scott stalked angrily out of the room.

  "Your friend's visit was not what you had hoped. I am sorry. I hoped it would please you. I will see that he does not disturb you again."

  Spock replied softly, "That won't be necessary."

  Alone again, Spock contemplated the alternatives. He had to compel Scott to leave Tomarii. While I live, Scott will not leave. I must make another attempt to remove the deterring factor—myself, he thought coolly. Scott and IIsa both assumed it was Julina who had attempted to take my life. I have permitted that assumption. I must find another way and succeed this time.

/>   Surveying the clutter of artifacts around him, his eyes rested on the vase IIsa had presented to him on the previous evening. In it, the beautiful and deadly plant shimmered with a silver-white delicacy. He reached for the vase, stretching to cover the distance which would put it into his grasp. It took all of his effort to span the last inch, throwing him off balance and onto the cold stone floor. He lay still, waiting to see if anyone had heard him fall. No one had heard.

  Now the vase was within reach. Emptying the opened seedpod, he cupped five small red-spotted beans in his hand. Spock put the beans into his mouth and swallowed deliberately.

  With an almost academic interest in the sensations he should soon feel, the Vulcan lay back on the cold floor waiting for the poison to work. At first there was a flush, a tingling of warmth that caused a light sweat. The poison is acting rapidly—excellent, he thought. Finding it progressively more difficult to breathe, he tried to give in to the respiratory slowdown, but his body's reflex system would not permit it. The autonomic functions took over, forcing him to gasp for breath; he was thrashing with his body's effort to fight the poison. The sound reached the outer hall, and IIsa and a guard ran into the room to find him convulsed on the floor. She took him in her arms, trying to soothe the convulsions. His breath rattled and slowed, and he lapsed into unconsciousness.

  She then saw the toppled vase and the empty seedpod. Realizing what Spock had done, she called for Scott—he was her only hope to save the Vulcan. He will know what to do, she hoped. She lowered Spock from her lap, covered him with the furs, and waited.

  She was feeling compassion; she had learned to care, to want survival for those close to her. It was disturbing and bewildering, yet somehow comforting. She had been introduced to a new way of feeling which had so impressed her it had become a part of her own behavior.

  Studying Spock's still form, IIsa admitted to herself that she was reliant in some way on his continued existence. I will miss him. She felt an unaccustomed chill. He must live!