To any outside observer, the two groups could benefit from trade with each other, but first the initial barrier of distrust had to be hurdled. Pike had been able to act as a mediator between Farnah’s tribe and the townspeople of Sendai by the simple expedient of suggesting the nomads set up a colorful camp outside Sendai’s walls and open a bazaar as they would do among their own people at a tribal oasis. The townspeople had been wary of this activity outside their walls, until they had seen it was peaceful—and the food smelled good—and the merchandise seemed so very attractive and unique to their experience. A day [135] and a half later, Farnah and his makleh, Berendel, welcomed a contingent of Sendai’s leading merchants headed by Melkor Aliat. The initial group was soon followed by a larger one that discovered there was room to deal and trade, with each side the better for the barter. Pike had slipped quietly away that night, knowing that communications lines were open and the two groups were on their own and on their way.
Chris Pike mentally reviewed most of this history as he trudged through the sand in the direction of Farnah’s camp, guided by the sun. He sighted the low huddle of ucha-hide tents in the middle distance and moved quickly toward them, expecting the warm welcome extended to anyone who came to a nomad tribe with an open hand and a peaceful heart.
What he walked into was chaos.
Farnah’s voice was bellowing in anger and frustration from the main tent. Pike could hear the more gentle tones of Farnah’s wife, Ingarin, saying something else, only to be drowned out in another roar of rage from the chief. A gabble of secondary male voices chorused Farnah’s outrage. Other tribesmen and women huddled in groups, looking toward the main tent, murmuring together in low tones, shaking their heads. The makleh, Berendel, spotted Pike and came toward him with the traditional carelessly graceful hand gesture of welcome that moved from belt level out to the right, ending with the palm up and open. It showed that the greeter held no weapon to use against the visitor.
“You grace us again, Indallah Krees.” Indallah meant “wanderer.” He had used his first name, which [136] sounded more like a nomad name than his last. Berendel would not ask where he had been in the interim when he had not been seen. It would be up to him to inform her, if he wanted to. The smile on her face was genuine and attractive. Berendel was a striking woman, with sharp hazel eyes, fine aquiline nose, and sculptured cheekbones. Pike guessed she was somewhere in her forties, lean and wiry, her skin weathered by the sun and the wind.
“It is you who grace me with your welcome, Makleh Berendel,” Pike replied. Another bellow of rage erupted from the main tent, and his eyes involuntarily shifted there. “I hope there is no trouble visited on the tent of Shinsei Farnah.”
“Trouble and grief, friend Krees,” Berendel said. “His daughter has disappeared in the night.”
Pike’s mind spun back over four years. He remembered that Farnah and Ingarin had five strong sons and one daughter. “The little sprite with the big dark eyes—Silene?”
“The joy of the shinsei’s life,” Berendel agreed. “And not so little now.” She looked around as Farnah burst out of the tent and surged toward the tethered meercans, followed by his wife, his five sons, and their wives. “Come, you must see him now.”
“He is distracted—”
“He will not become less so, Indallah Krees.”
Berendel set off toward Farnah, and Pike had no choice but to follow her. She waved and called out to the shinsei, bidding him to see who had come to the camp. The big man looked around in anger, and his face twisted into something that was near a welcome [137] when he saw who it was. Hospitality was important, especially toward one who had lodged in their tents before. He hitched himself around to face Pike and Berendel as the makleh led Pike to him. The others of the family waited on Farnah’s response. With an effort, he made the welcome gesture, which Pike returned to him. “You grace us again,” Farnah grunted.
“You offer me grace, shinsei,” Pike said politely. “I hear from Berendel that you have suffered a loss.”
Farnah’s anger rose again. “My child ... my desert flower ... my only daughter ... kidnapped!”
Ingarin shook her head and stamped her foot, determined to be heard. “She has not been kidnapped, my man. Your sons have told you two meercans are gone from the tether line. There is no sign of a struggle, and only one set of tracks from our tent to where the meercans were tied. Every other member of the tribe is here, willing to take up chase after her. I tell you she has run off.”
“Why should she run away from her home, her parents, her brothers?”
Ingarin glanced at Berendel in the timeless look that women share when they clearly want to shout, “Men!” Berendel dropped her eyes and pulled her head once to the right, half a negative shake, eloquent in its briefness. Ingarin turned back to Farnah, almost equal to her husband in size and certainly equal in her anger, now directed at him. “Why does any nomad woman leave her home? For a man.”
“What man? Name him!”
Ingarin poked Farnah in the chest. “Do you not [138] remember three grazings ago when we came near Sendai for the trading? Silene came to us, shyly, ashamed to tell us what was in her heart.”
“She said she was drawn to a town boy,” Farnah snapped, as if it were not worthy of his attention.
“And you raged in anger and forbade her ever to see him again.”
Farnah shrugged, dismissing it. “She agreed she would obey. What of it, woman? Silene has been content to do her duty as daughter of this house ever since.”
Ingarin shot another glance at Berendel and one at Pike, looking for support. “She said she would obey. She seemed to be content. But we are a half-day’s travel from Sendai and a new trading, and Silene—”
“Has been kidnapped by that upstart cur!”
“Silene has run off to meet him. Or perhaps some other, though I doubt that. We cannot know her heart, but whoever she went to, she went voluntarily. I risk the good of my word on that.”
“The tracks seem to say our mother’s words are true, Father,” one son ventured.
Farnah turned on him angrily, still unable to accept that his precious jewel of a daughter could do such a thing. “Then this boy has used Silene’s innocence and trust to persuade her to run away with him. To ruin her and leave her. These townsmen are not to be trusted.” He glared at Pike, and the captain hoped fervently that Farnah did not remember that Pike had subtly encouraged the traffic between town and tribe.
Berendel moved slightly, a gesture toward Pike. “Indallah Krees has come from the direction Silene [139] appears to have taken, shinsei. Perhaps he has seen something.”
Pike quickly reviewed the look of the terrain he had hiked over. He had seen no tracks leading out toward him until he had neared the encampment. “I camped two kilometers from here when night fell, shinsei. I was tired and fell asleep soon after dark. I heard nothing in the night, but perhaps weariness took hearing from me. I saw no tracks when I came to you until I came on some meercan trail back there.” He gestured over his shoulder.
“Asleep and heard nothing, eh? It is easy to die in weariness if mutants or other marauders are about, friend Krees.”
“I will sleep lighter in the future, shinsei.”
“Enough. We will trail the meercans and catch up with my disobedient daughter and this boy, if that is who is with her. You spoke with those trademen, Krees, did you not?”
“When first you went to trade, yes.”
“I have never spoken with them. But perhaps you and Berendel can deal with them if need be. We must get Silene back.”
“I’ll do all I can,” Pike said quietly. The girl had surely complicated things—the boy, too, if Ingarin was correct that it was a plan the two of them had hatched. But if the girl could be brought home none the worse for the adventure—or if some suitable resolution could be worked out—perhaps the promising trade agreements between Farnah’s tribe and the Sendai townspeople might not be jeopardized. Strangers were welcomed into the
tribe and often through [140] marriage. But Pike did not know who or what the boy was or his motives, and his welcome might be dubious at best. If the young man could not adapt to the tribe, he would be cast out, and Silene would be shamed. Her shame would rebound on her father and cost him honor, possibly the leadership of the tribe.
Although the wind had blown much of the night, it had been fairly gentle, and the meercans’ tracks were deep. The partially filled-in hoofprints were still clearly visible to trackers with the experience of Farnah and his sons. Ingarin was left to follow on with the other families and the herds. Berendel and Pike mounted meercans and accompanied the main group of trackers which would travel far more quickly.
At first, the tracks headed almost directly for Sendai, as Farnah expected. There was no discernible trail leading from the city to the nomad encampment, and it seemed to prove Ingarin’s contention that Silene had taken the two. meercans (“Farnah’s best,” Berendel had confided to Pike) and gone to Sendai to meet someone.
Then the tracks began to veer to the east, away from the city. Farnah deliberated over them with his sons and included Pike in the conversation.
“Perhaps someone else stole the mounts and Silene as well,” the youngest son, Neepah, suggested.
“But you say no one else is missing from the camp,” Pike pointed out. “And these tracks say no one came from the city for her.”
There was a nod of agreement all around. Finally, Farnah’s eldest son, Durlin, spoke up. “Father, if we continue in this direction, we will end at Antorin Oasis.”
[141] “I see it in the trail,” Farnah agreed. “But why should Silene ride to our spring encampment if she was to meet the town boy?”
“It is within walking distance of Sendai,” Berendel pointed out. “A safe meeting place for both, perhaps?”
“Silene was lured there,” Farnah said with finality. “Great promises must have tempted her there in spite of my orders.”
Berendel murmured quietly to Pike, “Great promises or perhaps great love.”
“You are often the matchmaker for the tribe, makleh. Do you believe in love?”
She smiled slightly. “The girl was of an age to be bonded, and several young men were interested in her. No one spoke of love, only of the size and value of her dowry. Silene spoke to her mother of her caring for the town boy. Why do you think the girl has gone?”
“I think you’re quite right.”
It was midafternoon, a quiet time on the Enterprise. She held steady in standard orbit, no navigation required, very little monitoring of instruments. Meadows was counting on the peaceful ordinariness of the day to assist him. He was taking a huge risk but one he justified to himself as absolutely rational and entirely called for. The security man at the vault appraised Meadows as he approached. Meadows recognized him as Security Officer Reed. This could be difficult. Meadows had been hoping for a less experienced officer, but he intended to carry his plan through nonetheless.
“Good day, sir,” Reed said politely.
[142] “Hello, Reed,” Meadows said casually. “I’ve come for the Glory.”
Reed shot a curious look at him and frowned, but Meadows was already offering him the clipboard he carried under his arm. “Captain Pike’s authorized me to evaluate and document it for the library-computer records. You know, measure it, weigh it, holograph it, that sort of thing.”
“Yes, sir, I understand.” The security guard examined the authorization clipped to the board. The captain’s signature was clear at the end of the order.
Meadows felt a bead of sweat roll down his chest and hoped his face wasn’t perspiring as noticeably. He had worked for hours on the signature, carefully copying it from departmental orders Pike had previously signed. The scrawled “Christopher” was lumpy and descended from the initial clear letter into a wavy line. “Pike,” however, was written strongly and firmly, as though the surname meant more to the writer than the given one.
Reed looked up again and smiled. “Everything seems to be in order, sir.” He turned and, shielding the electronic combination from Meadows’s view, entered the number and letter series that would unlock the vault. The heavy door swung open, and Reed stepped inside the big safe. He appeared a moment later with the Glory in its carrying case. “Here you are, Commander Meadows.”
Meadows took it, thanked him, and started to turn away. “Commander.” Reed’s voice stopped him in his tracks. “How long do you think it will be before you return it? I’ll have to put it in my report.”
“Oh. Oh, yes. I would say three hours to do the job [143] properly, but it might take longer. That’s all right, isn’t it?”
“Certainly, sir.” Reed smiled and gave him a friendly half-salute. “Just be careful with it.”
“That goes without saying, Officer Reed.” Meadows walked away, balancing the heavy carrying case in his left hand. The Glory was his, for a little while, anyway, and he could hold it and examine it with no one else to interfere. That was all he wanted. But once it was done, Pike would see the value of his study of the stone. Meadows was absolutely certain the captain would not waste his effort insisting that the evaluation be eradicated. The captain would understand that Meadows was entirely justified in what he was doing. Entirely justified.
Dr. Philip Boyce lazily leaned back in the reclining chair that molded gently to his body and stared at the ceiling of his sickbay office in pleased rapture. The good feeling had something to do with the shot glass in his hand. He glanced at the chronometer and grunted. The timing was perfect. He reached out to the ship’s intercom button on his desk and tapped it.
“Boyce to Bridge.”
“Number One here. What is it, Doctor?”
“You have exactly one minute to the end of your duty shift, correct?”
He could almost see the first officer frowning slightly, wondering what he was up to. Her voice came back noncommittally. “That is correct, Doctor. And if you know that, you didn’t call me to ask for the time.”
“You are correct. Next question from you is, Whaddaya want? Also correct?”
[144] “An inelegant phrase for you, but accurate.”
“I am about to satisfy your curiosity. When you come off shift in”—he checked the chronometer again—“ah, thirty seconds, I’m inviting you to drop by sickbay to participate in a scientific experiment of great importance.”
There was a pause, then her voice said, “I’m surprised you don’t feel Mr. Spock would be more suitable for such an experiment.”
“Sorry. He’ll have to wait for his promotion. Only first officers qualify for this one. Are you coming?”
There was a slightly longer pause than before. “I will be relieved in exactly five seconds, Doctor. Then I’ll be down.”
Boyce grinned cheerfully at the intercom. “I’ll be waiting.” He tapped it off and relaxed back in his chair. He had one eye on the chronometer, mentally counting off the minutes, and had reached five when the sickbay door slid open to admit the executive officer. She glanced around at the unoccupied beds and then crossed to the door of Boyce’s office to look in at him. Her eyes shifted from his face to the glass he held. “About this scientific experiment of great importance?” she asked.
He raised the glass to her in salute. “First batch of the new mission.”
A smile lifted the corner of her mouth, and her deep blue eyes softened slightly. She stepped into the room and comfortably hitched one hip up on the edge of his desk. “It was kind of you to invite me, Phil.”
“Chris and I usually christen the first wringings together, but I thought you might like to join me in his absence.” He hooked another shot glass from the [145] cabinet behind the desk, poured out a half-measure from a beaker, and handed it to her.
“You’re being a miser with that.”
“Wait until you taste it before you judge your fellow officer. Skoal, prosit, à votre santé, down the hatch.”
She chuckled, lifted the glass toward him in a toast, and took a sip o
f the waterlike liquid. Her eyes widened as she swallowed, and for a moment the white-hot sear of it down her throat held her speechless. Boyce looked at her benignly. When she could manage it, she gasped, “What is in this?”
“Good, huh?”
“Good is not the word, my dear doctor. More like—ambrosia. Nearly lethal until it gets to your stomach, but ambrosia after that.” She looked deeply into the glass with great respect. “Warming, too. Who’s responsible?”
Boyce studied the glass he held, considering the question. “Well, we’ve never had a batch like this before. Stands to reason it’s a new man. What do you think?”
“Hmm. Most likely an engineer. Two or three new ones this trip.” Number One took another cautious sip of the brew, held her breath as it burned its way down. “You know, this is better than the Lionheart’s.”
“I wonder what’s in it.”
“It has been my experience, Phil, that when it comes to engine-room hooch, it is often better not to ask.”
“Oh, well, in that case, drink up.”
They solemnly tilted their glasses together, tapped rims, and did exactly that.
* * *
[146] Farnah’s party reached Antorin Oasis in the late afternoon. As they entered the shadow of the kerra trees, they heard voices at the center of the grove, near the deep pool that welled there. Pike saw several pedal vehicles standing just inside the oasis. The tribesmen quickly dismounted and moved forward, hands on the dree knives at their belts. Pike and Berendel followed just a little behind them.
STAR TREK: TOS #44 - Vulcan's Glory Page 11