There was a soft thump from the path a few yards ahead of them. He glanced up and saw a little lump of snow that hadn’t been there a moment ago. Was someone throwing snowballs, someone’s idea of a joke? Before he could turn to look around, the silent night was shattered by a screeching roar from above and behind. Fangs and white fur flew at them. McCoy felt pain and hot breath as he fell backward.
Somehow, he’d managed to push Kailyn with all his strength, out of the way. Giant claws slashed at his throat. No place to go but over the cliff. Then he felt searing heat, heard a high-pitched whine, his head spun and he fought the blackout coming on. Suddenly, the incredible weight on his shoulder was gone, the claws and fangs falling away from him. Hands grabbed him—Kailyn’s hands—he held them, felt them give way, felt himself fall back. He slipped, hit his head on the ground. Four more hands, strong ones, grasped him, and Spock and Shirn lifted him from the ledge to safety.
McCoy opened his eyes. His entire body hurt. A wave of diziness washed over him and he felt very nauseous. Spock’s was the first face he saw. He moved his tongue over his lips—it felt heavy and soft and like it belonged to someone else.
“Which army marched through my mouth, Spock?”
“I’m pleased to see you’ve regained consciousness, Doctor.”
“What happened? Where am I?”
“You were attacked by a zanigret. You are back in the caves.”
McCoy closed his eyes and groaned. “Did I win?”
“Yes. With some assistance. Why were you walking outside? Shirn warned us earlier to remain within the caves during darkness.”
“I forgot. Kailyn wanted to . . . Ohmygod, is she okay?”
“Fortunately, she escaped injury. I gave her a sedative and put her to sleep.”
McCoy let out a long breath. “You’d make a good nurse, Spock. The last thing I remember is a snowball bein’ thrown at us.”
“The zanigret’s rather ingenious method of hunting is to distract the attention of its prey by throwing a chunk of snow or rock with its prehensile tail, then to pounce from behind.”
“Oh. I feel like my back is broken, but of course, if it was, I couldn’t feel anything.”
“Thank you for that lesson in anatomy and physiology.”
“Don’t be sarcastic with an injured man. How bad is it?”
“You have minor cuts and bruises.”
“That’s comforting. Not comfortable, mind you . . . but comforting.” He managed to sit up—it felt no better, but it felt no worse, either. He noticed Kailyn sleeping soundly across the chamber. Spock must have given her a hefty tranquilizer dose.
“Spock,” McCoy said slowly, “Kailyn’s in love with me.”
The Vulcan raised an eyebrow. “Indeed?”
“Don’t act so surprised. I happen to be quite lovable.”
“I have never doubted that, Doctor,” Spock replied wryly.
“What I want to know is, what should I do about it?” He rubbed the back of his head, and found a knot the size of his fist—or so it felt. He winced, then glanced up at Spock, who seemed unwilling to look him in the eye.
“I . . . am not comfortable discussing such matters, Dr. McCoy.”
“I’m not asking for pearls of romantic wisdom from that cold, calculating Vulcan heart. I’m just asking for a logical appraisal, based on that computerlike, unemotional way you have of observing emotional behavior.”
The first officer drew his lips into a thin line, and McCoy began to regret having asked him. He’d spent years chiding Spock for his inability to feel rather than think, spouting on about how good, old-fashioned emotions were far superior to life governed by logic and equations. At times, he’d brandished the notion like a blackjack, beating Spock over the head with it, rather crudely; on other occasions, he could turn the belief into a sharp tool, wielding it with fine surgical skill, attempting to whittle and slice through the Vulcan shell to the heart beneath.
All that effort and here I am turning to him for ice-water advice.
But this was different. Not merely a private affair of his own heart. He was letting his feelings get in the way of a vital Star Fleet mission. He could not simply regard Kailyn as a young lady of obvious attraction, though she was. Even Kailyn’s own wishes had to be submerged for the good of her home planet. You’re a little old to be a star-crossed lover, McCoy.
Finally, Spock coughed to relieve the silence, though it did nothing to relieve the tension McCoy felt knotting his stomach.
“I am not an authority on this subject, Dr. McCoy—”
“But you’re the only thing I’ve got, so give me an answer.”
“Very well. From what I understand about such emotional behavior as this, you have a dilemma”
“I already know that.”
“If you do not share Kailyn’s feelings, the only way to get her to abandon them is to tell her. The longer you wait, the more difficult it will be to do so.” He paused for an extra moment of contemplation “Clearing the air, so to speak, might relieve her of the burden of confusion over your mutual feelings, enabling her to devote full concentration to the Crown.”
“So I should tell her . . .”
“On the other hand, she could react irrationally if she knows that her love for you will remain unrequited. That being the case, your telling her might destroy her ability to control the Crown’s crystals.”
McCoy scowled. “So I shouldn’t tell her . . .”
Spock scratched his chin. “A third possibility just occurred to me. She may be so confused now that her mental concentration has already been impaired to a critical point.”
“Then it wouldn’t matter what I do,” McCoy said, in total despair. “You’re a big help, Spock.”
“I assume you are being sarcastic.”
McCoy shook his head, mad at himself. “I’m sorry. You tried. I guess I’ll just have to figure this one out for myself.”
The next morning dawned bright and clear. McCoy had a restless night of tossing and turning, and he was up with the sun, taking a morning stroll and watching the fine mists burn away from the low-lying pastureland.
In groups of perhaps a score each, the snowsheep were being led out of several yawning caverns and driven down the cobblestones for a day of grazing. Each separate herd was accompanied by four or five of the mountain folk; men, women, and children all pitched in to help, shouting at the animals, tapping the ground with long crooks and prodding the odd recalcitrant sheep to stay in line and follow its leaders.
For the most part, the snowsheep seemed to be placid creatures of habit, following the same route to the fields that their kind had trod for hundreds of years. The same thought applied to the herders. Sheep and shepherds alike seemed genuinely content—and why shouldn’t they be? thought McCoy. There lives are laid out for them by tradition, there prosperous, well-fed, peaceful; in the entire time he’d been on Sigma, this was the first place he’d seen where life was filled not with struggle but with simple pleasures. He thought of staying here himself. If the Enterprise never came back for them, would it be so awful? Shangri-la, he thought again as he watched the herds dwindle in size on their descent from the cave area.
Spock, too, had risen early. He’d gone back to the cavern where the scrolls were kept to record additional chapters. He would never tire of studying the past, piecing together fact and legend to trace a line to the present as it was.
Kailyn was the last to awaken. She washed up in the warm water that flowed from a steaming spring, and was about to look for McCoy when he came in to find her. She smiled radiantly, but his expression was somber.
“What’s wrong, Leonard?”
“Oh, nothing. I’m just a little sore from our big-game hunt last night. Last time I go for a walk with you, Kailyn.”
“Don’t say that,” she said, and kissed him on the cheek.
“Well . . . how are you feelin’ this morning, young lady? All ready for the big hike?”
She shrugged. “I guess I�
��m frightened. This is what we made the whole trip for, the reason you and Mr. Spock had to go through all this suffering.”
“It wasn’t what I would’ve picked for a restful vacation, but we made it, didn’t we? It wasn’t so terrible.”
She closed her eyes. “What if I fail?”
“Don’t even think about that.”
He held her close, and she rested her cheek on his shoulder. He gritted his teeth; he couldn’t tell her—but he had to. He couldn’t be a distraction to her, nor a false hope. On this day, she would have to face her future alone, without idealized images of love with him to salve the pain if the Covenant and the Crown eluded her.
It’s now or never. McCoy did not love her, not the way she wanted him to. Though there was much he wasn’t certain of, he was sure of that.
“Kailyn, we have to discuss something.”
She looked up a him, eyes wide as a child’s. “What?”
“We started to get into it last night when that zanigret so rudely interrupted us.”
She smiled at the preattack memory. “As I recall, we weren’t discussing anything. We were . . .”
She tried to kiss him, but he pulled back and disengaged the embrace. Kailyn’s smile died away. “What’s wrong?”
He turned his back and began pacing. “Kailyn, I . . .” He sighed and started again. “It can’t be like that between us.”
“But I’ve never met anyone like you.”
“That’s just it. You’ve hardly had a chance to be out in the world, any world. You’ve got greater things ahead than me.”
“I want you to share them with me.”
“I can’t—and I can’t lead you on thinkin’ I can”
“But I love you.”
“You don’t, Kailyn, and you’ll know that soon. I care about you, very, very much. I’m so proud of you. You’ve learned so much in the time we’ve been in this thing, I feel like I’m watching my own daughter grow up—and that’s why I can’t give you what you want and need. I’m not the one.”
A pair of tears rolled down her cheeks, but she ignored them and refused to cry. “The time we spent together, the things we did, the things we told each other—they didn’t mean anything, did they?” Her voice was quiet, almost empty.
“Oh, no . . . they meant a lot, and I wouldn’t trade them for anything. But it’s not love, not the marrying kind. It is friendship . . . deep friendship and affection.”
“You don’t have to explain, Dr. McCoy.”
“You can still call me Leonard.”
“Maybe I’d better not. You’re right about one thing—I learned a lot. I learned maybe it’s better not to trust anyone or let them get too close.”
“Aww, no, Kailyn. Don’t—”
“I think you’d better leave me alone now.”
He swallowed whatever words were trying to tumble out, along with the urge to give Kailyn a hug. He backed out of the sleeping chamber.
With eyes down, he nearly bumped into Spock in the main grotto.
“Is Kailyn prepared for the journey?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did you have your discussion with her, Doctor?”
“Yeah. I think maybe I shouldn’t have.”
“She took it badly?”
McCoy nodded, and felt very much like finding another zanigret to stand under. “Honesty is not always the best policy, Spock . . . especially when you’ve got lousy timing.”
Chapter Nineteen
Shirn sat on the wall bordering the stone road. Squinting into the morning sunlight, he watched Kailyn come out of the cave. Bundled in a parka that was much too big for her, with her shoulders slumped, she looked tiny and frail.
The old chieftain hoped he’d helped her in some way the night before, though he wondered if he’d really had any right to give advice. While he led a conglomeration of perhaps a dozen clans, she was to rule an entire planet. Shirn often thought of himself as a caretaker, placed in charge of a heritage proven over centuries, tested by time and tempered by the winds.
But the young Princess faced quite another situation—to weave cohesion and order from the tattered threads of a planet ravaged by civil war was something a simple herdsman from the Kinarr valley could only imagine. He wished there were some blueprint he could offer her, a certain path to follow.
There was something about Kailyn that made everyone whom she encountered want to help. Was it the immenseness of the responsibility loaded upon her untested shoulders, or the poignant vulnerability in the way she asked questions and sought to gain strength from those she met? That quality could turn out to be priceless, if it lured others of goodwill to come to her aid. Or, it could be a foreshadowing of disaster if she truly was weak and helpless.
Shirn had chosen two strapping young shepherds from his own clan to guide the expedition up to the hiding place of Stevvin’s Crown. The two—Frin and Poder—had been picked for a particular reason: they were big and strong enough to enforce Shirn’s ruling that the Crown of Shad be taken only if Kailyn possessed the Power of Times. If she could not clear the crystals, as Shaddan religion demanded, the Crown would stay in its secret place. Frin and Poder would see to that.
With food, blankets, and emergency equipment in their backpacks, they led their Uncle Shirn and the three visitors down the cobblestone road. Ahead lay the trail that twisted over the great mountain, up to where the wind gods kept a watchful and gusty eye on the world below.
Kailyn walked alone in the center of the group, with Spock and Shirn behind her, and McCoy glumly bringing up the rear.
“Keep your head up, Dr. McCoy,” said Shirn, “or you’ll walk off the side of the mountain. The trail becomes very narrow up higher.”
Mostly, they moved on in silence, each lost in private thoughts. Spock found himself wondering what was going through Kailyn’s mind. Was she concentrating on mental preparations for dealing with the Crown, or was she lost in the emotional reverberations of her unsuccessful bout with love? For her sake, he hoped the Crown was uppermost, but he knew better; he also knew there was nothing he could do about it. It would be a breach of Vulcan propriety to inquire into her present state of mind and offer help unbidden. Still, he felt this nagging impulse to impose aid, whether she wanted it or not. Such action on his part would be clearly unacceptable and he distastefully attributed the impulse to his recent overexposure to McCoy’s unbridled emotionalism.
Meanwhile, McCoy’s subconscious continued scolding him. Why couldn’t you have kept your big mouth shut for a while longer? Would it have hurt so much? You must be getting old—and senile. Either that or the older you get, the stupider you get. Self-flagellation couldn’t actually accomplish anything—the damage could not be undone, not in time to help at all. But making himself feel as badly as possible also made him feel just a bit better.
Kailyn herself was a mass of confusion. Fear, bitterness, and rage struggled for preeminence. She was angry at herself for misjudging McCoy’s interest in her, and for putting him in such an awkward position. She was furious at him for not loving her, and was torn between a desire for revenge and the awareness that it was a purely childish reaction. She wanted to show how adult she could be, how willing to forgive and forget—but she also wanted to hurt the person who had hurt her . . . or who had caused her to hurt herself . . or who had let her hurt herself. She wasn’t sure which . . .
Fleetingly, she thought of whirling in her tracks, and pushing McCoy over the trail’s edge—then throwing herself over after him. How melodramatic.
In truth, she didn’t know what she wanted—except peace in her heart and she had no idea how to find it. Maybe it would come with the Crown.
The Crown. . . . She had seen it, as a very small child, on just a few ceremonial occasions. She tried to recall what it looked like, its shape and size, how it felt in her hands, but she couldn’t. All she had were pieces of images, glimpses of a thing of wonder through the eyes of the child she’d been.
What would t
he Power of Times be like, if she had it? Was it something she’d be able to feel, physically; would it be pleasant, or frightening? Sunlight could soothe or burn; wind could come as a breeze or a gale. Would the Power be double-edged, like those forces of nature? Or would it come forth only before the mind’s eye? Would it change her?
Please, let it change me, she wished fervently. Let it make me all the things I’m not: . . . strong . . . wise . . . worldly . . . worthy of being loved.
But at the same time, she was afraid of being changed by something outside herself. Would the Power invade her like a thing from the night, some creature of evil—was that how the Power worked? Was it a force she would have to battle, and if she won, would she then be accepted as heir to the Covenant? If that was the way, what if she lost? She would not be able to rule . . . and what would be left of her, of Kailyn?
No . . . the Power must be a force of goodness and light. It suddenly struck her that in all their years together, all the hours and days spent learning what her father had to teach, he had never given her a clear picture of this Power of Times. Why hadn’t he? All at once, she felt betrayed. How could Father have failed me like that?
She answered herself—he wouldn’t have. If he had been able to show her, in words, what the Power was like, he would have done it. Even after a lifetime with this odd thing, this Power, as a part of you, you still can’t describe it to someone else?
She sighed aloud—if that were true, then how would she ever know, without doubts, that she had it?
Of course the Crown would tell her for now, but what about forever?
It was all so elusive. Like love. She glanced back at McCoy, his face a gray mask of sadness. Kailyn felt a compulsion to tell him it was all right not to love her—but it wasn’t all right. She wanted him to love her—didn’t she? Oh, I don’t know what I want. She groaned softly, then turned bright red when Frin, the taller guide, looked back sharply to see if she was in distress. She smiled quickly at him; reassured, he went back to watching the trail.
THE COVENANT OF THE CROWN Page 15