Star Trek - Blish, James - 11

by 11(lit)

  He looked at Kirk's phaser. The weapon left Kirk's belt and zoomed into Parmen's hand. Kirk studied the cold face with contempt. "Guests!" he said. "You don't know the meaning of the word! Guests are not treated like common prisoners!"

  Parmen was more than displeased by the rebuke. His face worked with rage-a rage that held no vestige of Platonic calm. "Don't take that tone with me!" he shouted.

  Kirk's hand was lifted to strike him sharply across his left cheek. Then his other hand was brought up to slap his right one. In a matter of seconds he'd lost all power to con-trol his hands. Parmen, leaning back on the couch, watched him repeatedly slap himself across the face with one hand after the other.

  Control of his communicator seemed to be also lost. Despite several calls to Scott, he couldn't raise him. Fi-nally, he closed the communicator. His face was burning from the beating he'd given it. Like his anger. That burned, too.

  Spock turned from one of the silken curtains that draped a window of their suite. "Obviously," he said, "Par-men does not want any contact made with the Enterprise."

  McCoy protested. "He may still need the ship's medi-cal stores. Why should he prevent contact?"

  "To hide any knowledge of his brutal treatment of a Starfleet Captain," Spock said.

  Kirk shook his head. "No, Mr. Spock. One thing is certain. Parmen is not concerned with either my dignity or safety."

  "Agreed, Captain," Spock said. "And he would not have treated you so brutally if he had any intention of releasing you-or the Enterprise."

  Suddenly, McCoy rose from a couch and started to-ward the door.

  "Where are you going?" Kirk said.

  "I don't want to go, Jim-but I can't help myself."

  As he spoke, Kirk was yanked toward the door, too; and Spock, twisted around, was forced to follow him. The three were literally trotted into the corridor, staring down at their moving legs in horror. Will-lessly, they were propelled back into Parmen's chamber. And to the beat of a lyre and drum. At their entrance, Alexander, a one-man band, evoked a great drum roll that matched the rhythm of their trotting feet. Parmen, Philana beside him, applauded the show.

  She rose from the couch and curtsied to them. "Gen-tle spacemen, we are eternally in your debt," she said. "Please accept some trifles as tokens of our gratitude. They stem from the very source of our inspiration. To the noble captain, a shield carried by Pericles as a symbol of his gal-lant leadership..."

  She motioned to a shield on the wall. It flew into Kirk's hands. He was about to drop it; but it hovered at his hands, persistent. At last he was compelled to take it; and Philana, smiling, said, "And to our silent and cerebral Mr.ÿSpock, that kathara from which to pluck music to soothe his ever-active brow..."

  The instrument left a bench. It sailed over to Spock, who took it; and without looking at it, shoved it under his arm.

  It was McCoy's turn to become the recipient of favor. "And lastly, the physician who saved Platonius and my spouse. To you, Dr. McCoy, that ancient collection of Greek cures, penned by Hippocrates himself..."

  A scroll rose from a table and floated over to McCoy. Kirk saw him begin to unroll it. He took a furious step forward. "Has my ship been released yet?" he demanded.

  Parmen spoke. "Captain, wait. I know what you're thinking. My humble apologies. You were badly used. In my own defense, allow me to say that my illness was more profoundly disturbing than I myself realized."

  He leaned back on his couch. A great leaner, Parmen. From his newly-relaxed position, he added, "I'm sure, Captain, that you, too, have been out of sorts; and have re-acted with fits of temper and rage. Unlike you, however, what I think and feel is instantly translated into reality. Please find it in your heart to forgive me."

  Kirk said, "Has the Enterprise been released yet?"

  "It will be, shorty. You're free to leave the planet."

  Kirk turned on his heel, speaking over his shoulder. "Good day, then. And thank you for the gifts."

  "Not at all. There is, though, one final request..."

  Kirk whirled. He'd known there was a catch in this somewhere. "Well?" he said.

  But Parmen was looking at McCoy. "After my nearly fatal infection," he said, "it has become clear to us all that we cannot afford to be without a skilled physician." He paused. "We'd like you, Dr. McCoy, to remain with us."

  Kirk stood very still. He heard McCoy say, "I'm sorry. That's impossible."

  Parmen sat up. "Your duties will be extraordinarily light. You'll be able to read, meditate, conduct research- whatever you like. You will want for nothing."

  "I'm afraid the answer is no."

  "We'd like to keep this cordial-but we're determined to have you stay, Doctor."

  Kirk fought to keep his voice steady. "You can bring yourself to do this after Dr. McCoy saved your life?"

  "I'm losing patience, Captain..."

  Despite all his efforts, Kirk's scorn broke through. "And you consider yourself Plato's disciple!"

  The comment amused Parmen. "We've managed to live in peace and harmony for centuries, my dear Captain."

  Spock's voice was icy. "Whose harmony? Yours? Pla-to wanted beauty, truth and, above all, justice."

  The remark hit Parmen where he hurt. "Captain, please! I admit circumstances have forced us to make a few adaptations of Plato. But ours is the most democratic society conceivable! Anyone at any moment can be and do just as he wishes, even to becoming the ruler of Platonius if his mind is strong enough!"

  "And if it isn't strong enough, he gets torn apart like Alexander!"

  Parmen reverted to another lean-back against his couch. "Oh, come now, Captain, we're not children. In your culture, justice is the will of the stronger. It's forced down people's throats by weapons and fleets of spaceships. On Platonius we'll have none of these. Our justice is the will of the stronger mind. And I, for one, consider it a vast improvement."

  "Why?" Kirk said. "Never would we use our weapons for the kind of brutality you practice!"

  Relaxation deserted Parmen again. He got to his feet. "Farewell, Captain Kirk."

  Kirk spoke to McCoy. "Come on, Doctor."

  He and Spock turned to leave. But McCoy was rooted to the spot where he stood. Kirk, looking back, saw him unmoving, rigid.

  "Bones?"

  "I-I can't move, Jim. They're going to keep me, no matter what. Leave, please!"

  Before, Kirk had never understood the term "tower-ing rage." Now he did. His fury seemed to be making him twelve feet tall in height. "No!" he shouted. "You're a doctor, Bones! They need your goodwill. They're just trying to-"

  Parmen interrupted. "Captain, go while you still can."

  "We're staying right here until Dr. McCoy is re-leased!"

  "This is not the Enterprise. And you're not in com-mand here, Captain."

  Kirk saw Philana shrug. "Why even discuss it, Parmen? Get rid of them."

  "But that might offend the good doctor, Philana." An idea-a delightful one-seemed to strike Parmen. He smiled at Kirk. "You wish to stay? Then do, by all means. You can help us celebrate our anniversary." He spoke to the immobilized McCoy. "In the process, I hope we can persuade you to join our tiny Republic..."

  McCoy's tongue was still his to use. "You won't per-suade me," he said.

  "I think we will," Parmen told him.

  Two garlands detached themselves from a marble statue of Aphrodite; and, whirling through the air, landed at the feet of Kirk and Spock. They were forced to bend and pick them up. Their gifts fell from their hands; and the same force compelled them to place the garlands ceremoni-ously on each other's heads.

  Parmen nodded to Alexander. The drum broke into a dancing beat. Kirk and Spock began a tap dance. Spock looked down at his shuffling feet in disgust. But Parmen's delightful idea of celebration was just beginning to be realized. The two Enterprise men found themselves childishly skipping around the pool, bowing to each other in mechan-ical precision. Then a line of a song was placed in Kirk's mouth. "I'm Tweedledee, he's Tweedledum..." Sp
ock bowed to him, singing, "Two spacemen marching to a drum..."

  It wasn't over. "We slithe among the mimsy troves," Kirk sang. Spock bowed to him again. "And gyre amidst the borogroves..."

  The garlands were exchanged. Kirk pouted sadly at the loss of his; and Spock, grinning madly in triumph, put it on his head. They bowed stiffly to each other and were dropped to their knees.

  "McCoy!" Kirk yelled. "You're not staying here, no matter what he does to us!"

  Parmen made an imperious gesture. Kirk coughed. He could feel the defiance in his face replacing itself with a pleading abjectness. He heard himself reciting-

  Being your slave, what should I do but tend

  Upon the hours and times of your desire?

  I have no precious time at all to spend,

  No services to do till you require.

  Nor dare I chide the world-without-end hour

  Whilst I, my sovereign, watch the clock for you.

  Nor think the bitterness of absence sour

  When you have bid your servant once adieu...

  There was no time for breath. The shaming words continued to stream from him...

  Nor dare I question with my jealous thought

  Where you may be or your affairs suppose,

  But, like a sad slave, stay and think of naught

  Save where you are how happy you make those!

  So true a fool is love that in your will

  Though you do anything, he thinks no ill...

  The idiot thing was done. Kirk's head went down.

  "Stop it! Stop it!" McCoy shouted.

  Kirk looked up. "No matter what he makes me say, it's no. You hear me, McCoy-no! I..."

  His head was almost twisted from his shoulders. He was jerked to his feet, an arm wrenched behind his back. Something grabbed him under the chin-and pulled his neck back, back until a cry of pain escaped him.

  "Well, Doctor?" Parmen said.

  McCoy was agonized, wavering with the torment of indecision. He was torn not only by laceration of his deep personal affection for Kirk. There was his professional obligation, too. As the Enterprise's surgeon, its captain's well-being was his prime consideration. If he agreed to re-main with these people, he could end the torture, serving both his love for Kirk and his duty to Starfleet service. Finally, he came to his anguished decision. He turned to Parmen. "I have my orders," he said.

  Parmen's mouth tightened. "As you wish, Doctor."

  Kirk was hurled to the ground. He got up, fists clenched, and rushed at Parmen. The Platonian stared at him. Kirk was frozen, a raised foot still in the air. "Is this your Utopia?" he shouted. "You haven't even..."

  He was flung again to the floor. Then words, too, were denied him. His vocal cords went dead.

  "We've had enough of your moralizing," Parmen said.

  McCoy whirled. "And we've had too much of yours! You will never get me to stay here!"

  He was smashed backward.

  "You will be happy to stay," Parmen told him. "It takes a little time, Doctor. But you will be happy to stay, I promise you."

  He unfroze Spock from his knees. The Vulcan, sick-ened by Kirk's misery, moved toward Parmen only to be frozen in mid-stride.

  Philana looked at Spock. "Perhaps you have been a bit too forceful, Parmen. There are other ways that might be more persuasive."

  "I doubt that they will be as entertaining. But if you want to have a try, do so."

  Spock gave a cry. Philana had sent him into a wild, stamping flamenco. He danced around and around the downed Kirk. McCoy, unseeing, was staring straight ahead.

  "An excellent choice, Philana," Parmen said. He spoke to the rigid McCoy. "All you have to do is nod."

  The air was filled with the clack of castanets. The viciously-heel-stamping Spock was moved in close to Kirk's head. An inch closer-and Kirk would be trampled to death. A stomping heel grazed his head. McCoy, about to make an appeal, clamped his mouth shut. Then he closed his eyes against the sight of Spock's helpless attack on Kirk.

  The Castanet sounds ceased. So did Spock's dancing. He froze in a finger-snapping gesture over Kirk's body. His arms dropped. He began to shake. Out of him came wild peals of laughter.

  McCoy opened his eyes as he heard them. He looked, appalled, at Spock as his laughter grew wilder. He swung around to Parmen. "Mr. Spock is a Vulcan," he said. "You must not force emotion from him."

  "You must be joking, Doctor," Philana said.

  "It can destroy him," McCoy said.

  "Come now," Parmen said. "There's nothing so wholesome as a good laugh."

  Spock was battered now by the insane fits of laughter. McCoy saw him pressing at his chest to soothe the agony of the spasms. Kirk was fighting to lift himself to get to Spock. He sank back to the floor, too weak to do it. Mc-Coy launched a fierce blow at Parmen. "You're killing Spock!" he cried.

  "Then we can't let him die laughing, can we now?" Parmen asked.

  The laughter ended. Slowly Spock fell to his knees, his head limp, arms dangling.

  "The poor fellow does look rather miserable, doesn't he, dear wife?"

  Philana encircled Parmen with her arm. "He does, dear husband. You know, nothing relieves misery like a good, honest cry." k

  McCoy stared at them. "He's a Vulcan! I beg you..."

  Parmen's face was flushed with a growing excitement "Later! Later!" he said impatiently. "That's probably not true of Vulcan men, anyway. Shall we test it, Philana?"

  Spock's shoulders began to shake. His body rocked from side to side as though wracked by a sudden woe. He was looking into Kirk's pain-ravaged face. Kirk moved on the floor toward him, his arm out. "Hang on, Spock," he whispered. "Hang on! Don't let him break you open..." He was tense with the struggle to support Spock's repres-sion. But it was no good. Spock's quiet face had turned into the tormented mask of tragedy. Tears welled in his Vulcan eyes and dripped down his cheeks. Unable to control his sobs, he crashed to the floor.

  Alexander, trembling and outraged, hurried to the center of the chamber, his lyre in his hand. "Parmen! They saved your life!"

  He was flipped back into the pool. He staggered up, soaking wet, his tears mixed with the water. From deeps he didn't know he owned, he delivered his final judgment on his society. "I'm ashamed to be a Platonian. Ashamed!"

  It was a resourceful society. Kirk was lifted to his feet; and, from the pool, the dwarf was placed upon Kirk's back. Alexander's arm whipped him on as he was driven, skipping around Spock's body, its eyes vacant as Kirk passed him.

  Parmen spoke sadly to McCoy. "How can you let this go on, Doctor?"

  For the moment their ordeals were suspended. They'd been permitted to return to their suite. Alexander had followed them; and was now dressing himself in the dry tunic and pantaloons that were his buffoon's costume. But Spock, his eyes closed, sat apart. The total loss of emotion-al control had been such a violation of his Vulcan nature that he was still inwardly trembling. Kirk, resting on a couch, watched him anxiously. "Bones, can't you do anything for him?"

  "There's no medicine that can help him, Jim. He has to get through this himself."

  Despite his aching back, Kirk got up. As he crossed to Spock, McCoy joined him. They stood before him a moment, both quiet; and Spock, slowly becoming aware of their presence, opened his eyes. The awful experience of his turmoil was still evident in them. Kirk looked away from the painful sight of an overwrought Spock. He had no right to intrude on such private agony.

  "I trust they did not hurt you too much, Captain."

  "Just a sore set of muscles, Spock."

  "The humiliation must have been hardest for you to bear, sir. I...1 can understand."

  He assumed his customary impassive expression. But it was belied by the tremor in his voice and hands. Kirk's fury flamed in him.

  McCoy tried to be soothing. "The release of emotion is what keeps us healthy," he observed. "At least, emotion-ally healthy."

  "Fascinating," Spock said. "However, I have noted, Doctor, that the r
elease of emotion is frequently very unhealthy for those nearest to you. Emotionally, that is."

  Kirk forced a chuckle. "Which proves again that there are no perfect solutions."

  "It would seem so, Captain."

  Spock's eyes closed again. He spoke with them closed. "Captain!"

  "Yes, Spock."