by James Blish
"It seems the Troglytes have the impression that our ship is here to intimidate them," Kirk told Spock.
"It is not an impression, Captain," Vanna said hotly. "It is truth!"
Kirk picked up her mortae and shoved it into his belt. "We are here to get that consignment of zenite. Nothing more."
"Starships do not transport cargo!" Vanna cried.
"In times of emergency they do anything," Kirk said. "And believe me, this plant plague on Marak II is an extreme emergency."
"Lies will not keep the Troglytes in their caverns, and neither will your ship, Captain."
Droxine said, "You speak like a Disruptor, Vanna."
"I speak for my people! They have as much right to the skies as you Stratos dwellers!"
"What would Troglytes do here?" asked Droxine disdainfully.
"Live! With warmth and light as everyone should!"
"Your caverns are warm," said Droxine coldly. "And your eyes are unaccustomed to light. Just as your minds are unaccustomed to reason." She moved to a wall and pressed a button. A sentinel appeared at the door; and waving a casual hand toward Vanna, Droxine said, "Take her away."
Kirk looked at Spock. "Surely," he said to Droxine, "you don't deny light and warmth to the Troglytes?"
"The Troglytes are workers," said the child of the High Advisor. "They mind zenite and till the soil. Those things can't be done here."
"In other words," Spock said, "they perform all the physical toil necessary to maintain Stratos?"
Droxine smiled at him. "That is their function in our society."
"Yet they are not allowed to share its advantages?"
"How can they share what they don't understand?"
"They could be taught to understand," Kirk said.
Droxine's answer had the sound of a lesson learned by rote. "The complete separation of toil and leisure has given Ardana a perfectly balanced social system."
Kirk was finding this conversation increasingly disturbing. He began to pace. Spock said, " 'Troglyte' is a corruption of an ancient Earth term, Captain. Its technical translation is 'cave dweller.' "
Kirk threw him a tight nod. "We should have realized—"
He was interrupted by a shriek of agony echoing from the Council gallery. He and Spock exchanged a glance of alarm and raced down the corridor to the room of luxuriously cushioned benches.
Tied tightly to its central dais, Vanna was screaming. Incandescing rays from its flanking poles flooded her face with green fire. She shrieked again.
Droxine went back to the cubical table and straightened a gold goblet, while Plasus watched. Kirk and Spock sprang to the dais to tear at the cords that bound Vanna's writhings.
"Stop it!" Kirk shouted at Plasus. There was a long moment. Then Plasus' hands came together in a faint clap. The rays faded. Still bound, Vanna slumped into unconsciousness.
"She is stubborn," Plasus said. "Physical discomfort is the only persuasion they understand, Captain."
"You have tortured her." Kirk's voice shook with anger.
"Is it preferable to spare Vanna—and allow an entire planet to be destroyed? You yourself pointed out that the search for your zenite must be short" Plasus' voice was eminently reasonable.
Spock approached Droxine. "Violence in reality is quite different from theory. Do you not agree, madame?"
"But nothing else moves the Troglytes. What else can they understand?"
"All those little things you and I understand," the Vulcan said gravely. "Such as kindness, justice, equality."
She shivered slightly. Then she drew a fold of her gown around her, rose gracefully and left the gallery.
"The abstract concepts of an intellectual society are beyond the comprehension of the Troglytes, Mr. Spock." The High Advisor was angry now.
"The abstract concept of loyalty seems dear to Vanna," Kirk said.
"A few Troglytes are brought here as retainers. Vanna was one of them. They receive more training than the others."
"But obviously no more consideration," Kirk said.
Open rage thickened Plasus' voice. "I fail to see the use of this continued criticism." He beckoned to his guards and pointed to the slumped body on the dais. "Revive her!"
Kirk leaped to the dais. "The only way you'll use that device again is on both of us!"
"An imposing display of primitive gallantry. Captain. You realize, of course, that I can have my guards remove you."
"Of course," Kirk said. "But Starfleet Command seldom takes kindly to having either rays or physical force used on one of its personnel. Think twice."
Plasus did so. "Why are you so concerned about this Disruptor's well-being, Captain Kirk?"
"I want that zenite."
"Then stop interfering—and I'll get it for you. We will get it for you in our own way. Guards, take the prisoner to confinement quarters. As for you, Captain, you will return to your starship at once—or I shall contact your Starfleet Command myself to report your interference in this planet's society, in contravention of your prime directive. Should you reappear on Stratos City again, it would be only as an enemy."
The guards were removing Vanna's unconscious body from the dais. Kirk clicked open his communicator.
"Kirk to Enterprise?
"Scott here, Captain."
"Returning to ship. Beam us up, Mr. Scott."
The Council gallery disappeared in dazzle.
Twelve hours.
Kirk moved restlessly in his command chair. The decision that confronted him was no joke. Twelve hours—and all plant life on Marak II would be irreversibly on its way to becoming extinct. Seven hundred and twenty minutes to allow the plague to complete its lethal work—or to persuade Ardana to make good on its pledge of the zenite consignment.
He swung his chair around to Uhura. "Advise Starfleet Command that the methods being employed by the government of Ardana will not make the zenite available. It is my view that I have only one alternative. I hereby notify that I must try to reason directly with the Troglyte miners. I am assuming full responsibility for these direct negotiations."
McCoy walked over to him and laid a hand on Kirk's shoulder. That won't be easy, Jim. Ardana has supplied us with data showing mental inferiority in the Troglytes."
"That's impossible, Bones! They have accepted personal sacrifice for a common cause. Mentally inferior beings aren't capable of that much abstract loyalty."
"I've checked the findings thoroughly," McCoy said gently. "Their intellect ratings are almost twenty percent below the planetary average."
Spock turned from his hooded computer. "But they all belong to the same species," he reminded McCoy. Those who live on Stratos and those who live below all originated on the surface, not long ago. It is basic biological law that their physical and mental evolution must have been similar."
"True enough, Spock. But obviously the ancestors of those who live on Stratos had left the environment of the mines. That's how they avoided further effects of their influence."
"What influence?" Kirk asked.
McCoy held out a small sealed container, carefully.
"This is a low zenite ore sample I had brought from the surface. If I unsealed the container, it would have detrimental effects on everybody here."
"Zenite is shipped all over the galaxy wherever there's danger of plant plague," Spock protested. "No side effects have been reported."
"After it's refined there are none. But in its natural state it emits an odorless, invisible gas which retards the cortical functioning of the brain. At the same time it heightens emotional imbalance, causing violent reactions."
"Then the mines must be full of this gas," Kirk said.
McCoy nodded. "And the Troglytes breath it constantly."
"But the Disruptors—Vanna, for instance. They've outwitted a highly organized culture, apparently for years."
"Captain," Spock said, "you will recall Vanna's experience as a servant in Plasus' household. She was removed from exposure to the gas for an ap
parently significant period. Perhaps without long exposure, its effects slowly wear off."
"They do," McCoy said. "The other Disruptors probably have similar histories."
"Any way of neutralizing the gas, Bones?"
"No. But filter masks would eliminate the exposure."
"Get one, Bones—or make a mock-up of one, fast-end report back here on the double. Lieutenant Uhura, call Advisor Plasus."
After a considerable interval, the Council gallery materialized on the main viewing screen. Plasus was sitting at the cubical table, drinking slowly.
"Your further communication is not welcome, Captain," he said.
"I may be able to change your mind," Kirk said. "At least, I hope so. My ship's surgeon has made a crucial discovery. He has found that zenite ore discharges a gas that impairs brain function. He thinks he can counteract it."
McCoy appeared at Kirk's elbow, a face mask in his hand. That is the case, Mr. Advisor. This filter arrangement in my hand is a gas mask. It eliminates all gases injurious to humanoid life. If others like it are distributed to the miners, we can confidently expect them to achieve intellectual equality with Stratos inhabitants, perhaps quite soon."
Plasus dropped the goblet. "Who are you? Who are you to talk of 'intellectual equality' for—for Troglytes?"
"Let me present Dr. McCoy, Medical Officer of the Enterprise, Mr. Advisor," Kirk said. "We have checked his findings with our computers. They are absolutely valid."
"Are you saying that this comical mask can accomplish what centuries of evolution have failed to do?"
"Yes. That's what I said, Mr. Advisor."
"Centuries isn't a long time in terms of evolution," McCoy added.
"And do your computers also explain how my ancestors managed to create a magnificence like Stratos City while the Troglytes remained savages?"
"Your ancestors removed themselves from contamination by the gas," Spock said.
"Preposterous!"
"We have no time to argue," Kirk said. "I propose to inform Vanna that the filters are available."
"I doubt that even Vanna will credit such nonsense!"
"Are you afraid that the filters might work, Mr. Advisor?"
Kirk's question obviously hit home. Plasus stamped his foot on the iridescent floor. "You are here to complete an emergency mission, Captain! Not to conduct unauthorized tests!"
"I am here to collect a zenite consignment," Kirk said. "If these masks will help me do it, I will use them."
"I forbid it, Captain! Your Federation orders do not entitle you to defy local governments." Plasus reached for a switch. "This communication is ended."
As he faded from the screen, Kirk said, "My diplomacy seems to be somewhat inadequate."
"Pretty hard to overcome prejudice, Jim."
Kirk nodded. "Doesn't leave us much choice, does it?"
"Not much time, Captain," Spock said. "There are now ten hours and forty minutes left us to deliver the consignment to Marak II."
Kirk took the mask from McCoy. "Alert the Transporter Room to beam me down to Vanna's confinement quarters, Mr. Spock."
"Jim! You're returning to Stratos against government orders?"
"Unless Vanna has something definite to gain for her people, she'll die, Bones, before she turns over the zenite to us."
Spock intervened, an undertone of anxiety in his voice. "If you are apprehended violating the High Advisor's orders, he will consider it within his rights to execute you."
Kirk grinned. "If you're about to suggest that you contact Vanna, the answer is negative, Mr. Spock;" And that goes for you, too, Bones."
Spock said stiffly, "Allow me to point out that a First Officer is more expendable than either a doctor or a Captain, sir."
"This mission is strictly unofficial," Kirk said. "Nobody is to have any part of it—or take any responsibility for it but myself. That's an order, Mr. Spock."
Silently the Vulcan detached his phaser from his belt and handed it to Kirk. Kirk took it, saying, "You have the con, Mr. Spock. Stand by until I contact you."
Vanna's confinement quarters were narrow, barely wide enough to accommodate a slim sleep dais and a small cube table. Her face still drawn from her ordeal, she was pacing the short length of the cell when she halted in amazement at the sight of him.
"I've brought you a gift," he said, and held out the mask to her. "Listen to me carefully, Vanna. In the mines there's a dangerous gas that affects the development of the Troglytes who are exposed to it too long. This mask will prevent any further damage and allow recovery to take place."
He laid the mask on the table and waited for her surprise to subside. She made no move toward the table.
"Gas from zenite?" she said suspiciously. "It's hard to believe that something we can neither see nor feel can do much harm."
"An idea isn't seen or felt, Vanna. But a mistaken idea is what's kept the Troglytes in the mines all these centuries."
"Will all the Troglytes receive these masks?"
"I will arrange to have Federation engineers help construct them."
She faced him, her eyes pondering. "Suppose Plasus will not agree?"
"Plasus is not the whole government," Kirk said.
"But the City Council will not listen to Troglytes."
"When the zenite is delivered, we'll come back. Then I'll request permission to mediate for the Troglytes. I give you my word."
"Stratos," she said, "was built by leaders who gave their word that all inhabitants would live there. The Troglytes are still waiting."
"This time you won't have to wait," he said gently. "We'll deliver the zenite in a few hours."
Her face was tormented. "Hours can become centuries just as words can be lies."
Kirk grasped her shoulders. "You must trust me, Vanna! If you don't, millions of people will die! A whole planet will die! The zenite is all that can save them—and the masks are all that can save the Troglytes!"
She closed her eyes for a moment, swaying. Then she said, "Very well, Captain. But the consignment is deep in the mines. I cannot tell you how to find it. I must take you to it."
Kirk hesitated. "Valuable hostages" was the phrase Plasus had used. There was no getting away from the fact that Captain James Kirk of the Enterprise would qualify as a very valuable hostage. But he had asked for her trust; he would have to give her his. He took out his communicator.
"Kirk to Scott. Beam us both up, and then back down to the mines."
Blinking in the planet's relentlessly glaring sunlight, Kirk drew the mask down over his head. Through its goggles, he could see Vanna's delicate figure, a dark shadow against the darker shadows of the mine's entrance, vanish into blackness. He followed her.
They were moving down a steeply descending tunnel. Ahead of him Kirk could discern faint glimmers of unidentifiable light Then they were in a large cavern. Its walls glowed greenly with the phosphorescence of zenite ore lodes that etched themselves in cabalistic scribbles on the rock face like messages left by witches. Other jagged rocks jutted from the floor. The cavern might have been an underground graveyard of magicians' tombstones.
A miner's mortae lay against one of the floor's peaked rocks. Picking it up, Vanna struck the rock three times; the rock rang like a gong. As the sound died, Kirk heard a stealthy movement from a narrow ledge high on the left wall of the cave. Two big, begrimed Troglytes were climbing down a series of crude steps, hewed into the rock, to the cavern floor.
Vanna touched their shoulders in greeting. Their faces lightened. "Anka, Midro," she said.
"Vanna. It is you.", Anka, the bigger Troglyte, touched her shoulder in similar greeting. "You have returned."
"And I have brought you a hostage," she said. "Seize him!"
The Troglytes grabbed Kirk's arms so swiftly that he could not make a move in defense. They were twisted behind him as Vanna, jerking his phaser from his belt, thrust it into hers. Then she snatched his communicator and hurled it against a sharp-toothed outcropping of rock a few
feet away.
Kirk found his voice, but it was unfamiliar, hoarse, distorted by the mask. "We had a bargain. Why are you breaking it?"
"Did you really think I would trust you, Captain?"
"I trusted you," he said.
"You thought you'd tricked me with your talk of unseen gas and filters. I don't believe in it any more than Plasus does."
"Then you are a fool," Kirk said. "The filters can free you just as I said they could."
"Only weapons will free us," she retorted. "And you have just furnished us with two valuable ones. Yourself—and this." She touched the phaser in her belt
"Holding me will not help you. My men will still come for the zenite consignment."
She laughed. "Without that," she said, pointing to the communicator, "you will be hard to locate."
"They will find me," Kirk said.
"Perhaps." She removed his mask and draped it over a mortae thrust into a crevice on the wall. "I don't think you will be needing this." Then she had a second thought, and taking the mask down again, handed it to Anka. "Send this to Plasus. It will inform him that we have more to bargain with than our mortaes and thongs."
Anka's eyes brightened. "You are clever, Vanna. Very clever."
He hurried out of the cavern and she turned to Midro. "Go to the other mines and tell the Troglytes to post watchers. Search parties may be coming soon."
Midro pointed to Kirk. "What of him?"
Vanna drew the phaser from her belt. "I will see that he does not escape."
"If we kill him," Midro said, "there'll be no need to see to that."
"A dead hostage is useless," she told him.
His face set stubbornly. "Only the Troglytes need know."
"I brought him—and I will say what is to be done."
"You're not the only Disruptor," Midro said sullenly. "I too can say."
"Can you do nothing but argue?" she cried impatiently. "Hurry—or the searchers will be here!"
"When Anka returns, we will all say." Nevertheless, he left.
Vanna kept the phaser leveled on Kirk. "Now, Captain, dig," she said. "Dig for zenite as the Troglytes do. I will give you a lesson in what our lives are like."