Star Trek 06

by James Blish

  Silently, Kirk turned to the wall. It proved to be hard work. There was a bag on the floor in which he was told to put the chunks of ore; it took him a long time to get it half full. Vanna watched, smiling, as immaculate Captain James Kirk of the Starship Enterprise tore a nail on a bleeding finger.

  "Is that what the Disruptors are working for?" he said. "The right to kill everyone?"

  "Midro is a child."

  "The filter masks could change that."

  "Keep digging. You do it well, Captain. The unseen gas doesn't seem to be harming you."

  "It takes a while for the effects to become noticeable." He straightened his aching back. "How long do you plan to keep me here? Providing Midro doesn't kill me, of course."

  "Until we have help in the mines and our homes in the clouds."

  "That might be quite a while." Kirk loosened another chunk of ore. "Longer than I can wait!"

  He hurled the rough lump full in her face. She staggered back with a cry, and a moment later Kirk had wrested the phaser from her. He leveled it at the cavern entrance and fired. The boulders supporting it disintegrated, and the whole upper portion of its walls crumbled with a crash, sealing the entrance with a massive pile of rubble.

  "You have trapped us!"

  "Obviously."

  "But soon the atmosphere will go! We will die!"

  "Die? From something we cannot see or feel? You astound me, Vanna." He picked his way over the rubble to his communicator. As he had rather expected, it was unharmed; these instruments had been designed for rough use. "Kirk to Enterprise."

  "Spock here, Captain. Is anything wrong?"

  "Nothing. Are you locked in on me?"

  "Locked in, sir. Ready to beam up consignment."

  "Circumstances dictate a slight variation, Mr. Spock." Kirk eyed Vanna warily. "Hold on these coordinates. Locate the High Advisor and beam him down to me immediately. Without advance communication. Repeat—without advance communication."

  "Instructions clear, sir. We'll carry through at once. Spock out"

  "You will seal Plasus in here also?" Vanna had gone rigid with alarm.

  "I am preparing a slight demonstration of the effects of unbelieved gas," Kirk said. He waited. After a moment, the cavern shimmered and Plasus materialized. Such fury shook him when he saw Kirk that at first he failed to register the greenish darkness of his surroundings.

  "Abduction of a planetary official is a serious crime, Captain! You will pay for it, I promise!"

  Awe struggled with the alarm on Vanna's face. Kirk leveled the phaser at them both. "Not till you're convinced of the effects of zenite gas, Mr. Advisor."

  "What effects? I see no change in either of you!"

  "You need closer exposure." He waved to the half-filled bag at the cavern wall. "Fill that container."

  "You suggest that I dig zenite?"

  Kirk waved the phaser. "I insist, Mr. Advisor."

  Plasus' fists clenched. "You will indeed pay for this, Captain." After eyeing the steady phaser for a moment, he turned to the wall, and began to scrabble at the open zenite lode. It was quickly obvious that he had never done any physical labor before in his life.

  Kirk's jaw hardened, and he smiled a cold, thin smile. He felt strangely vindictive, and was enjoying it. "You too, Vanna."

  She stared at him for a moment, and then obediently turned also to the wall.

  Time passed. After a while, the communicator beeped. "Enterprise to Captain."

  "What is it, Spock?'

  "Contact check, sir. May I remind you that there are only five hours left to—"

  "Your orders were to stand by. Carry them out."

  "Standing by."

  Kirk clicked out. Both his laborers were beginning to show signs of exhaustion. Vanna leaned against the wall for a moment. "I grow faint," she whispered. "The oxygen is going."

  "She is right," said Plasus, panting. "You must have us transported out of here."

  "Dig."

  "You imbecile! We'll die!" Plasus cried.

  Kirk backhanded him. "I said, dig!"

  Knocked back against the wall, arms spread, Plasus snarled, an animal at bay; all trace of the urbane ruler of Ardana had vanished. "I will take no more orders!" He lurched forward.

  Kirk jerked the phaser. "Another step and I'll kill you."

  Vanna stared at Kirk's distorted face. "Captain—the gas!" she choked out "You were right! It is affecting you!"

  Plasus took the cue. "Are you as brave with a mortae as you are with a phaser?" he taunted.

  Infuriated, Kirk tossed the phaser to the floor. Plasus scooped two mortae from the rock ledge, and one in each hand, charged Kirk like a clumsy bull, slashing. Kirk dodged, grabbed Plasus' right wrist and tumbled him with a karate twist. The head struck rock. The two mortae clanged on the floor and Kirk leapt for Plasus' throat. As he fell on the High Advisor, the communicator dropped from his belt.

  Vanna grabbed it and began shouting. "Enterprise! Enterprise!" It remained dead. Vanna shook it, and then found the switch. "Enterprise! Help! They will kill each other! Help us."

  For a moment, nothing happened. Kirk's fingers lightened on Plasus' throat Then the cavern shimmered out of existence, and he found himself wrestling on the Transporter platform of the Enterprise.

  "Captain!" Spock's voice shouted. "Stop! The gas—"

  Kirk let go and got groggily to his feet. "The gas? What gas?" He looked around, almost without recognition. The Transporter Room was full of armed security guards. Vanna was cowering; Plasus was crawling off the platform, all defiance fled. It had been a near thing.

  The Council gallery of Stratos City resembled a first rehearsal reading of a play, Kirk thought. The whole cast was assembled. He hoped they had all learned their lines.

  "I understand you are going to get what you came for," Plasus said.

  "Yes, Mr. Advisor."

  "The zenite will be delivered exactly as I agreed," Vanna said.

  But Plasus hadn't yet learned all his lines. He turned on her. "The word 'agreed' is not in the Troglyte vocabulary."

  "The Captain will have his zenite."

  "No thanks to any agreement by you. It had to be obtained by force."

  "Force has served your purpose at times," she said.

  "And bribery," Plasus said, stubborn to the last, "Those masks."

  Kirk had had enough. "The masks will be very effective, Mr. Advisor. The Troglytes will no longer suffer mental retardation and emotional imbalance."

  "No," said Plasus. "They will all be like this one—ungrateful and vindictive."

  As he spoke, two sentinels entered the gallery staggering under the weight of an immense box. "There," Vanna said, "is the zenite. My word is kept."

  "As mine will be," Kirk said. "Thank you, Vanna." He took out his communicator. "Kirk to Enterprise . . .

  Mr. Scott, the zenite is here in the Council gallery. Have it beamed up immediately . . . Mr. Spock—"

  He broke off. Spock and Droxine had drifted to the balustrade. The hand of Ardana's incomparable work of art was on Spock's arm.

  "I don't like 'filters' or even 'masks,' " she was saying. "I think the word 'protectors' is much better, don't you, Mr. Spock?"

  "It is less technical," he told her. "And therefore, less accurate." He looked down at the hand on his arm. "But perhaps it is more generally descriptive of their function."

  " 'Protectors' is more personal," she said. "I shall be the first to test them. I shall go down into the mines. I no longer wish to be limited to the clouds."

  "There is great beauty in what lies below. And there is only one way to experience it, madame."

  "Is your planet like this?" She looked up at him.

  "Vulcan is quite different," Spock said. His back was stiff.

  "Someday, I should like to see it."

  "You cannot remain on Stratos," Spock replied, "if you wish to make a real test of . . . a protector."

  Kirk judged it time to intervene. "Mr. Spock, I think i
t is time. We've got just three hours to get the zenite to Marak II."

  Spock turned from the balustrade. Removing the white hand from his arm, he bowed over it. Then he straightened.

  "To be exact, Captain," he said, "two hours and fifty-nine minutes."

  THE MARK OF GIDEON

  (George F. Slavin and Stanley Adams)

  * * *

  "It appears to be Paradise, Mr. Spock," said Kirk, handing back the folder of Federation reports and stepping onto the Transporter platform. "It's taken Gideon long enough to agree to negotiating membership in the Federation."

  "I'll be interested in hearing your description, Captain," said Spock, taking his place at the console. "Since they have not permitted any surveillance, or any visitors, you appear to be uniquely privileged to visit Heaven early."

  "You won't have long to wait," said Kirk. Uhura's voice replied at once to Spock's request for coordinates. Spock set the levers at 875; 020; 079.

  "Let's go, Mr. Spock."

  "Energizing, Captain." Spock did not, of course, smile at Kirk's eagerness to be off.

  The Transporter Room shimmered, then steadied. Nothing seemed to have happened.

  "Mr. Spock," said Kirk, stepping from the platform. "Mr. Spock?" There was no one in the Transporter Room but himself.

  He clicked the intercom button. "Mr. Spock, I have not been transported down, and why have you left your post before confirming? Mr. Spock, answer me . . ."

  This was not at all according to regulations. Annoyed, Kirk stamped out of the Transporter Room and headed purposefully toward the bridge. There was nobody there either.

  He hit the intercom with increasing irritation. This is the Captain speaking. All bridge personnel report immediately." He folded his arms and waited; there had better be one hell of an explanation. Nothing happened. He switched on the intercom again, alternately calling Engineering, security, Dr. McCoy, and listening. There was only silence.

  "Lieutenant Uhura, report to the bridge immediately."

  The viewing screen showed only the planet Gideon exactly as he had just seen it before stepping onto the Transporter, a perfectly ordinary M-type planet peacefully poised in the screen. The readouts and lights on the bridge consoles continued to operate in their usual conformations.

  "Captain Kirk." The smooth voice of Prime Minister Hodin emerged from the communication screen. "The Council is still awaiting your arrival."

  A plump figure rose to its feet from among the Councillors of Gideon.

  "This discourtesy is unforgivable!" he snapped. "Doesn't your Federation recognize that first impressions are most important?"

  Spock blinked. "Captain Kirk was transported down minutes ago, sir."

  "That's impossible."

  "I transported him myself," said Spock firmly.

  "He never arrived here," said Hodin, evenly. Spock stared at Scott, and turned back to the screen.

  "He was beamed directly to your Council Chamber. Please check your coordinates, Prime Minister."

  Hodin read out from a slip of paper, "875; 020; 079."

  Scott nodded.

  "Somethings' gone wrong with the Transporter," said Chekov. "Captain Kirk's lost somewhere between the Enterprise and Gideon." His voice rose; Speck's expression remained impassive. The planet hung in the viewscreen, enigmatic.

  The Prime Minister was speaking insistently. "We provided you with the exact coordinates for this room, Mr. Spock. And that is all we were obligated to do. If he is not here it is your own responsibility and that of your staff."

  "I do not deny that, Your Excellency. I was not attempting to blame your personnel."

  "We are glad to hear that, sir." Hodin's voice sounded almost smug. "We are, in fact, inserting it into the records of this . . . most unfortunate event."

  "Your Excellency, with intricate machinery so delicately balanced as ours, there is always a margin for error," Spock said sharply. "Captain Kirk may have materialized in some other part of Gideon."

  Hodin said, "Let's hope it was dry land, Mr. Spock."

  "Your Excellency, to cut directly to the point, I request permission to beam down and search for the Captain."

  Hodin sat back, hands on the table before him. "Permission denied, Mr. Spock. Your Federation is well aware of our tradition of isolation from all contaminating contact with the violence of other planets . . ."

  "Your Excellency, the wars between star systems no longer prevail in our galaxy. If you will grant permission . . ."

  "We shall institute a search immediately. In the meantime I suggest you look to your machinery."

  "We have already done so, sir," Spock's voice was now extremely controlled. "With regard to permission to land . . ."

  But the Council Chamber had vanished from the screen.

  "We must once and for all acknowledge that the purpose of diplomacy is to prolong a crisis," said Spock, deliberately closing the switch.

  "What are we waiting for, Mr. Spock? We're not diplomats," McCoy flung himself on a chair.

  "We are representatives of the Federation, Doctor."

  "That doesn't mean we have to sit here like school-children and listen to a damfool lecture by some . . . dip-lo-mat."

  "Unfortunately, diplomacy is the only channel open to us at the moment. This planet is shielded from our sensors; we cannot observe it. Therefore we are unable to select coordinates. They have to be given to us. We are bound by Federation's agreements with Gideon." Spock turned to Lt. Uhura. "Contact Starfleet immediately. Advise them of this problem and request permission to use every means at our disposal to locate the Captain."

  "D'ye think he's there, Spock?" said Scott. "Or are there any other possibilities?"

  "They are endless, Mr. Scott."

  "Where do we start?" said McCoy helplessly.

  Spock leaned over Sulu's console. "Institute three-hundred-and-sixty degree scan, Mr. Sulu—one degree at a time."

  "You're going to scan space for him? But sir, that could take years!"

  "Then the sooner you begin, Mr. Sulu, the better," said Spock grimly.

  Sweating slightly, Kirk ran from the elevator and pressed a door; it did not budge. He tried to force it with no success. He tried the next door; it opened easily. Standing guardedly in the opening, he pushed it all the way open with his elbow, one hand on the butt of his phaser. It whished slightly in the silence. The tables in the lounge stood as though the crew had just been summoned; a half-finished chess game, a sandwich with a bite out of it, a book dropped carelessly on the floor. But the only sound was Kirk's own breathing. He went out into the corridor again, warily.

  Two more doors, locked. The third, labeled "Captain's Quarters," opened to the lightest pressure. His familiar room suddenly seemed alien—no crackle from the intercom, the bunk neatly made up, his books orderly on their shelf; his lounging robe swung eerily in the slight breeze made by the opening door. Momentarily disoriented, he wondered for a wild moment whether he had strayed from his own body and was visiting the Enterprise long after he and his crew had perished from the universe.

  Footsteps! Dancing footsteps, echoing in the corridor; he pivoted on his now very real heels and stared. At the end of the hall a graceful figure whirled and curtsied, feet pattering gaily on the utilitarian flooring.

  She caught sight of Kirk in mid-pirouette, and stopped with a little cry. He reached, and caught her; the sight of a human form brought his sense of reality back with a bump.

  "Who the . . . who are you?"

  She frowned, her delicate forehead lovely even when wrinkling; suddenly she smiled.

  "Odona . . . yes. My name is Odona. Why did you bring me here?" She indicated the ship's corridor with a wide gesture.

  Kirk was startled. "What are you doing on my ship?"

  "This entire ship is yours?"

  "It's not my personal property. I'm the Captain."

  "And you have all this to yourself?" Her voice was full of wonder.

  "At the moment, we seem to have it all
to ourselves," Kirk corrected.

  Odona smiled, sapphire eyes looking up from under sable lashes. "So it seems. You're hurting me, Captain."

  Kirk hastily released her.

  "Captain James Kirk. And I did not bring you here, incidentally."

  "If you didn't . . ."

  "Exactly. Who did?"

  She shrugged helplessly. The decorations bordering her brief tunic twinkled in the lights.

  "What happened before you got here?" said Kirk. "Try to remember. It's important."

  She puzzled over it for a moment. "I remember . . . it seems I was standing in a very large auditorium, crowded with people, thousands of people pressed against me so hard I could hardly breathe . . . I was fighting for breath, screaming to get out and they kept pushing and pushing . . ." She shuddered.

  "Don't be afraid." Kirk placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.

  "I'm not." She looked up at him. "But you are troubled?"

  Kirk turned away. "I am the only one of my crew left on the Enterprise. Out of four hundred and thirty. I may be the only one left alive."

  "I am sorry. If only I could help."

  "You can," said Kirk earnestly. "Tell me the rest. You were fighting for breath, screaming to get out, and . . ."

  "And suddenly I was here on this . . . your ship. And there is so much room, so much freedom. I just wanted to float." She smiled impishly. "And then, there you were."

  "How long have you been on the Enterprise?" Kirk's questions were almost random; any clue, any train of suggestion, might lead him to a solution.

  "I don't know. Not long. Does it matter?"

  "It might. Come on." He started back toward the bridge.

  Odona followed reluctantly.

  "Do we have to leave this wonderful open place?"

  Kirk glowered at the chronometer in the bridge, gripping Odona's hand. She tried to pull away from him; he held her firmly.

  "Half an hour of my life is lost."

  Odona stared at him.

  "Between the time I tried to leave this ship for Gideon, and the time I found myself here alone, a full half hour disappeared—poof! What happened during that half hour?"