by 10(lit)
"Unless the situation changes radically," Spock said.
"And who is to choose those who remain behind?"
"As commanding officer the choice is mine."
Boma's face hardened. "You wouldn't be interested in. drawing lots?"
Spock said "I believe I am better qualified to select those who will stay behind than any random drawing of lots." He spoke without a trace of egotism in voice or manner. "My decision will be a logical one, Mr. Boma, arrived at through logical, processes."
"Life and death are not logical, Spock!" McCoy cried.
"But attaining a desired goal is."
Spock ignored the tension in the atmosphere. "I would suggest we proceed to a more careful examination of the... hull: We may have overlooked some minor damage."
Boma glared after him as he left. "Some minor damage was overlooked," he said, "when they put his head together!"
"Not his head," McCoy said. "His heart."
Tension was rising in everybody. Over at the farther crater wall Latimer and Gaetano were making a nervous survey of the area. Suddenly Gaetano stopped, listening. Latimer, too, halted. They listened to the sound-a rhythmic scraping noise such as might be made by rubbing wood against some corrugated surface. Latimer became conscious of an uneasy impression that the crater wall was breathing, the mist of its breath the fog that drifted over it, reducing visibility. The mist had come suddenly, like the sound. The scraping noise was repeated.
"What is it?" Latimer whispered.
''I don't know," Gaetano said. "It came from up there."
"No... back there...."
They stared at each other. The sound surrounded them.
"Everywhere... it's all around us."
"Let's get out of here!" Latimer cried.
Then he yelled, breaking into a run. From the shadow made by a cleft in the wall above them a gigantic shape had emerged. Latimer screamed-and fell. Gaetano jerked out his phaser. He fired it at the fog-filled cleft.
He turned. The shaft of a spear was protruding from Latimer's back. It was as thick as a slim telephone pole.
The scream, reverberating against the crater's walls, had been heard by Spock and Boma. The Vulcan strode to Gaetano, where he stood over Latimer's body, still in shock, still staring up at the foggy cleft.
"How?" Spock said.
The dazed Gaetano lowered his phaser. "Something... huge... terrible. Up there!" He pointed to the cleft.
Spock walked over to the wall. Seizing an outcropping of rock, he began to climb up to the crevice. Boma spoke to Gaetano. "What was it? Did you see what it was?"
"Like a... a giant ape." He started to tremble. "It was all... so quick. There was a... a sound first."
Spock was back. "There's nothing up there," he said.
"I tell you there was!" Gaetano shouted.
Spock's voice was quiet. "I do not doubt your word."
"I hit it. I swear my phaser hit it," Gaetano said.
Spock didn't answer. Looking down at Latimer's body, he tugged at the spear shaft. It came loose in his hand, ex-posing its point-a large triangular stone, honed into shape and sharpness.
"The Folsom Point," Spock said.
"Sir?"
"Mr. Boma, this spearhead bears a remarkable resem-blance to the Folsom Point, discovered in 1926 old Earth calendar, in New Mexico, North America. Quite similar... more crudely shaped about the haft, however. Not very efficient."
"Not very efficient?" Boma was furious. "Is that all you have to say?"
Surprised, Spock looked at him. "Am I in error, Mr. Boma?"
"Error? You? Impossible!"
"Then, what-" Spock began.
"A man lies there dead! And you talk about stone spears! What about Latimer? What about the dead man?"
"A few words on behalf of the dead will not bring them back to life, Mr. Boma."
Gaetano was glaring at him, too. He spoke to Boma. "Give me a hand with Latimer, will you?" He turned to Spock. "Unless you think we should leave his body here in the interest of efficiency."
"Bringing him back to the ship should not interfere with our repair efforts. If you'd like some assistance..."
"We'll do it!" Gaetano said sharply. Nodding to Boma, they reached down to the body. As they lifted it, Spock's keen eyes were studying the spearhead's construction.
Kirk was trying to fight off a sense of complete futility.
"... and great loss." His voice was so broken as he dictated the last three words into his Captain's Log that he wondered if he should delete them. Spock... McCoy... Scott... all three of them gone, lost to the hideous blueness of what still showed on the screen.
Uhura spoke. "Captain, the Columbus has returned from searching quadrants 779X by 534M. Negative results."
"Have them proceed to the next quadrants. Any word from Engineering on the sensors?"
"They're working on them, sir. Still inoperable."
"The Transporters?"
"Still reported unsafe, sir."
"Thank you, Lieutenant."
"Captain Kirk..."
It was Ferris. "Captain, I do not relish the thought of abandoning your crewmen out there. However, I must remind you that-"
"I haven't forgotten," Kirk said wearily.
"You're running out of time," Ferris said.
A man of paper. "I haven't forgotten that, either," Kirk said. He rammed a button on his console. "This is the Captain. Try using overload power on the Transport-ers. We have to get it working." He got up to go to Uhura. "Lieutenant, order the Columbus to open its course two degrees on each lap from now on."
Sulu, surprised into protest, spoke. "But Captain, two degrees means they'll overlook more than a dozen terrestrial miles on each search loop."
Kirk turned. "It also means we'll at least have a fighting chance of checking most of the planet's surface. Mind your helm, Mr. Sulu."
Sulu flushed. "Yes, sir."
Ferris was still standing beside his command chair. He said coldly, "Twenty-four more hours, Captain." Kirk didn't answer. He stared ahead at the viewing screen. Somewhere in the midst of that mysterious blue-ness, Taurus II existed, its substance solid, its air breath-able-an oasis in the center of hell. Had Spock found it?
In the marooned Galileo, McCoy and Yeoman Mears had collected equipment to jettison. Arms laden, McCoy said, "This stuff ought to save us at least fifty pounds of weight, Spock."
"If we could scrape up another hundred pounds, what with Mr. Latimer gone..." Yeoman Mears didn't finish her sentence.
"We would still be at least one hundred and fifty pounds overweight," Spock said.
"I can't believe you're serious about leaving someone behind," McCoy said. "Whatever those creatures are out there..."
"It is more rational to sacrifice one man than six," Spock said.
"I'm not talking about rationality/"
"You might be wise to start."
Boma stuck his head through the open hatch. "We're ready, Mr. Spock."
"For what, Mr. Boma?"
"The services... for Latimer."
Spock straightened. "Mr. Boma. We are working against time."
"The man is dead. He deserves a decent burial. You're the Captain. A few words from you..."
If Spock's facial muscles had been capable of express-ing annoyance, they would have twisted with it. As they were not, he looked at McCoy. "Doctor, perhaps you know the correct words for such an occasion."
"It's your place," McCoy said.
"My place is here. If you please, Doctor."
The facial muscles of the non-Vulcans had no trouble in showing annoyance. Spock's cool detachment exceedingly irritated them. "Spock, we may all die here!" McCoy shouted. "At least let us die like men, not machines!"
"By taking care of first things first, I hope to increase our chances of not dying here." Spock moved to where Scott was still at work on the console. "Perhaps if you were to channel the second auxiliary tank through the primary intake valve, Mr. Scott."
"Too delicate, sir. It may not take the pressure as it is."
McCoy glared at Spock's stooped back. Then he fol-lowed the others out of the hatch and over to the mound of earth a few feet away from the Galileo. He bent for a handful of dirt and dropped it on the mound. "Dust thou art and to dust shalt thou return. Amen."
People's heads bowed. "Amen," they echoed. They all stood still for a minute, each with his private thoughts- and the rhythmic grating sound came from what seemed to be distance.
"What is it?" said Yeoman Mears.
McCoy had looked up. "I don't know. But it sounds manmade."
"Manmade! You wouldn't say that if you saw what I saw!" cried Gaetano. "It's them, those things out there somewhere!"
McCoy spoke to him and Boma. "You'd better stay on watch. I'll check with Mr. Spock."
He and Yeoman Mears re-entered the craft to hear a dismayed Scott cry, "The pressure's dropping, sir. We're losing everything!"
"What happened?" Spock asked.
"One of the lines gave. The strain of coming through the atmosphere... the added load when we tried to by-pass-"
McCoy interrupted. "Spock!"
The Vulcan made a gesture for silence, concentrating on Scott. Staring at a gauge, the engineer said slowly, "Well, that does it. We have no fuel at all!"
"Then that solves the problem of who to leave be-hind."
"Spock!" McCoy yelled.
"Yes, Doctor?"
"Come outside. Something's happening."
Straightening, Spock said, "You will consider the alter-natives, Mr. Scott."
Scott rose impatiently. "What alternatives? We have no fuel!"
"Mr. Scott, there are always alternatives."
He took his Vulcan calm with him as he followed Mc-Coy out of the ship. The grating noise was louder. Spock listened, as concentrated on it as he'd been on Scott. Mc-Coy glanced at his composed face. "And what do those super-sensitive ears of yours make of that?"
"Wood," Spock said. "Rubbing, on some kind of leather."
"They're getting ready," Gaetano muttered. "They'll attack."
"Not necessarily," Boma said. "It could be a simple tribal rite... assuming it's a tribal culture."
"Not a tribal culture," Spock said gently. "Their arti-facts are too primitive. Merely a loose association of some sort."
"We do not know that they are mere animals. They may well be capable of reason."
"We know they're capable of killing," Boma reminded him.
Spock looked at him. "If they are protecting themselves by their own lights..."
"That is exactly what we would be doing!" Boma argued.
Gaetano said, "The majority of us - "
"I am not interested in the opinion of the majority, Mr. Gaetano!" It was the first tune Spock had raised his voice. Now its unexpected sharpness came as a shock to all of them.
"The components must be weighed - our dangers balanced against our duty to other life forms, friendly or not." Spock paused. "There is a third course."
"It could get us all killed." But the insolence had left Gaetano.
"I think not," Spock said. "Doctor McCoy, you and Yeoman Mears will remain in the ship. Assist Mr. Scott in any way possible. We shall return shortly."
He turned to Gaetano and Boma. "You will follow my orders to the letter. You will fire only when so ordered- and at my designated targets."
"Now you're talking," said Gaetano.
"Yes, I am talking, Mr. Gaetano. And you will hear. We shall fire to frighten. Not to kill."
"If we only knew more about them," Yeoman Mears said fearfully.
"We know enough," Boma said. "If they're tribal, they'll have a sense of unity. We can use that."
"How, Mr. Boma?"
"By hitting them hard, sir. Give them a bloody nose! Make them think twice about attacking us! A good offense is the best defense!"
"I agree!" cried Gaetano. "If we just stand by and do nothing, we're just giving them an invitation to come down and slaughter us!"
Spock's face had taken on a look of grave reflection. "I am frequently appalled," he said, "by the low regard for life you Earth people have."
"We are practical about it!" Gaetano's voice shook. "I say we hit them before they hit us!"
"Mr. Boma?" Spock said.
"Absolutely."
"Doctor McCoy?"
"It seems logical to me."
"It also seems logical to me," Spock said. "But taking life indiscriminately..."
"You were quick enough to talk about leaving three of us behind," Gaetano said. "Why all the sudden solicitude about some kind of animal?"
"You saw what they did to Latimer," Boma said.
So it had to be put into words of one syllable. But Spock was a master of primitives' languages. "I am in command here, Mr. Gaetano. The orders are mine to give, as the responsibility is mine to take. Follow me."
He led the way to the crater wall. The grating sound grew still louder as the trip began the climb up the rocky escarpment. Gaetano, apprehensive, arranged himself third in position. Spock signaled a halt. The slope ahead of them loomed vague and indistinct through mist swirls. Suddenly, among the rocks immediately above them, there was movement. Spock heard it first. He tensed with alertness, readying his phaser. Something rose from be-hind the rocks, something impossibly huge. It might have been man-shaped-but he couldn't tell, for the crea-ture held an enormous leather shield before its body. Then a great spear whistled past his head. Spock, aiming his phaser, fired it.
There was a roar, half-human-a scream of pain and fear. The thing ducked behind a rock, hurling its shield downward.
Spock sidestepped to avoid its strike. He was hoisting it up as Boma and Gaetano joined him.
Awed, Gaetano whispered, "It must be twelve feet high."
Spock dropped the shield. Still leading the way, he mo-tioned the others forward. They made the crest of the crater. Now the scraping noise was louder still, harsh, rasping, broken by grunting sounds.
"The mists..." Gaetano complained. "I can't see."
"They are directly ahead of us," Spock said. "Several, I believe. You will direct your phasers to two o'clock and to ten o'clock."
"I say we hit them dead on!" Gaetano said.
Spock turned his head. "Fortunately, I am giving the orders, Mr. Gaetano. Take aim, please."
He waited. "Fire!" he said.
Whatever their targets were, they could certainly howl. Spock listened to the roaring. "Cease fire!" he said. The roaring stilled. Spock nodded, satisfied. "They should think twice before bothering us again."
"I still say we should have killed them."
"It was not necessary, Mr. Gaetano. Fear will do for us what needs to be done. Mr. Boma, return to the ship. Mr. Gaetano, you will remain here on guard, keeping visual contact with the ship."
"Out here? Alone?"
"Security must be maintained, Mr. Gaetano."
Boma said, "At least let me stay with him."
"My intention is to post you in another position, Mr. Boma."
The two exchanged terrified looks. Spock regarded them with a mild curiosity. "Gentlemen," he said, "I regret having to post you in hazardous positions. Unfor-tunately, I have no choice. In the event of danger, the ship must have warning."
"Even if some of us must die for it?"
"There is the possibility of danger, Mr. Boma. But it cannot be helped."
He began the climb back down to the ship. After a long moment, Boma turned to follow him. "Good luck, Gaetano," he said..
"Yeah, sure," Gaetano said.
As they approached the Galileo, Spock said, "Mr. Boma, your post is here, near the ship." He hoisted him-self through the hatch and Yeoman Mears said, "Did you find them, Mr.Spock?"
"We found them. I don't think they'll trouble us again.":
"I hope not," McCoy said. "Spock, Scott has some idea."
He clearly did. Scott's face was alight with idea. "It's dangerous, Mr. Spock-but it just may work."
; "Go ahead, Mr. Scott.".