Star Trek - Blish, James - 10

by 10(lit)

  "Doctor M'Benga to Sickbay."

  "Nurse... nurse..."

  She flew to the bed. Spock's eyes were open, glaring wildly as he tried to control his twisting body. Twice he struggled again to speak and failed. The third time, his trembling lips succeeded in forming words. "Quickly... strike me. Pain will... help me... to consciousness. Strike me!"

  Christine shrank back. "Hit you? No,-"

  "Strike me!" He was gasping for air. "Unless... I return to... normal consciousness quickly... it will be too late..."

  She hit him.

  "Harder..."

  She slapped him harder. His breathing improved and his voice more certain. "Again! Then again. Pain... helps me back... to consciousness."

  She struck him once more. As she hauled off for the fourth tune, Sickbay's door snapped open. Scott stood in it, jaw dropped as she landed the blow on the bedridden Spock. He leaped across the room, grabbing her arm. "What are you doing, woman?"

  M'Benga came through the open door. He strode to the bed, pushing Scott and Christine aside. Then he struck Spock with all his strength. He struck him again and again. The flabbergasted Scott was staring in horror. It was clear that the entire medical staff had gone out of its mind.

  But Spock was sitting up. "Thank you, Doctor. That will be sufficient."

  M'Benga spoke to Scott. "You can release her, Mr. Scott. She was only doing what she should have done." He gestured to the body-functions panel, whose needles were steadying into positions normal for Spock.

  "A Vulcan form of self-healing, Engineer," Spock said.

  He now astounded all but M'Benga by swinging his legs to the floor. As he made to stand, Christine moved an instinctive hand toward his arm. He congealed her with one of his arched-brow looks. "I am quite recovered, Nurse," he told her coolly.

  She took the cool line herself. "Yes, I see you are, Mr. Spock."

  The Doctor who had interned in a Vulcan ward herded everyone out of Sickbay. As the door snapped shut behind the three, Spock began knee bends.

  Tyree was not an enthusiastic student of armaments. He listened courteously while Kirk explained the eccentricities of the flintlock taken from the guard the night before; but it was clear that connections between stokers, sparks and the ignitions of gunpowder failed to arouse the martial spirit in him. Kirk placed the gun against his shoulder. "Now aim it as I showed you," he said.

  McCoy, emerging from the cave, frowned at what he saw. The gun fired obediently; but the bullet, kicking up dust near the skin target, ricochetted away.

  Tyree dropped the gun. Kirk gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder. "Very good," he said. But he had seen McCoy's look. "Not here, Bones. We'll talk in the cave."

  Tight-lipped and angry, McCoy followed him into the cave. Kirk had the look of a man who has considered all alternatives, arrived at an unpleasant decision and intends to back it up.

  They hunkered down on the cave floor and McCoy burst out. "Do I have to say it? It's not bad enough there's already a serpent in this Eden of yours teaching some of these people about gunpowder. You're going to make sure they all know about it!"

  Kirk's voice was quiet. "Exactly. Both sides must re-ceive the same knowledge, the same type of fire-arms..."

  "Have you gone out of your mind? Yes, maybe that's it. Tyree's wife. There was something in that root she used. She said that now you could refuse her nothing."

  "Nonsense! Believe me, Bones, I've agonized over this, thought it through most carefully."

  "Is it a coincidence that this is exactly what she wants? I wonder..."

  "She wants superior weapons. And that's the very thing neither side can have. Bones, listen. The normal develop-ment of this planet was status quo between the villagers and the Hillpeople. The Klingons changed that with the flintlocks. If this planet is to continue to develop as it should, we must equalize the two sides again-and keep them equal."

  McCoy stared at Kirk in unbelief. "Jim-that condemns this whole planet to a war that may never end. You'll breed battle after battle, massacre after massacre...."

  Kirk slammed his fist on the ground. "All right, Doc-tor! I've heard..." He got up as though movement might somehow move him out of this ugliness. It didn't. But he'd got himself under control. He turned back. "Let's say I'm wrong. Even say the woman drugged me. So let's hear your sober, sensible solution to all this."

  "We could collect all the firearms. Unfortunately, we can't collect the knowledge they've been given."

  "No."

  "Suppose we gave Tyree some weapon of overpower-ing force, something that would quickly frighten the villagers away." McCoy hesitated. "Trouble is, we've no guarantee what power of that kind might do even to Tyree."

  Kirk waited. Finally he said, "Remember the twentieth century-the brush wars on the Asian continent? Two giant powers involved, much like the Klingons and our-selves. Neither felt they could pull out...."

  "I remember. It went on bloody year after bloody year."

  "What would you have suggested, Bones? That one side arm its friends with an overpowering weapon? Man-kind would never have lived to travel space if that had been done!" Kirk got up to pace the length of the cave. "We can't take this planet back to where it was! The only solution is what happened then-a balance of power. If it can be kept in balance long enough..."

  "But if the Klingons give the villagers more power, what then, Jim?"

  "We give this side exactly that much more. The trickiest, most difficult, dirtiest game of them all-but the only one that preserves both sides. In whatever this planet is to become, each side has its evolutionary value."

  McCoy's face had grown deeply thoughtful. "Jim, all this time... with Tyree blindly trusting you-and you beginning to understand what you'd have to do..."

  Kirk nodded. "Agony, Doctor. I've never had a more difficult decision."

  McCoy looked at him, himself experiencing Kirk's tor-ment. "There's another morsel of agony for you. As Tyree won't fight, he'll be one of the first to die."

  "He'd be a wise leader," Kirk said. He stopped his pac-ing. "His wife's the only way to reach him. If I tell her we'll supply guns, she may persuade him. I must have a talk with her."

  She was bathing in a forest pool. Cooled and re-freshed, she finally "stepped out of it, her wet inner garment clinging to her body. There was a flat rock near the pool and she sank down on it, zestfully savoring the sun's warmth as it began to dry her streaming black hair. After a moment she reached for her small leather pouch. Selecting a small herb from it, she crushed it between her hands, applying its scent to her neck, face and shoulders. She wore the concentrated look of a woman preparing herself for a man.

  When she heard Kirk's voice call her name, she smiled to herself, unsurprised. Discarding the herb, she gave her attention to arranging her slim body advantageously.

  At the sight of her in her thin wet clothing, Kirk hesi-tated. She beckoned to him. "Stay," she said. "You are here because I wished you here."

  He smiled, correcting her. "I'm afraid this was my idea."

  "Yes, they always believe they come of free will. Tyree thought the same when I cast my first spell on him." She touched the stone beside her invitingly. "Be comfortable, Kirk. Sit down. I will not hurt you."

  After another moment of hesitation, he obeyed. She leaned toward him. "Can you smell the fragrance on me? Some find it pleasing."

  He took a fast sniff at her shoulder. "Yes, very nice," he said. "But what I want... want to talk of..." The polite smile on his lips faded. His head was spinning.

  Nona edged closer to him. He tried to draw back but his befuddled senses were stronger than his will.

  "Smell the scent again," she said. "You will find it soothing."

  "Yes, but I came to... to talk about... about..."

  From where he had been following Kirk, Tyree heard the voices. He carried the flintlock whose mechanism still puzzled him. Now he forgot the question he had planned to ask. Face set, he checked the amount of powder in the pan. Then he
moved on in the direction of the voices.

  Nona had drawn Kirk close to the herb perfume on her neck. Kirk pulled away. Fighting vertigo, he got shakily to his feet, inhaling deep gulps of fresh air. "Forgive me... I... seem... unable to think...."

  She sat very still, smiling and waiting. Kirk's eyes locked with hers. And suddenly he was smiling back, aware only of a lovely woman who seemed to desire him.

  "How beautiful!" he said. "How lovely you are, Nona!"

  Tyree raised the gun. For a moment he focused its sights on Nona. Then he swung them slowly to Kirk. Nona, in Kirk's embrace, caught the gleam of sun on the barrel. She made no move though Kirk's back was Tyree's clear target. There came the sound of the weapon's crash on a rock. Relief mixed with contempt in her face. Tyree could never be important. A man of faint heart. She lifted her arms to Kirk's neck.

  "Yes, lovely... incredibly lovely," Kirk was saying foggily.

  Tyree was running from the scene of his betrayal. As he skirted a rock, a monstrous shadow rose from behind it. The dead gumato's female mate, it had begun its swift and noiseless stalk of the Hilhnan when it was distracted by the sound of Kirk's maunderings. It swerved. Nona saw it over Kirk's shoulder. She tried to pull free but he held her tight. Fists clenched, she struck at him savagely, jerked clear of his arms and sped into a run. Then the sudden thought of Kirk's dazed helplessness halted her. Her quick stop brought a snarl from the beast. She screamed, racing for the pool. But the apelike thing cut her off at the water's edge. She shrieked again; and Kirk, slowly emerging from his confusion, fumbled for his phaser. Realization hit him. Rushing to the pool, he saw Nona prone, the great animal towering over her. He fired his phaser. The gumato vanished. Extending a hand, he helped Nona to her feet.

  The assistance exhausted his strength. His drugged state had left him so weakened that he slumped to the ground, eyes closed, breathing hard. Nona looked down at him. Then she picked up a rock. She clubbed him over the head with it. The phaser dropped from his hand. She lifted it, examining it in wonder. Then she turned and made for the forest.

  Stumbling, broken, Tyree was making his way to his lean-to when McCoy and Yutan intercepted him.

  "Where's Captain Kirk?" McCoy demanded.

  Tyree waved blindly behind him and Yutan cried, "Tyree! The firestick! Where is it?"

  "I left it... back there."

  "A fine thing to leave lying around! Show us!" McCoy shook Tyree's arm.

  It roused him. "I show you," he said.

  Pieces of the broken rifle lay on the ground. Yutan picked up the barrel. Tyree covered his face with his hands. "No! I don't want to see it!"

  McCoy was about to speak when Kirk staggered to-ward them. Still groggy from the blow, he swayed. Then he crumpled back to the ground. McCoy, taking a quick check of his pulse, broke out the hypo from his medikit.

  Meanwhile, Nona had arrived at a decision. At first sight of an armed village patrol, she had hidden herself behind a thick-leaved bush. As it approached, she made up her mind. She stepped from her concealment, con-fronting the leader of the four-man group. She lifted Kirk's phaser full into his view.

  "I bring victory to Apella!" she said. "He will have the courage to use this new weapon! Take me to him!"

  The man grinned. "Tyree's woman! A Kahn-ut-tu fe-male also. Do we entrust this division to Apella?"

  The patrolmen guffawed. The leader grabbed her, the others pressing around them. She yanked free. Then she aimed the phaser at the leader. "Touch me again-and this small box will kill you!"

  The man hesitated. But the villager behind her gave her a slight push. She wheeled to level the weapon at him. He was not impressed. All of them were grinning broadly now. They closed in about her, clutching at her, at her clothing. Ignorant of how to use the phaser, she tried to shove them away. "Fools!" she cried. "I bring you a weapon far greater than your firesticks!" Laughing, one of the men pushed her at another one. She struck out, screaming. They began to toy with her. Their laughter had acquired a dangerous edge. One of them tried to kiss her. She shrieked again.

  Kirk heard her. He reached for his phaser. "Nona! She's taken my phaser! She's in trouble! Come on..."

  There was another scream. Her thin garment was ripped now. Passed roughly from jeering man to jeering man, she beat at their faces with the phaser, screaming wildly.

  Kirk, McCoy and the two Hillmen raced down a hill to-ward her. The patrol leader, looking up, saw them. "Men," he yelled, "it's a trap! The woman tricked us!" His sharp knife gleamed. He struck.

  "Nona!" Tyree shouted.

  The leader lifted his flintlock, aimed and fired. McCoy fell.

  Kirk, Tyree and Yutan charged the patrol. The fight was hand to hand, bloody and brief. The two surviving villagers fled. McCoy, holding his wounded arm, stumbled down to the scene of the melee. Tyree was stooped over the dead body of his wife. In the dirt, trampled but un-damaged, lay the phaser. Kirk picked it up.

  "She gave it to them," McCoy said. "But they didn't recognize it."

  Kirk looked at the wounded arm. "You, too," he said.

  "Yes, me too! You and your blasted Paradise planet!"

  Tyree had straightened. He reached for an abandoned flintlock. Then he removed the powder and bullet pouch from a patrolman's dead body. He turned to Kirk, Ms grim face working with grief and fury. He extended the gun toward Kirk.

  "I want more of these! Many more!"

  "You'll have them," Kirk said.

  Tyree spoke to Yutan. "Two of those who killed my wife escaped. We shall track them down and kill them. Come! I must speak to our people."

  They set off at a run. There was a moment's silence be-fore McCoy said, "Well, you've got what you wanted."

  "Not what I wanted, Bones. What had to be."

  Amazingly, his communicator, so long silent, beeped. He flipped it open. "Kirk here."

  "Spock, Captain. I trust all has gone well."

  "Spock!" McCoy shouted. "Are you alive?"

  "A ridiculous question, Doctor. Clearly you are hear-ing my voice."

  McCoy shook his head. "I don't know why I was worried. You can't kill a computer."

  Kirk motioned him to silence. "Spock, ask Scotty how long it will take to reproduce a hundred flintlocks."

  Scott's voice spoke. "I didna get that precisely, sir. A hundred what?"

  "A hundred... serpents, Scotty. Serpents for the Garden of Eden." He paused. "We're very tired, Mr. Spock. Beam us up back home."

  THE OMEGA GLORY

  (Gene Roddenberry)

  The disease which had killed every crew member aboard the USS Exeter was a mystery. Everything about the other starship was mysterious. Why was it still pa-trolling an orbit around the planet Omega IV when it was scheduled to end its mission six months ago? The patrol was the current assignment of the USS Enterprise. That was the enigma which had caused Kirk to decide to transport his landing party aboard the Exeter.

  And what he had been expecting was an undamaged starship full of dead men. If that had been an accurate description of the situation he'd walked into, Kirk would have been grateful. Dead men were a tragic but natural phenomenon. But there was nothing natural about the Exeter. That was the horror. The ship wasn't full of dead men. It was full of empty uniforms.

  Phaser still in hand, he watched McCoy stooping over a collapsed uniform in the Exeter's engineering section. A scattering of white crystals extended from its neck and sleeves. McCoy, waving him and Spock away, bent closer over the uniform, taking care not to touch it.

  Lieutenant Raintree rushed up to him, his face sick. "Just the uniforms... all over the ship, Captain! And that... white stuff spilling out of them!"

  Spock said, "As if they'd been in them when...." His words trailed off into silence.

  "Exactly," Kirk said. "When what?" He spoke to McCoy. "Bones, let's get to the bridge. Mr. Spock can replay the Captain's last log entry. They may have had time to record whatever was happening to them."

  A blue crew uniform was crumple
d on the deck be-side the computer station. Spock stepped over it to turn on the mechanism. McCoy, his tricorder unslung, was examining the tiny white granules at the end of its sleeves. He lifted his head. "Jim, analysis says these crystals are thirty-five percent potassium, carbon eighteen percent, phosphorus 1.0 and calcium 1.5."

  "I have the surgeon's report, Captain," Spock said. "It seems to be the log's last-"

  McCoy interrupted. "Jim! The crew hasn't left! They're still here!" At the look on Kirk's face, he went on. "This white powder... it's what's left of the human body when you remove the water from it. We're all ninety-eight percent water. Take it away, and we're just three or four pounds of chemicals. Something crystallized the chemicals in these people. It reduced them to this."