Star Trek - Blish, James - 10

by 10(lit)

  But the strange Captain's words failed to satisfy an agi-tated Sulu. Tracy's communicator beeped again. He opened it with irritation. But there was no trace of it in the bland voice that said, "Mr. Sulu, let's have an end to this. I am trying to save the life of your Captain. What you heard was not the start of an order to you. It was the cry of a man in delirium. Speak to your medical staff. They will tell you that delirious people shout because they are suffering. I am doing my best to reduce your Captain's. I will keep you informed of his state on condi-tion you permit me to attend to it. Tracy out."

  The vague shadow in the doorway gradually assumed the shape of one of Tracy's militiamen. Kirk discovered that he could see again. McCoy's makeshift lab. His arms hurt. They were bound. He sat up. The head at the door-way didn't turn. Then the hot rage surged through him again, galvanic. Head down, he charged the militiaman guard. He knocked him off balance and was preparing to charge again when Tracy pushed the guard aside with a terse "Leave us!"

  Kirk sat down on the bench. In his own ears the scorn in his voice bit like acid. "Captain Ronald Tracy, per Starfleet Command regulation six, paragraph four. I merely mention it."

  The smile he got was as false as the man. He'd bit home.

  "I know," Tracy said. " 'You must now consider your-self under arrest unless in the presence of your most senior fellow officers, you give satisfactory answers to etcetera, etcetera, etcetera.'" He nodded. "Those are the first words duty requires you to say to me. Consider them said. You're covered. How about moving on to the next subject?"

  "Which is 'why?' " Kirk said.

  "Good. Direct, succinct." Moving some of McCoy's equipment aside, Tracy sat down on the lab table. "Answer: whatever it is that's immunizing us now has pro-tected the inhabitants of this place against all sickness. And for thousands of generations. Soon your doctor is going to discover what mine did. No native of this planet has ever experienced any kind of disease. How long would a man live with all disease erased, Jim?"

  "He might stay young a hundred years, live to be two hundred maybe."

  Tracy went to the door, calling. Wu came in. "Tell Captain Kirk your age," Tracy said.

  "I have seen forty-two years of the red bird. But my eldest brother-"

  Tracy broke in. "Their year of the red bird comes every eleven years. Wu has seen it forty-two times. You can multiply. Wu is four hundred and sixty-two years old. Or more, since the year here is longer. His father is well over a thousand. Interested, Jim?"

  "It's not impossible, I suppose," Kirk said.

  "I said... are you interested?"

  "Of course I'm interested! I expect McCoy could verify all this easily enough."

  "He will if you order it! We must have a doctor re-searching this!" He leaned forward with that special intensity characteristic of him. "Are you grasping all this im-munizing agent here implies? Once it's located, it is a fountain of youth! Virtual immortality!"

  "For sale by... ?"

  Kirk waited for Tracy's nod. He got it.

  "For sale by those who own the serum," Tracy said. "McCoy will eventually isolate it. Meanwhile, we inform your ship you're still sick. Order it away. When we're ready, we'll bargain for a whole fleet to pick us up if we want it. They'll send it."

  "Yes, I guess they would," Kirk said.

  "In the meantime, we've got to stay alive. Let the Yangs destroy what we've got to offer by killing us-and we've committed a crime against all humanity! I'd say that's slightly more important than the Prime Directive, wouldn't you?"

  Kirk had gotten one arm free of his bonds. He came to his feet fast; and was yanking the other one loose when he saw Wu stiffen.

  "Tra-cee!" The militiaman shouted.

  Cool, easy, self-assured, Tracy rose from the table. Kirk's right arm was held by the thong just an instant too long. Tracy's expert swing cracked against his jaw, sending him stumbling to his knees. He jerked his right arm clear of the noose. Tracy pulled back for a feinted swing; and Kirk, dodging, exposed his jaw to a judo chop that spun him around. He recovered, lashed out with his right fist- and Tracy, moving with the blow, chopped him again, slamming him to the floor.

  "Not bad, Jim," he said. "Considering I'm larger, faster, more experienced than you are, it wasn't bad at all." He yanked Kirk to his feet. "In better shape, too, I fancy. Physical fitness has always been one of my-"

  Kirk pivoted, lunging for his chin. Tracy ducked. He lifted his hard hand for another chop. Once more he smashed Kirk to the floor.

  This time he didn't pull him to his feet. Instead, he strode to the door to call Wu and two militiamen. Point-ing to Kirk, he said, "Bring him!"

  They took him to the village jail.

  There was a rack of swords in its outer room. That was all Kirk had tune to register before he was dragged to the inner area. The cells were fitted, not with bars, but with elaborate grills. The first one held the two Yangs who had escaped execution. The powerful male appeared to be anything but grateful. Snarling with rage, he'd thrust an arm through the grillwork, trying to reach the yellow-skinned militiaman who stood guard at the next cell, which confined Spock and McCoy.

  Tracy, his own phaser leveled at Kirk, handed the three Enterprise weapons to Wu. "Give these to your men. Tell them we leave soon. This time we'll ambush the Yangs with many fireboxes," He pointed to McCoy. "Have the Doctor taken back to his work place. The one with the pointed ears stays."

  McCoy made a protesting move; and Kirk said, "Go ahead, Bones, continue your research."

  As McCoy left with Wu, Tracy jerked a thumb toward the Yangs' cell. "And you, Jim, take a close look at that."

  The male's eyes were a blue blaze of fury. Yet, taking that good look at him, Kirk discerned a certain stoicism underlying the ferocity-a kind of native dignity that sug-gested the man was a person of consequence in his tribe. As to the young woman, there was a supple grace even in the way she leaned back against the cell wall, her eyes alert under her shock of unkempt blond hair.

  "Animals which happen to look like us," Tracy said. "You still believe the Prime Directive's for this planet, Jim?"

  Kirk said, "We lack the wisdom to interfere in how this planet is evolving."

  Tracy wheeled to his men. "Put him in there! If logic won't work, maybe that will!" They hesitated, incredulous. "Put him in there!" Tracy shouted.

  Fearfully they opened the cell door. The Yangs rushed at them. Beating them back with sword and spear butts, two militiamen hastily shoved Kirk inside, slamming shut the heavy iron grating. It was locked and the keys replaced in a table drawer. Kirk faced around to see that the Yangs had begun to circle him like wolves stalking fresh meat.

  He addressed the male. "If you understand me-"

  A foot smashed against his shin. He tripped-and the Yang was on him, hands at his throat. Instead of righting the choking fingers, he twisted suddenly; and doubling his legs up, lashed out in a hard kick that caught the man in the midriff. But the blow won him only a moment's respite. The Yang used his crash against the wall to roll into a crouch and begin the stalking again.

  Tracy, turning to leave, called, "Remember that Prime Directive, Jim!"

  The circling went on as though both Yangs drew on in-exhaustible springs of energy. The female, seeing an opening, leaped on Kirk's back; and he had to turn to slam her away, pivoting just in time to fight off the male. Then once more the stalking began.

  In his own cell, Spock, pressed against the grilled door, was straining to see into Kirk's. "Don't they ever rest, Spock?" Kirk yelled. His uniform shirt was ripped. And he was becoming aware of diminishing strength. There'd been that black-out from Wu's sword-butt crash on the head. Tracy's judo chops hadn't been so salubrious, either. Now here was the strain of a constant vigilance as these tireless Yangs watched for an off-guard moment. Just five seconds rest... He spoke to the Yang. "At least tell me why you want to kill me!"

  Spock called, "Keep trying to reason with them, Captain. It is completely illogical that they-"

  "
I am very aware that this is illogical, Mr. Spock!"

  The Yang jumped him again. The struggle sent the woman flying against the door's iron lattice. Spock reached an arm out to give her his Vulcan neck pinch. The male paused in amazement as she collapsed. He went to her, trying to shake her awake. Disturbed by his failure, he leaned against the door to peer into Spock's cell.

  The Vulcan was at its window, pulling at its or-nate grillwork. Watching, the savage saw him heave his full weight against the iron embedded in the ancient mor-tar. A thin trickle of crumbled dust fell on the sill. Spock called to Kirk. "I think I've loosened my window grill a bit. If the mortar on yours is as old..."

  "I can't even test it. Not with them on me every mo-ment."

  But the Yang had held off. Kirk eyed him. The woman sprawled at his feet was slowly reviving. Once conscious again, would she incite her mate to resume the stalk? "Keep talking, Spock. Don't let me doze off."

  "Captain Tracy mentioned there apparently was a con-siderable civilization here at one time. A war is the most likely explanation of its ruin, Captain. Nuclear destruction or a bacteriological holocaust."

  "An interesting theory," Kirk said. "Better keep work-ing on your window, Spock, if we're ever to regain our freedom."

  In the very act of renewed attack, the Yang male froze. "Free-dohm?" he said. He was staring at Kirk with mixed curiosity and awe. "Free-dohm," he repeated.

  "Spock!"

  "I heard, Captain. Ask him if he knows what it means."

  "That is a worship word-Yang worship!" cried the savage. "You will not speak it!"

  Kirk said, "It is our worship word, too. Perhaps we are brothers."

  "You live with the Kohms!"

  "Am I not a prisoner of the Kohms now, like your-self?"

  He let it rest there. Moving to the cell window, he began to tug at its grillwork. It was immovable. He flung a shoulder against it-and was rewarded with a small sifting of powdered mortar. The Yang looked at his mate. She rose to her feet, lithe as ever, and they both came over to join him. All three pushed their combined weight at the lattice. More mortar fell; and Kirk, turning to the Yang, said, "Why did you not speak until now?"

  "You spoke to Kohms. They are for killing only."

  The listening Spock called, "Is your window giving, sir?"

  "A little... we'll get yours next."

  Their following heave broke the grill loose at one corner. Now they had leverage. Twisting and bending the iron, they released its top. The old mortar finally surren-dered. It was the Yang who wrenched it free. Smiling, Kirk turned his head toward Spock's cell, calling, "Stand by, Mr. Spock. We'll have you out in-"

  "Captain!" Spock yelled.

  The warning came too late. The heavy grill had caught Kirk on the temple, felling him, unconscious, to the floor.

  The Yang shoved his mate through the open window. Spock saw him hoist himself up to the sill, and disap-pear.

  "Captain?"

  Spock, crouched at his cell door, tried to reach the unmoving body of Kirk. But it had fallen under the open window at the other side of the cell.

  The recovery of consciousness came slower this time. Finally, hearing Kirk move, Spock left his cell window to hurry to its door.

  "Captain?"

  "Spock? How long?"

  "About seven hours, sir."

  Seven hours out... a rest of sorts. Blood had dried on Kirk's face. Trying to move, he winced at the tide of pain that washed over him. The iron lattice lay beside him. He used its support to get groggily to his feet. Over his head the open window gaped. Stumbling, he put the grill at a slant under the window. Then he climbed it, hauling him-self the shortened distance up to the sill. In the alley out-side, he located the jail's rear door. It opened; and he hurried to the table drawer where the cells' keys had been placed.

  It was Spock who discovered that Tracy had placed a guard in McCoy's quarters. The man stiffened at the scratching noise that came from the door. McCoy, ob-livious to everything but his portable computer, didn't so much as look up. When the scratching came again, the guard carefully opened the door. He literally stuck his neck out for Spock's Vulcan pinch. He folded, dropping his sword. Spock had him dragged inside the room before McCoy looked up to register a world beyond his com-puter.

  "Oh... Jim," he said. "Good morning."

  Spock, eyeing the lab equipment, saw an instrument that might lend itself to conversion into a communica-tions signaler.

  "I can cross-circuit this unit, Captain. We can contact the Enterprise in a few moments."

  "Bones," Kirk said, "what have you found?"

  "I'm convinced now that there was once a frightful biological war. The virus still exists. The crew of the Exeter was killed by it; we contracted it, too. But over the years nature has built up immunizing agents in the food, water, soil... "

  Spock, busy with tools, observed, "The war created an imbalance: nature counterbalanced."

  McCoy nodded. "These natural immunizers just need time to work. That's the real tragedy. If the Exeter landing party had stayed here just a few hours longer, they never would have died."

  Taking in the statement's implications, Kirk said, "Then we can leave any tune we want to?"

  McCoy nodded again. Kirk's face lightened with his first grin in a long time. Then it disappeared. "Tracy," he said, "is convinced this immunizing agent could be-come a fountain of youth. Isolate it, make a serum, in-ject it into others."

  "Poppycock!" McCoy snorted.

  "Bones, some of them here live to be a thousand years old."

  "Possible. Because their ancestors who survived had to have superior resistance. And they developed powerful protective antibodies in their blood during the wars. You want to destroy a whole world, maybe your descendants can develop a longer life-but I hardly think it's worth it."

  "Then any serum you develop out of this is useless."

  McCoy shrugged. "Who knows? It might finally cure the common cold. But lengthen our lives? I can do more for you if you'd eat right and exercise regularly."

  Over at the corner bench where he'd been working on the lab instrument, Spock made some final adjustment; and looked up to say, "Somewhat crude, Captain, but I can signal the snip with this. No voice contact possible, of course."

  "That will be quite sufficient, Mr. Spock." Kirk was moving toward the bench when the signaler in Spock's hand glowed red under the brilliant beam of a phaser. It disappeared-and Spock was slammed violently back-ward, grazed by the fierce energy in the scorching beam.

  Tracy, his uniform spattered with blood, was leaning against the doorframe, disheveled, wild-eyed. He low-ered the phaser. "No messages," he said. He glanced around the room. "Kirk, the Yang in the cell with you. Did you set him free?"

  Kirk ignored him to join McCoy, who was kneeling be-side the wounded Spock. "Alive at least," McCoy said briefly.

  "The savage, Kirk! Did you send him to warn the tribes?

  Kirk looking up, saw that Tracy was badly shaken. "What happened?" he said. "Where are your men?"

  "The Yangs must have been warned. They sacrificed hundreds just to draw out into the open. Then they came... and came... and came." His voice trembled. "We drained three of our four phasers and they still came! We killed thousands and they still came!"

  Tracy became suddenly aware that he was shouting. He made a visible effort to control himself, and McCoy, intent on Spock, said, "He'll live. But I'll have to get him to better facilities than these."

  "Impossible," Tracy said, "You can't carry the disease back up to your ship."

  "He's fully immunized now," McCoy told him. "All of us are!"

  "We can beam up any time, Tracy," Kirk said. "Any of us."

  "You've isolated the serum?"

  "There is no serum!" Kirk said. "There are no miracles here-no immortality! All this has been for noth-ing!

  Tracy stared at him, dumbfounded. Then, unbelieving, he looked at McCoy. "Explain to me, Doctor! Explain!"

  "Leave medicine to medi
cal men, Captain!" McCoy snapped. "You've found no fountain of youth! They live longer here because it is now natural for them to live longer!"

  Color drained from Tracy's face. Even the cuts on it had gone pale. He raised his phaser, motioning Kirk to the door with it. "Outside," he said. "Or I'll burn down both your friends now."

  He'd do it, too, Kirk knew. "Do what you can for him, Bones," he said and walked to the door.

  The frightened villagers had left the street empty.

  Tracy, phaser pointed at Kirk, tossed him a communi-cator. "Let's see how willing you are to die," he said. "Call your ship!"