by James Blish
Was it that acceptance of mortality which gave him the momentary detachment he so needed? In it, as though from a great distance, he saw the bald thing lift its spear, hurl it at him, and he ducked it. It entered Lars's stomach.
Who's to know?
There are divinites that shape our ends of which we know nothing. Vigor renewed itself in Kirk. He struggled out of the net, and the bald alien, snatching it up, yanked its dagger from its belt. Now it was armed with net, dagger and quarterstaff.
It feinted with the staff, grabbing his whip from him, but Kirk reached for it, recovered it and threw it clear of the game floor. Now it was repellently close body contact with the freak, its nose shields fluttering in Kirk's face. He wrested himself free, making another forward leap to the yellow circle.
But once more the net descended. The bald one dived at him. Somehow, he released his dagger hand, and pushing the thing aside, lashed out with his own dagger across the purple body. It collapsed, not dead, but so wounded that it couldn't rise. And at once, as Lars had been, was dragged from the field of battle by expressionless fellow Thralls, moving in from the sidelines.
Behind it, it left a thick pool of purple blood. Kirk closed his eyes against the sight. What a planet! If this insane mayhem was the result of supreme intellect, the humanoids of the galaxy would be well advised to go back to primeval seas as protozoa.
He opened his eyes. Vaulting over a blue circle, he landed on the yellow triangle's sanctuary for what he had seen was Shahna, her spear lifted, racing at him from the sidelines to challenge him.
He moved unsteadily to meet her, the muscles of his legs unreliable and barely able to clutch the splintered half of his quarterstaff.
"You lied," she said. "Everything you said . . ." and lunged at him. He fell to one knee. Then hacking his way upright, he called on all his brute strength to get under her guard and drive his blade's point into her breast.
Kill a woman in cold blood. He'd never done it. He paused, but Shahna was preparing for the death thrust, pulling back to gain impetus for another lunge at him. Then she knocked his blade aside to press her own against his heart.
Their blades crossed, bringing them face to face.
Suddenly, her lower lip began to tremble. "You—you did lie."
Her whispered breath was fragrant as roses. And once more the indefinable shuttle between man and woman was moving, interlacing, as mysteriously powerful as the divinities shaping our ends. Would it continue its weaving? All she'd ever known was fighting; but love? Only what he'd been able to teach her.
The dark-lashed eyes were deep in his, asking, searching.
Tears flooded the eyes. Dropping her blade, she turned to a wall, crying, "The Thralls surrender!"
He'd have to leave her, but he'd made a woman out of her. And who was to profit by her loveliness? Kloog . . . the bald horror? There were disadvantages to command of a Starship, roaming, roaming endlessly through the galaxy.
He was about to take her in his arras when he heard the voice of Provider One.
"You have won, Captain Kirk. Unfortunately. However, the terms of the wager will be honored. You are free. Remove your collars. Thralls, hear me!"
Kirk placed his hand on Shahna's collar. It came away easily. Then as he removed his own, he heard clash after metallic clash of other collars striking the floor. Shahna stared at the broken symbol of her slavery in his hand, unbelieving. Then the sapphire eyes veered to him. At the look in them, it was just as well that Galt reached them, carrying his former prisoners' phasers and communicators.
Kirk addressed a wall. "The Thralls will he trained?"
"They will be trained. We have said it, Captain Kirk."
"You may find that a more exciting game than the one you have been playing. A body is no good without a brain. But you've found a brain isn't worth much without a body."
Shahna said, "Darling."
He looked down at her. No, they could share no future. If only . . . He pulled himself together. "I didn't lie, Shahna. I only did what was necessary. Someday, you'll understand."
"I—I understand a . . . little. You will leave us now?"
He nodded, unable to speak.
"To go back to the lights in the sky? I . . . want to go to . . . those lights . . . with you. Take me."
"I can't."
"Then teach me how, and I'll follow you."
Providers, witnesses notwithstanding, he took her in his arms. "There are many things you have to learn first—things the Providers will teach you. Learn them. All your people must learn them before you can reach for the stars."
Holding her closer, he kissed her.
"Goodbye, darling, my darling."
Then he released her; and striding quickly across the board, joined the awed Chekov and Uhura. Nor did he look back as he opened his communicator.
"Beam us up, Mr. Scott."
The well-known voice said, "Aye, sir."
Alone on the board, Shahna watched the shimmer as his body went into sparkle—and he was gone with his people.
She bowed her head to hide the tears. "Goodbye, my Kirk. I will learn. And watch the lights in . . . the sky . . . and always, always remember."
So would he. But gradually—and mercifully—the memory of Triskelion's beautiful woman would begin to fade, along with the sweetness of her breath on his face.
AND THE CHILDREN SHALL LEAD
(Edward J. Lakso)
* * *
From standard orbit, the planet Triacus appeared perfectly normal, even placid. But Starfleet Command had received a distress call. No details had been included.
"Isn't Triacus where Professor Starnes and his expedition are working?" asked Captain Kirk.
Mr. Spock nodded. "It's the only M-type planet in the system. According to the records, Dr. Starnes and his colleagues found it sufficiently pleasant to bring their families along."
"Starnes taught at the Academy. I remember him—nice old fellow. And knew his stuff."
"He is a very capable scientist, Captain."
"Prepare the Transporter Room. You and I and Dr. McCoy will beam down in ten minutes."
"Certainly, Captain."
It was a dry, dusty sort of place to have chosen to set up camp. Rock formations emerged from the flat ground, the sun casting sharp shadows. The few listless shrubs were drab, except for the spatters of bright red blood.
Picks and water bottles lay scattered among the fallen bodies of men and women. Shocked, McCoy knelt to examine a crumpled shape that still held a weapon pointed at its own ruined head.
"Dr. Starnes!" Kirk's shout burst the stunned silence. Over the rock stumbled a wild-haired middle-aged man who fell to his knees as his shaking hands held a phaser pistol aimed straight at the Captain.
"Dr. Starnes! It's me, Kirk!" Unprepared, Kirk groped for his own weapon. But with an agonized twist, the man dropped and lay still. Kirk started toward him; McCoy was there before him.
"He's dead, Captain."
"He didn't seem to know me," said Kirk wonderingly. "He tried to kill me." He picked up the pistol, and nearly tripped over a woman whose body was contorted beneath her bluish face. He stooped and pried a plastic capsule from her hand. He sniffed at it doubtfully.
"Cyalodin!"
McCoy examined the capsule, then the woman. "Self-inflicted," he said briefly. "What's been going on here?"
Mr. Spock had been searching the body of the professor. Now he brought over the tricorder that had been over the shoulder of the dead man, and flipped the switch.
". . . me . . . must destroy ourselves. The alien . . . upon us, the enemy from within . . . the enemy . . ." came in a painful, choking voice. Spock snapped it off. Kirk stared around at the scene of desolation.
"All this—self-inflicted?"
McCoy nodded. "A mass suicide."
As Spock was removing the tapes from the professor's tricorder, there was a giggle. The rising trill of children's laughter sounded from behind the shrubs.
A
girl and four boys poured over the rock and stopped at the sight of the Enterprise crew.
"Hi. Who are you?" said the tallest boy, with complete self-possession.
"Kirk, of the Starship Enterprise."
"I'm Tommy Starnes. This is Mary, and Steve, Ray and Don."
"Come on, play with us!" said Mary, dancing around Kirk's legs. Kirk and the others stared around them at the grisly battlefield and found themselves seized by their hands and pulled into a wild ring-around-the-rosy, pocketful of posy, and dragged into helpless crouching at "all fall down!" among the dead.
They buried the members of the Starnes exploration party in the shadow of the rock. The inscription:
STARNES EXPLORATION PARTY
STAR DATE 5039.5
IN MEMORIAM
O'Connell
Tsiku
Linden
Jaworski
Starnes
Wilkins still glowed warm where it had been burned into the rock with phasers. Kirk reverently placed the United Federation of Planets green-and-red flag, with its circle of UFP symbols around a center of stars, upon the grave. The Enterprise men were respectful and silent; the burial detail had been profoundly shocked.
The children, standing in a stiff row, tried to look solemn, and succeeded only in looking bored. Steve nudged Mary restlessly. Mary whispered something in Don's ear. They glanced at Kirk.
Finally, Mary said in a not-quite whisper, "Let's go and play!" and the five disappeared in a flurry of shouting.
"What's the matter with them? No sign of grief at all," said Kirk.
"No, Jim, no indication of any kind," said McCoy gravely.
"Or fear?"
"They seem completely secure and unafraid. But it's possibly the effect of traumatic shock."
"I can't believe it. For a child to suppress the fact that both parents are dead . . ."
The dry voice of Spock remarked, "Humans do have an amazing capacity for choosing what they wish to believe—and excluding that which is painful."
"Not children, Spock. Not to this extent. It's incredible."
"What those children saw is incredible, Jim." McCoy was quietly insistent. "The way these deaths occurred, any reaction is possible, including lacunar amnesia. That's my diagnosis, until specific tests can be made."
Kirk shook his head. "I'll have to be guided by that for the present, Doctor. But surely I can question them."
"No. Certainly not until the fabric of traumatization has weakened, or you can find another explanation for their behavior. Forcing them to see this experience now could cause permanent damage. Such amnesia is a protection against the intolerable."
Kirk had to accept this. "But, Bones, whatever happened here is locked up inside those children."
The cheerful sounds of children at play had been present throughout. Now Tommy was tying a blind-fold around the eyes of Steve, the smallest boy, and the others dashed for cover behind the rocks as Tommy turned him round and round. As Steve began to grope, Tommy tiptoed backward softly—and tripped. Steve jumped gleefully on top, crying, "Tommy, Tommy! I caught you!" The others danced out of hiding, shouting all at once.
Kirk detached Steve from Tommy's back and helped the tall boy to his feet.
"Hurt yourself?"
"Nah. I'm okay." The others were trying to reach Tommy's head with the blindfold.
"It's Tommy's turn, it's Tommy's turn!"
It was all Kirk could do to outshout them. "Children! It's time to leave here and go up to the ship."
"Oh, no, not yet. We're just beginning to have some fun! Not now, please?" came a chorus of protest.
Kirk searched their faces for some other reaction.
"I'm sorry. It's getting late. You'll have to go with Dr. McCoy."
But all they did was grumble, disappointed. "Only five more minutes, huh, please? It's still Tommy's turn and everything! . . . And I didn't have a turn yet . . ."
McCoy took charge of them. They didn't look back toward the camp at all.
Kirk and Spock stood for a moment by the graves. The flag fluttered peacefully.
"If it's not lacunar amnesia that's blanking out their minds, there may be something here that is doing it."
"The attack on Professor Starnes's party must surely have been unprovoked," said Spock musingly.
"Attack? It seems to be mass suicide."
"I stand corrected, Captain. 'Induced' would be a more precise term. Induced by an outside force."
Alert, Kirk said, "Such as?"
"The release of bacteria. Or a helpless mental depression. A state of suicidal anxiety. These could be chemically induced."
"What would make the children immune?"
"I do not know. But it is a possibility, Captain. A severe form of schizophrenia leading to a helpless depressive state could be chemically created."
"With the children intentionally free."
Spock nodded. "A valid hypothesis."
"We shall have to investigate this place more thoroughly. We'll go aboard now."
Animals and children start off on the right footing in a new environment when provided immediately with a little something to stave off the pangs of starvation. Nurse Christine Chapel mounted an expedition to the Commissary. When it comes to ice cream flavors, a computer can outdo a fairy godmother.
"All right, children," said Christine, holding out a fistful of colored cards. "Each color means a different flavor. Take your pick and the computer will mix it; just call out your favorite."
The five voices clamored in urgent delight. "Orange-vanilla-cherry-apricot-licorice-CHOC'LIT!" she handed two cards to each child. Four of them dashed to the insert slot and jammed their cards in. The smallest, Steve, was clearly stuck. His face conveyed agonies of indecision.
"Would you like to be surprised, Stevie?" asked Nurse Chapel gently.
Relieved, he nodded. She inserted two cards at random. The read-out panel twinkled and the computer hummed, and eagerly Steve opened the little window and withdrew a heaping dish.
He looked up at her from somewhere around her knees with tear-filled eyes. He said sorrowfully, "But it's coconut and vanilla. It's all white!"
She patted him. "There, there now, Stevie. There are unpleasant surprises as well as pleasant ones. That was your unpleasant surprise. Now what would you like for the pleasant one?"
There is nothing like knowing what you don't want, after all, for clarifying a decision. Stevie said, loud and clear, "Chocolate wobble and pistachio."
"Coming right up." The crisis was past.
"And peach."
Trying not to think about it, Christine submitted the required cards to the machine. "Oh, this is going to be a wonderful surprise."
Not vastly surprised, Steve accepted the huge mound of colors with satisfaction and trotted off to join the others at the table. The clinking of spoons and chatter overwhelmed the voices of Kirk and McCoy, who stood watching in the doorway.
"The tests show no, evidence of tension due to lying," said McCoy glumly. "They behave as if nothing were wrong. Physically, they check out completely sound. And there's no sign of any biochemical substance to account for their present state. I have no answers, Jim."
"There has to be an answer." Kirk stared at the laughing group, absorbed in ice cream.
"Why can't it wait till we get to Starbase Hospital, where they can be checked by a child specialist? I'm no pediatrician."
"We're not leaving here till I know what went on—or what's going on."
McCoy shrugged. "Well, I won't forbid you to question them. But it could harm them."
"It could be far worse for them if I don't—and for us too."
McCoy gave him an uncertain glance. "Be careful, Jim."
Kirk nodded and eased his way over to the table, where there was much scraping of last bits from bottoms of bowls.
". . . and after this we can play games," Christine Chapel was saying cheerfully.
"Mmmm, yeah . . . that was fun . . . some more . . ."
surfaced from the general babble.
"Well, well," said Kirk, smiling. "You seem to be having such a good time over here, I think I'll join you. Is that all right?"
"Please do," said Mary formally.
"I'll have a dish too—a little one. A very little one," he said to Christine.
"Of course."
"Very little," he said meaningfully. And then to the children, "This is better than Triacus, isn't it?" Five faces turned to him with the look of disappointed resignation that children give to hopeless adults. "That dirty old planet?" said Don scornfully.
Ray's snub nose wrinkled so hard as to nearly disappear. "What's to like about that place?"
Mary explained. "You weren't there very long, Captain. You don't know."
"I don't think your parents liked it much either."
"Yes, they did," said Tommy quickly, echoed by, "Mine sure did. Mine too."
Don summed it up. "Parents like stupid things." Christine Chapel saw an opportunity. "I don't know about that. Parents like children."
"Ha," said Mary. "That's what you think."
"I'm sure your parents loved you," said Kirk. "That's why they took you with them all the way to Triacus, so you wouldn't be so far away for so long a time. That would have made them unhappy; they would miss you. Wouldn't you miss them too?"
The children looked at each other, and away. They squirmed. Tommy looked thoughtful for a split second and then said, grinning, "Bizzy! Bizzy, bizzy!"
It exploded into laughter as they all joined in. "Bizzy-bizzy-bizzy-bizzy . . ." They jumped up and chased around the room, bumping each other and shouting, "Bizzy, bizzy, bizzy!" Don called, "Guess what we are?"
"A swarm of bees!" said Christine.
They shook their heads and screamed with laughter. Mary's voice rose above them all, crying, "Watch out! I'll sting you!"
"A swarm of adults," said Kirk softly. The laughter missed a beat, and rose shrilly. Kirk caught Mary as she careened into him with a face of near-fury. "Now wait a minute . . ."
Tommy said hastily, "Can we have some more ice cream, please?"