Star Trek 12

by James Blish

  "Lieutenant!" said Kirk sharply. Then more gently "What are you staring at?" Uhura moaned.

  "My death," whispered the beautiful Bantu. "A long, long death. Ancient with disease and pain. Disease and death." Her voice rose to a scream. "I see my death!"

  Kirk stared at her console. For a fleeting second, he saw Uhura's face, hideously disfigured and nearly bald, a gray mass of wrinkles. But as he blinked, the station was its usual neat assembly of equipment.

  "There's nothing there but your communicators," he said.

  She was whimpering. "God help me. Please don't let it, Captain. Don't let it be!"

  Kirk's glance fell on Mary, hunched up in total concentration. She was singing very softly. ". . . shall she see . . . a dying old hag where a girl should be . . ."

  Uhura moaned, touched her smooth young face and stared in paralyzed horror.

  "Spock, you make the call to Starfleet." Kirk turned helplessly away from Uhura's anguish, only to see Sulu's eyes staring wildly at his screen.

  "Sulu, I ordered you to change course!" Kirk strode to the station and reached for the controls.

  Sulu struck his hand away. "Captain! Sir!" His eyes never strayed from his screen. "Stay away from the controls! Or we'll be destroyed!"

  "But Mr. Sulu, there's nothing there!" said Kirk angrily.

  "Can't you see them? The missiles? They're coming at us by thousands!"

  "There are no missiles, Mr. Sulu." Kirk reached for the console. Sulu struck him away.

  "Leave them alone! If we touch anything, we will be hit! You'll kill us all!"

  Spock's voice came coolly from behind him. "Captain, why are we bothering Starfleet?"

  What had happened to his crew? Could nobody take an order at all—even Spock? His First Officer met his look defiantly.

  "This bridge is under complete control," said Spock. "There's no need to alert Starfleet."

  "Take a look around you," said Kirk. Sulu, staring fixedly at his viewscreen, blind to everything but the terror-image before him; Uhura, crouching in agony at her console; and Tommy, whose freckled boy-face had taken on a look of unrelenting hardness. Spock closed his eyes. Kirk watched him anxiously as he stood shuddering very slightly, fighting to regain control of his mind.

  Tommy too began to shudder. Spock opened his eyes and returned to the Communications station. He reached for the instruments. His hands stopped.

  "I cannot obey your order, Captain," he said.

  Kirk opened the intercom. "Send up two security guards." When they appeared in the doorway, he said, Take Mr. Sulu to his quarters."

  The guards looked at him blankly.

  "You wanted us, sir?"

  "Take Mr. Sulu to his quarters. Now!" The guards simply stood there, looking bewildered. Kirk began to grow angry. "I gave you an order. Take Mr. Sulu to his quarters at once and don't just stand there like a couple of . . . What the hell's the matter with you?" The guards looked at one another and shrugged.

  "Must be some sort of joke," said one.

  Kirk shouted furiously. "Can't you hear me? I will have my orders obeyed immediately, d'you hear?" He lunged at the guard. The man shoved him back calmly and the two coolly departed. Kirk started after them, only to find himself restrained by Mr. Spock. He stood for a moment, undecided. His eye fell on Tommy.

  Kirk knew who to blame for this mess. He strode toward the boy, his hand raised. If ever any kid was asking for a good walloping . . .

  And he couldn't do it. He couldn't hit a little boy. The little boy smiled with satisfaction.

  Kirk turned back to Spock. His knees buckled in reaction to the waves of adrenalin that had been pouring through him. He had to hold Spock's arm for support.

  "Captain, we must get off this bridge." Spock guided him, stumbling, into the elevator.

  Kirk felt cold sweat on his forehead. Not even Spock obeyed orders. The ship was out of control. His crew had gone mad, or mutinous. He was losing command, even of his own legs. Fear grew in him, and he lurched, clinging to Spock. He couldn't trust Spock, though. He couldn't trust anyone. He couldn't command a single crewman. He had lost the Enterprise.

  "I'm losing command," he muttered, sweating again, the heat of fear overcoming the coldness. His legs were strong, strong, but wouldn't hold him up. He stared at the treacherous satanic face of his First Officer. "I'm alone, I'm alone. This ship . . . it's sailing on and on . . . without me . . ." He touched the wall of the elevator, trying to get a grip on it. "I'm losing command. I'm losing command! My ship . . . my ship . . ."

  "Captain."

  "I've lost the Enterprise. No . . . no . . ." he sobbed. Spock caught him as he sagged, and held him upright.

  "Jim."

  The shock of that voice calling him by name was a shower of cold water. Slowly, the hysteria began to ebb.

  "I've got command?" he whispered, looking to the Vulcan for reassurance. Spock nodded with vast conviction.

  "I've got command." Kirk's own voice was regaining strength.

  "Correct, Captain," said Spock firmly, allowing no further doubt. "I am awaiting orders, Captain. Where to?"

  Kirk tested his legs. They were steady. He let go of Spock and stood up. ". . . in each one . . . is the Beast—which—will consume him." Well, he had met his Beast. So had Spock. Between them they had conquered the enemies within—themselves. Now the enemy within the Enterprise remained.

  "To Auxiliary Control, my Vulcan friend. This ship is off course."

  They entered the Engineering Room. Scotty looked up, smiled blandly and nodded.

  "Mr. Scott. I want you to override the bridge navigation system and plot a course for Starbase 4."

  "I can't do that, sir!" said Scott with indignation.

  "Why not?"

  "These are vurra sensitive instruments. I'll no' have you upsetting their delicate balance." There was a hint of panic underlying the burring voice. "There'll be no tamperin' with the navigation system of this ship, Captain."

  "I'm not asking you to tamper with it. I'm ordering you to plot a course!"

  "You're ordering suicide. We'd all be lost, forever lost!" Scott grabbed a wrench from the tools stacked nearby. The two technicians loomed supportively behind him.

  Spock looked at the corner of the room. Steve was quietly watching.

  "I've given you men an order," said Kirk.

  Scott crouched over his console, brandishing the wrench.

  "You go 'way now. Go away or I'll kill you!" Kirk could not believe such words coming from his Chief Engineer, who was coming more and more to resemble a caveman with upraised club.

  "Scotty, listen to me," the Captain urged. "The Enterprise has been invaded by alien beings. Its destination is now Marcos. If we go there, millions will die, the way they died on Triacus."

  Scott snarled and lunged. The technicians jumped Spock, undeterred by his strength. Neither Spock nor Kirk was prepared to inflict serious damage on the men, but the Engineering crew had no such qualms. At last, thanks to the Vulcan nerve pinch and some quick dodging, they managed to make their way to the elevator.

  Spock stared searchingly at Kirk. Still panting from the scuffle, Kirk knew what the question was.

  "It's all right, Spock. My . . . Beast . . . is finished. It won't return."

  Spock acknowledged this with a nod. "But, Captain, as long as those children are present, there is danger. They are the carriers."

  Sometimes, Kirk thought, Spock was more human than at other times.

  "But they're children, Spock. Not alien beings. Only children, being misled."

  "They are followers. Without followers, evil cannot spread."

  This was definitely one of the other times. "They're children," Kirk said helplessly.

  "Captain, the four hundred and thirty men and women on board the Enterprise, and the ship itself, are endangered by these . . . children." Spock was grim.

  "They don't understand the evil they're doing."

  "Perhaps that is true. But the evil within them
is spreading fast, and unless we can find a way to remove it—"

  Reluctantly, Kirk faced it. "We'll have to kill them." He knew Spock was right. As they turned the corner, the way was blocked.

  Ensign Chekov, armed with a phaser and flanked by three crewmen, stood in front of them.

  "Captain Kirk," said Chekov nervously.

  "What is it, Ensign?"

  "I have been instructed to place you and Meester Spock under arrest."

  "By whose order?"

  "Starfleet Command, sir." With his free hand, he thrust a printed communication at the Captain, who glanced at it and looked back at the young officer.

  "Where did you hear this order?" Chekov's face was working with some inner torment. Down the corridor, Tommy waited.

  "Now listen to me," said Kirk firmly. "This order is false. I want you and your men to return to your stations."

  "I am sorry, Captain, but I must inseest that you and Meester Spock come weeth me to the detention section."

  "Listen to me!" said Kirk, taking a step toward him. The rifle rose and pointed at his heart.

  "Do not force me to keel you, sir. I weel if I have to," said Chekov desperately. Heavy perspiration ran down his forehead. "Will you come peacefully?"

  "Listen to me. This is a false order."

  "I have never disobeyed an order, Captain," cried Chekov. "Never, never!"

  "I know that. Ensign. You have never disobeyed an order. But an alien being is aboard this ship—"

  "I cannot disobey, I cannot disobey an order," wailed Chekov, the rifle wavering. Spock had worked his way around the group and suddenly seized the weapon. It was a signal for the other crewmen to attack, and once again Kirk and Spock found themselves entangled in flying fists and vicious blows.

  Tommy watched, concentrating and strained, as the rifle traveled from hand to hand.

  Suddenly, Spock emerged from the melee holding the phaser. Tommy had vanished.

  Feeling his bruises, Kirk said, "Mr. Spock, take these men to detention and then join me on the bridge." Spock gestured with the phaser and the others slowly started moving, looking dazed.

  The bridge was as he had left it: Uhura rocking back and forth, keening, Sulu staring.

  "Marcos Twelve in sight, sir," he said dully.

  "Mr. Sulu, we are not going to Marcos Twelve. I want you to change course."

  "No, Captain, no!" As Kirk approached the console, Sulu drew his pistol.

  "Sulu, there is no collision possible. It's being planted in your mind, on your screen."

  Sulu growled. Kirk stopped, startled. Spock and McCoy entered on this tableau.

  "The prisoners are in the deten . . ." Spock's voice trailed off as he took in the impasse at Sulu's console. He stepped toward Kirk. Sulu raised his pistol to cover both of them.

  "Stand back, Mr. Spock."

  Kirk nodded. Then he looked at Mary, and at Tommy.

  "The Enterprise will never reach Marcos Twelve. You will not be landed there."

  "The crew will take us," said Tommy contemptuously. "The crew believe us."

  "The, crew! They don't understand. When they understand as I do, they will not take you to Marcos."

  "They will!" cried Mary passionately. "They-will-they-will-they-will!"

  Tommy's head was high. "We are going to Marcos. We are all going to Marcos. The crew will follow our friend."

  Kirk spoke compassionately. "Your friend. Oh, yes, your friend. Where is that stowaway? Why does he hide?"

  "He'll come if we call him," said Mary stoutly.

  "But we won't," Tommy broke in. "We don't need him. We're not afraid of you."

  "Good," said Kirk. "I'm glad you're not afraid of me. But your . . . er . . . leader is afraid. What's he so afraid of?"

  "He's not afraid of anybody!"

  "He's not afraid of anything!"

  "He's afraid to be seen. When the crew see and hear him, they will know he is not their friend, and they will no longer follow."

  Tommy shouted, "He is our friend!"

  "Then let him show himself. Bring him out. Let him prove that he's MY friend and I'll—I'll follow him to Marcos Twelve and the end of the universe!"

  "No!" cried Tommy. He was beginning to doubt.

  An idea struck Kirk. "Mr. Spock, play back the chant. The one the children sang before, when the alien appeared." Unmistakably, Spock conveyed approval. Dr. McCoy shook his head doubtfully.

  The chant began:

  Hail, hail, fire and snow,

  Call the angel, we will go,

  Far away, far to see,

  Friendly angel, come to me.

  Hail, hail, fire and snow . . .

  As the chant replayed, Steve, Don and Ray came in slowly. The children drew into a group. This time, they didn't seem to want to join hands.

  "The time has come to see the world as it is," said Kirk.

  The shimmering form of the alien began to gather strength.

  "Who has summoned me?" The deep resonant voice penetrated even the nightmare in which Uhura was lost.

  "I did, Gorgan. My Beast has gone. It lost its power in the light of reality. I command again. And I ordered you here." It was high time, thought Kirk, that we met this antagonist face to face.

  The alien smiled with infinite sweetness. "No, Captain. I command here. My followers are strong and faithful. And obedient." He beamed on the children, who huddled closer together. "That is why we can take what is ours, wherever we go."

  Spock said, "You can only take from those who do not know you."

  "And we know you," said Kirk.

  "Then you know I must win, Captain."

  "Not if we join together to fight you."

  The alien shook its silver head calmly. "Foolish, foolish. You will be destroyed. I would ask you to join me, but you are too gentle. A grave weakness."

  "We are also very strong."

  "But your strength is neutralized by gentleness. You are weak and full of goodness." The alien face had no difficulty in conveying contempt. "You are like the parents. You must be eliminated."

  The children stared silently at this confrontation. Kirk wondered if they were beginning to hear the hollow crack of breaking promises. They certainly looked as if the words of their "angel" were not quite what they had expected.

  "Children," said Kirk suddenly, not taking his eyes off the alien, "I have some pictures of some of you on Triacus. I'd like to show them to you."

  Tommy appeared to hesitate; it must have seemed an odd time for home movies. But events were moving too fast for him. The other children were frankly bewildered.

  "Mr. Spock, the pictures."

  "I forbid it!" said Gorgan.

  "Why should you fear it?"

  "I fear nothing!"

  "So we were told. Mr. Spock, the children are waiting."

  The film on the big screen showed Tommy and his father playing volleyball with the others. The remains of a picnic were strewn on the ground. Tommy stumbled and fell, and before he could decide whether or not to howl, his father had run to him and picked him up tenderly.

  "There's me!" cried Mary. The children murmured as they recognized themselves.

  The picture changed to the charnel house scene that had met the Enterprise officers on Triacus. There was a collective gasp; then the graves and the inscriptions. Tommy rubbed his eyes. The little ones were very still.

  "They would not help transport us. They were against us." Was the creature's voice acquiring a whine? "They had to be eliminated."

  "Tommy's father would have destroyed you, but he recognized you too late," Spock stated flatly.

  Gorgan rallied. "You are also too late. The kind ones always are."

  "Not always. Not this time." Kirk looked at the children. Were those very bright eyes filling with tears at last? "You can't hide from them. They see you as you are. Even the children learn."

  Gorgan summoned up an erratically brighter light around his cloaked body. He called to the children. "You are my future ge
nerals. Together we will raise armies of followers. Go to your posts! Our first great victories are upon us! You will see, we have millions of followers on Marcos Twelve!"

  The children looked at the flickering figure with tear-blind eyes. The alien began to shout. "We shall exterminate all who oppose us!"

  "As you believe, so shall it be." As their belief waned, doubt began to creep as if it were an ugly bruise over the face of the "angels." The sweet false face was curdling.

  "Don't be afraid," said Kirk. "Look at him!" McCoy was bending over the little group of sobbing children. The picture of the graves still hung on the screen. Tommy looked from the screen to the writhing alien, and back; he was holding his lower lip hard with his teeth.

  "We must exterminate! Follow me!" Gorgan's head had erupted with hideous blotches.

  "Without you, children, he is nothing," said Kirk. "He can no longer hide the evil Beast within himself."

  "I command you, I command you . . ." the mellifluous voice cracked and roughened. ". . . to your posts . . . carry out your duties, or I will destroy you. You too will be swept aside . . ." quavered the dreadful thing in the shimmering cloak.

  "How ugly he really is. Look at him, and don't be afraid." Kirk's hand was on Tommy's shoulder, which was shaking.

  "Death, death, death to you all . . ." it died away in a scream of pure, weak anger.

  McCoy looked up. "They're crying, Jim. They're finally crying! It's good to see."

  Tommy was clinging to Kirk. He had broken down and was weeping convulsively. "M-my father—"

  "It's all right, Tommy. It's all right. It is, isn't it, Bones?"

  "Yes," replied the Doctor, picking up the nearest child. "We can help them now."

  Trembling, Uhura raised her head and looked uncertainly at her console. She touched it wonderingly. But her attention was claimed by a very small nose being blown on her small skirt.

  Sulu, in his own voice but sounding puzzled, said, "Marcos Twelve is dead ahead, sir."

  "Reverse course, Mr. Sulu."

  "Aye, aye, sir!" Slowly he reached for the controls, wary eyes on his screen.

  "Course reversed!" he announced with triumph.

  "Set a course for Starbase 4." How many times, today had he given that order, Kirk wondered. It was good to see it obeyed.

  He had command.