Strangers from the Sky
Page 17
he needed to know. He leaned toward Kirk now, his
long fingers moving gently toward the familiar
places, seeking the familiar paths.
"If I may . . ." he began.
"What is this "if I may"?" Kirk
demanded, feinting as if to avoid Spock's Touch,
laughing at the relief that flooded his soul. "Since
when have you needed permission?"
"Indeed," the Vulcan said, and Reached.
When he withdrew his hand, and with it his mind,
Kirk grew very still.
"That's incredible!" he said.
"Is it?" Spock asked mildly. "What you and
I have experienced has always stretched the bounds of
ordinary credulity. This is no exception."
"You're right," Kirk acknowledged. "God, I
hope you're right! It doesn't give me any
answers, but at least I know I'm not crazy."
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"That sloes it!"
Their harmony was shattered by Krista
Sivertsen's sharp take-charge voice.
"You simply on taking risks, don't you?" she
flared at Kirk, charging into the room, ignoring
Spock entirely. "First the Dreaming, now this! One
of my aides was observing from the booth."
She nodded toward one of the suspect mirrors.
"And she called me." She turned on Spock,
furious. "I suppose you've already done your
damage?"
"There has been no damage of my causing,
Dr. Sivertsen," Spock replied coolly.
"However, unless Admiral Kirk is released from
this facility inunediately to seek an
alternate form of cure, certain irreparable
damage may ensue."
"I know you have a great many talents, Captain
Spock," Krista said icily. "But I had no
idea an expertise in psychology was among them!"
""It is not," Spock said evenly. "None
is needed in this instance. Admiral Kirk's
difficulty is not psychological in origin. He
is not insane."
("Never try to second-guess a Vulcan,"
her best friend Liz had once written to Krista,
years ago when she'd taken her first deepspace
assignment, transferred from the Aldebaran
Colony to serve on a ship with a Vulcan first
officer. "They'll outflank you before you can shake your
argument out of the mid-brain."
Krista still kept all of Liz's letter-disks, still
remembered all of Liz's pearls of wisdom.
They'd been roommates during their internship,
looked enough alike to be mistaken for sisters.
Krista had adored Liz, treasured her
sharp-cornered advice. But an innate restlessness
had driven Liz offworld, and she had died not long after
she'd left Aldebaran for her first starship
assignment.)
But this was neither the time nor the place to resurrect
those memories. Krista Sivertsen took a deep
STRANGERS FROM THE SKY
breath and readied herself. She would not
second-guess this particular Vulca tilde Liz
had learned about him and his kind too late to save
herself but she wouldn't let him outflank her either.
"The term 'insane" is considered somewhat archaic
in modern psychology, Captain Spock," she
began, buying time as she showed him into her office.
Kirk had agreed to wait outside; whatever else
could be said about a Vulcan mind-meld, it seemed
to have a calming effect upon the human participant.
"We feel it has a connotation of hopelessness which,
under
contemporary advances in the field his
"Whatever euphemism those in your profession
currently employ," Spock cut her off, "the
fact remains: Admiral Kirk is not insane."
"Would you care to look at his psychoscan?"
Krista demanded heatedly. She could not abide
amateurs, regardless of their species. "Or perhaps
you'd like to read the transcript of my report on his
condition, or a tape of this morning's
hypnosis?"
Spock said nothing; his face told her nothing.
She had the facts at her disposal. Why did she
feel as if she were up to her ankles in quicksand?
"I know you're a close friend of Jim
Kirk's," she said, trying the reasonable approach.
"And I respect that. But if you think you can
persuade me on that basis his
"It would never occur to me," Spock said
mildly.
What was his game? Krista wondered, groping.
Her field was human psychology; she was out of her
depth with Vulcans and this one seemed to know it. She
felt the metaphorical quicksand creeping up to her
knees.
"If you think you can pull rank on me, you can
forget that, too. You're on my turf here, and my
orders are to keep Jim Kirk confined "until
he is completely and permanently cured,"
unquote. And they're signed by the Old Man
himself."
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Spock seemed to weigh this.
"Was the order deactivating
Admiral Kirk's transceiver also signed
by Admiral Nogura?"
"It was."
"May I ask why?"
"As a security measure. I'm sure you're
familiar with the procedure. And to spare Kirk any
unnecessary disturbances during the course of treatment."
"Meaning messages from Dr. Nayingul or
myself."
"If you want to look at it that way."
"I shall have to persuade Admiral Nogura
to rethink his decision," Spock said with utter
equanimity, and Krista had no doubt he was one
of the two people on the planet who could. "However, that is
inconsequential at present. Dr. Sivertsen,
I have heard your arguments regarding Admiral
Kirk's condition. Will you grant me the courtesy of
hearing mine?"
"I have the facts on my side, Captain, and
I won't be budged. No one suffering such severe
delusional nightmares will be allowed to leave this
facility as long as I'm a member of the staff."
Spock appeared to arrive at a decision.
"Very well, doctor. Then I suggest you commit
me to your facility as well. I have
experienced the same nightmares."
Krista Sivertsen watched the results of
Spock's psychoscan come up on her screen.
When she had adjusted the readout for Vulcan
Norm, it showed the same mnemonic dysfunction as
Kirk's.
"I thought you were bluffing," she said.
Spock resisted the obvious response. The
psychiatrist was staring at the readout in disbelief.
"I've never seen anything like this. The odds against it
must be astronomical." Spock resisted
responding to this as well. "Maybe it's what you
get for messing around in mere human minds with your
Vulcan techniques." She turned off the
screen, as if not seeing the
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readout before her would somehow make it less
uncanny. "I don't understand how this is possible.
I understand even less the point of this Py
rrhic
victory of yours, but it looks as if you'll be
keeping the admiral company. I'll see you get
adjoining rooms."
"Then I trust you have a Vulcan healer
on-staff?" Spock inquired mildly.
"This is Earth!" Krista Sivertsen said
incredulously. "There are probably fewer than
a dozen Vulcan healers on the entire planet,
and to my knowledge none of them is a practising
psychiatrist. Tradition has it your people don't
suffer psychological disorders, but the evidence I
have on that scan says otherwise."
"Seven," Spock said quietly.
"Come agam?"
"There are at present seven Vulcan healers in
residence within the sol system, including Luna and the
Martian Colonies, and none is a
practising psychiatrist," Spock said. "The
nearest healer so qualified is T'Sri of
Rigel XII, and assuming she were immediately
available, she could not arrive on Earth in less
than seventeen Standard days.
"Consequently, doctor, unless you or someone on
your staff possesses a degree in
xenopsychology, you cannot keep me here.
"Why, you cold-blooded, manipulative . .
.!" Krista Sivertsen flared, losing her cool
entirely. "What the hell do you want from me?"
Spock told her.
"Forty-eight hours, no more," she told
McCoy when she'd sent for him. "They'll be in your
custody. They're not to leave Kirk's apartment, and
you're not to let them out of your sight. If you need a
couple of security guards His
"Of course not!" McCoy blustered, not quite sure
of that himself, considering the hijinks these two had pulled
on him in the past.
STRANGERS FROM THE SKY
"Forty-eight hours," Krista repeated.
"Sooner if you see any indications of crisis.
If they can't work their miracle in that much time his
"You'll have them back," McCoy promised,
hoping against hope that whatever his two charges were up
to would work.
Krista delivered them to him at the Admissions
desk with a kind of relief.
"Liz was right," she said to McCoy. "She always
said, 'ationever try to second-guess a Vulcan."
I should have listened."
"Yes, Liz always was good with the homey little
Earthisms, wasn't she?" McCoy said sadly;
obviously he knew who Krista was talking about if
the other two didn't. He eyed Spock
sceptically. "Pity I never had the
benefit of that particular one. Might have saved me a
decade or two of aggravation. Poor Liz!"
"A mutual friend?" Kirk asked, making
conversation as they walked across the MedArts
quadrangle. Now that Krista was no longer his
shrink, at least for the next forty-eight hours, he
could devote his full appreciation to her as a
person.
"Friend of Krista's," McCoy specified.
"Briefly a student of mine. Brilliant
girl, untimely death. Come to think of it, Jim, you
knew her, too."
"Did I?"
Kirk searched his no-longer-to-be-trusted
memory for another lady psychiatrist. He'd
gone through a phase where he'd found professional
women Ruth, Carol, Janet, Areel
particularly attractive, but as far as he knew
"She was assigned as Enterprise's staff
psychiatrist when she died, Admiral," Krista
said, keeping her voice level, her tone free of
accusation.
"Liz," Kirk mused. "Elizabeth. Not . .
.?"
"Elizabeth Dehner." Krista's
voice trembled slightly, though her face would have
done a Vulcan proud.
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Kirk was less fortunate. The mention of the name
froze him barely inches from freedom.
McCoy noticed the impact immediately, wished
he'd kept his mouth shut. Liz Dehner would always
be irrevocably linked with Gary Mitchell in
Kirk's mind. To remind Kirk of Gary now, when
he was so vulnerable . . .
But Kirk wasn't thinking of Mitchell at
all. What had him nonplussed was a memory of
Elizabeth Dehner before the incident on Delta
Vega, a moment of deja-vu that all but
announced itself by a lightbulb over his head. An
instant before it had not existed in any reality he
knew.
"Elizabeth Dehner," he said incredulously,
"is the blonde in the dreams. Spock, the voice
his
The Vulcan also stood transfixed, seemed
to shake off some private reverie. "Yes. Yes,
indeed!"
"Spock!" Kirk said, groping for
something. "The landing party on M-155 . . . the
Planet That Wasn't There. his
"Interesting," the Vulcan said slowly. "A
possibility.
McCoy, standing between them, felt his hair stand on
end as if he were about to be struck by lightning. He
had no idea what had just
happened, but if it had anything to do with what they had
less than forty-eight hours to solve, he was
hardly going to let it take place here. Krista was
looking at both of his friends as if she were strongly
tempted to change her mind.
"Jim," McCoy interceded, grabbing his arm.
"Spock, save your thought. Our meter's running."
"Bones, you really could take the time off," Kirk
said winningly, over the ticking of his multitude of
antique clocks. "We'll be good."
"Not likely!" McCoy growled, rattling around
in Kirk's minuscule kitchen. "Don't you ever
buy any real
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food? Goddamn synthesised,
reconstituted..." He emerged finally with a prefab
sandwich and a glass of amber liquid in his
hand. "At least your bourbon's real. Where's
Spock?"
"Talking to Galarrwny on the bedroom screen,"
Kirk said distractedly, wondering what part of his
brain the two were dissecting in his absence. "Did you
think he'd shimmied down a drainpipe? It's over
fifty stories to the street."
"I wouldn't put it past him! Can we get on with
this? The more I think of baby-sitting you renegades for
two entire days I should have taken Krista up on
her offer of security guards. Posted one at the
front door and another in here to relieve me. I
can see where I'm gonna have to watch the pair of you in
my sleep."
"Considering the usual stentorian clamor which
accompanies that activity on your part," Spock
re- marked, emerging from the bedroom, "it is
unlikely any of us will derive much rest from this
experience."
"Don't start with me!" McCoy began, but
Kirk cut him off.
"Bones, our meter's running. Spock,
what've we got?"
Spock settled himself by the inactive fireplace
between Kirk and McCoy.
"The facts are these, Jim: you and I have,
simultaneously and in the absence of
communication, experienced a series of dreams
relating to a particular event in Earth's history
previously unknown to us. This in itself is neither
surprising nor especially alarming. Doubtless many
individuals, upon reading Strangers from the Sky, were
sufficiently intrigued by its premise
to incorporate it into their dreams."
"Krista said it was bringing the weirdos out in
droves," McCoy remarked, fiddling with his
medical tricorder. He Iooked at Kirk.
"Sorry!"
"However," Spock went on as if McCoy had
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spoken, "that which began as dream soon
increased in frequency and intensity, becoming more
immediate, more "real," if you will, than our waking
lives. There was a sense that we were involved with these
historical personages, knew them intimately,
including details that were not present in the book.
There was also a growing sense of ominousness, of something
indefinable gone awry. And there is more."
He watched McCoy fuss with the
tricorder, preparatory to recording everything that
transpired in this room for the next two
days though he would, of course, only pick up
fragments of what had happened through the mind-meld as
evidence for Krista Sivertsen's files.
McCoy noticed the prolonged silence.
"Go on, go on, I'm listening!"
"Several of our dreams do not overlap, but remain
separate to each of us," Spock continued. "As if
we were interacting with different individuals at
different times. These separate dreams are totally in
keeping with our
personalities. You, Jim, engage in a
tennis match with Melody Sawyer, with all of its
subsequent consequences, whereas I his
He glanced again at McCoy or, more
accurately, at the intrusive presence of the
tricorder, and hesitated.
"What is it, Spock?" Kirk urged him
gently. "If it's too personal his
"I," Spock said slowly, "dreamed -- about my
mother."
Briefly he told them the content of his
dialogue with Amanda.
"Dreamed about your mother, did you?"
McCoy asked, sensing Spock's embarrassment,
trying to bluster his way around it. "So what? A little
of the old human nature creeping in. Even you must
let your guard down during a REM cycle. Or
are you going to tell me Vulcans have an Oedipus
myth?"
"Doctor his
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