Star Trek 03

by James Blish

  There was a gasp from the Vulcan onlookers; even T'Pau's eyes flickered in startled surprise. Spock mouthed the word without speaking it, his breathing quickening, his eyes narrowed to slits. T'Pring crossed to him, took the mallet from his hand, and tossed it aside. Her expression was strangely contemptuous.

  The Vulcan with the ax stepped forward. He looked both amused and dangerous, like an experienced executioner.

  "Hey, what's this?" McCoy said. "If there's going to be hanky-panky . . ."

  "All is in order," the old woman said. "She chooses the challenge."

  "What?" McCoy pointed at the executioner. "With him?"

  "No. He acts only if cowardice is seen. T'Pring will now choose her champion. T'Pring: you have chosen. Are you prepared to become the property of the victor? Not merely his wife, but his chattel, with no other rights or status?"

  "I am prepared," T'Pring said.

  "Then choose."

  T'Pring moved regally out into the arena. She stopped by the huge young Vulcan, who straightened proudly, expectantly, but she moved away from him. Then she turned to T'Pau.

  "As it was in the dawn of our days," she said, "as it is today, as it will be through all tomorrows, I make my choice." She turned again. "I choose this man."

  And she pointed straight at Kirk.

  "Now wait a minute—" Kirk said.

  At the same moment, the big young Vulcan stepped forward, obviously outraged. "No!" he cried. "I am to be the one! It was agreed! The honor is mine!"

  All at once, everyone in the marriage party seemed to be arguing, all in Vulcan. Under cover of the noise, Kirk said swiftly to McCoy, "What happens if I decline?"

  "I don't know, Jim. He'd probably have to fight the young man. And in his present condition, he couldn't win. But Jim, this looks like a situation of total combat—and the heat and the air here are pretty fierce. I'm not sure you could win either—even if you'd want to."

  "I'm not about to take a dead First Officer back with me. On the other hand, there's T'Pau over there—all of Vulcan wrapped up in one package. How will it look if a Starship Captain backs off from this, afraid?"

  "But . . ."

  "And if I can't beat him, if I'm in any danger, I'll give up. Spock wins, honor is satisfied. Or maybe just knock him out . . ."

  "Kroykah!" T'Pau said explosively. The hubbub stopped as if turned off by a switch.

  The big young Vulcan said, "I ask forgiveness." He went back to his post by the arch, sulky, unrepentant, but no longer defiant.

  Kirk said, "I accept." He threw a look toward his First Officer, but Spock seemed oblivious of everything but the ceremony.

  "According to our laws," T'Pau said, "combat begins with the lirpa."

  Two Vulcan males stepped forward, each carrying a vicious-looking weapon. At one end of a heavy handle was a circular, razor-edged knife; at the other end, a metal cudgel.

  "If both survive the lirpa," T'Pau continued, "then combat continues with ahn woon, until death. Klee-et!"

  At this command, Spock wheeled to face Kirk. His eyes blazed with blind savagery as he lifted the weapon. McCoy stepped forward.

  "Nothing doing!" McCoy said. "No one mentioned a fight to the death—" his words trailed off as the executioner-like Vulcan stepped in, lifting his ax. Then he swallowed and charged on. "T'Pau, these men are friends. To force them to fight until one is killed . . ."

  "Challenge was lawfully given and accepted. Neither party was forced. However, Spock may release the challenger. Spock! How do you choose?"

  Spock continued to eye Kirk, scowling. There was still no sign of recognition. Then, suddenly, he shouted bis answer, hoarsely, scornfully: "Klee-fah!"

  "That's it, Bones," Kirk said. "Get out of the combat area. There's nothing you can do."

  McCoy stood fast. "I claim one right for him then. Your temperature is hot for our kind, your air is thin . . ."

  He was interrupted by a feint from Spock. Kirk dodged, but Spock, slashing again with the blade, abruptly reversed the weapon and caught Kirk a glancing blow with the cudgel end. Kirk went down, rolling barely in time as Spock reversed again and slashed down hard. The weapon bit into the earth.

  Kirk kicked hard at Spock's legs. Now the Vulcan was down, and Kirk was rolling to his feet. He was already sweating, and his breath was whistling in his throat. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the burly axman advancing on McCoy.

  "I can't watch you both, Bones!" he shouted. "Get out before you kill me!"

  McCoy held his ground. Turning back toward T'Pau, he produced a hypo from his medical kit. "Are Vulcans afraid of fair combat?" he demanded.

  "What is this?"

  "A high-G vitalizer shot. To compensate for temperature and atmosphere."

  "Kroykah!" T'Pau said. Everyone froze. "Very well. Your request is reasonable."

  McCoy pressed the hypo against Kirk's arm. It hissed, and the physician turned away.

  Spock moved in at once. This time it was Kirk who feinted. Spock countered as if they were marionettes tied to the same string. Kirk tried again, with the same result.

  With a wordless rumble, Spock launched a lightning kick at Kirk's left hand. Kirk bent aside, and catching the heel of Spock's boot, dumped him. He dived after him, but Spock rolled with unbelievable quickness, so that Kirk hit only the bare ground.

  Then both were up, crouching. Spock raised his weapon as if to throw it, and Kirk tensed, ready to jump aside. Spock, however, suddenly reversed the weapon and rushed.

  They came together like the impact of two machines, belly to belly, free hand holding weapon wrist, glaring into each other's eyes. Then, with a bone-cracking wrench, Spock whipped Kirk's weapon to the ground.

  With two quick, stamping steps, like a flamenco dancer, Spock snapped the knife blade with a loud crack, and then kicked the cudgel end away. He raised his own blade to striking position.

  "Spock!" McCoy cried out. "No!"

  They were still at close quarters. Kirk hit Spock's wrist with a karate chop. Now it was Spock's lirpa that went flying out of reach.

  "Kroykah!" T'Pau cried.

  Again, Spock froze. The Vulcan weapons attendant came hurrying out, carrying what seemed to be no more than two leather bands about three feet long and four inches wide. One was handed to Spock, who backed up, waiting; Kirk got the other.

  "A strip of leather?" Kirk said. "Is that all?"

  "The ahn woon," T'Pau said. "Oldest and deadliest of Vulcan weapons."

  Kirk inspected it with puzzlement. How on earth was one supposed to use this thing? It wasn't long enough to be an effective whip, and . . .

  Spock did not hesitate. Scooping up a jagged rock, in the same movement he converted the leather strap into a sling. Kirk understood too late. The rock caught him hard in the ribs, and he fell.

  As he staggered to his feet, Spock charged him, now holding one end of the strap in each hand. Whipping it around Kirk's legs, he yanked, and down Kirk went again.

  Instantly, Spock was at his back, garroting him with the strap. Kirk shifted to try to throw the First Officer over his shoulder, but something odd seemed to be happening to his muscles; they responded very slowly, and didn't move in the way his brain told them to go.

  The pressure around his neck tightened. He made one last grab for Spock's hands, but never even came close. The universe darkened. Blood roared in his ears. He felt himself fall flat, blind and paralyzed.

  "Kroykah!" came T'Pau's voice, as if from a great distance.

  There was a sound of running footsteps, coming closer. Then came McCoy's voice, charged with bitterness:

  "Get your hands off him, Spock. It's finished—he's dead."

  It was all most peculiar. Kirk could see nothing, feel nothing, was not even sure he was breathing. He was aware of nothing but the voices, as though he were listening to an exchange over the intercom—or attending a play with his back turned to the stage.

  T'PAU: I grieve with you, Doctor.

  SPOCK: No! I—no, no .
. .

  McCOY: McCoy to Enterprise.

  UHURA: Enterprise. Lieutenant Uhura here.

  McCOY: Have Transporter Room stand by for landing party to beam up. Strange as it may seem, Mr. Spock, you're in command now. Any orders?

  SPOCK: I'll—I'll follow you in a few minutes. Instruct Mr. Chekov to plot a course for the nearest base where I must—surrender myself to the authorities. . .T'Pring.

  T'PRING: Yes.

  SPOCK: Explain.

  T'PRING: Specify.

  SPOCK: Why the challenge; why you chose my Captain as your champion.

  T'PRING: Stonn wanted me. I wanted him.

  SPOCK: I see no logic in preferring Stonn over me.

  T'PRING: He is simple and easily controlled. I calculated the possibilities were these: if your Captain were victor, he would not want me, and so I would have Stonn. If you were victor, you would free me because I dared to challenge, and again I would have Stonn. But if you did not free me it would be the same, for you would be gone again, and I would have your name and your property, and Stonn would still be there.

  SPOCK: Flawlessly logical.

  T'PRING: I am honored.

  SPOCK: Stonn! She is yours. After a time, you may find that having is not, after all, so satisfying a thing as wanting. It is not logical, but it is often true . . . Spock here. Ready to beam up . . . Live long and prosper, T'Pau.

  T'PAU: Live long and prosper, Spock.

  SPOCK: I shall do neither. I have killed my Captain—and my friend.

  Then Kirk's hearing went away too, and for a long time thereafter he knew nothing.

  He came gradually back to consciousness in the Sickbay. McCoy was bending over him. Nearby was Spock, his hands over his face. His shoulders were shaking.

  Nurse Christine came into his field of view, and turning Spock toward the Captain, gently pulled his hands away from his face. Kirk smiled weakly, and spoke in a faint but cheerful voice.

  "Mr. Spock—I never thought I'd see the day . . ."

  "Captain!" Spock stared down at him, absolutely dazed with astonishment. Then, obviously realizing what his face and voice were revealing, he looked away.

  "Christine," McCoy said, "it might be a good idea for Mr. Spock to get some hot food in him. Why don't you feed him some of that awful plomik soup. Then bring him back here for me to run a physical on him. Go on, Spock. She'll explain it to you."

  Christine led the First Officer toward the door. But just before he left, Spock said, "It is not awful plomik soup. It is very good plomik soup."

  Then he was gone. Kirk and McCoy smiled after him. Then Kirk rolled his head back and wiped the smile off his face.

  "You, Mister," he said, "are a quack."

  McCoy shrugged. "I made a mistake. Shot you with ronoxiline D by mistake. Nobody lied. You were dead—by all normal standards. I had to get you back up here fast, or you would have been dead by any standards."

  "Will Spock be all right?"

  "I think so. I'll run a full physical on him to make sure."

  Kirk started to sit up. "Where are we now?"

  "Stay right there," McCoy said, shoving him back. "We're still orbiting Vulcan."

  Kirk reached out and snapped on the bedside intercom. "Kirk to Bridge."

  "Bridge, sir. Sulu here."

  "Take us out of orbit, Mr. Sulu. Have the navigator lay in a course for Altair Six at top warp speed. Tell Scotty to pour it on—we've got an inauguration to make!"

  "Yes sir. Bridge out."

  As Kirk dropped back onto the bed, McCoy said sourly, "You know, Jim, some one of these days these ceremonies will be the death of you."

  "In which case, Bones, remember: you have standing orders to bring me back to life."

  Table of Contents

  CONTENTS

  PREFACE:

  THE TROUBLE WITH TRIBBLES*

  THE LAST GUNFIGHT

  THE DOOMSDAY MACHINE*

  ASSIGNMENT: EARTH

  MIRROR, MIRROR

  FRIDAY'S CHILD

  AMOK TIME*