Star Trek 04

by James Blish

  "Well, you can be hurt, can't you?" He lifted the phaser again. The creature rattled, and shrank back, but held its ground. Obviously it was afraid of the weapon, but it would not flee.

  Kirk lowered the phaser, and the rattling stopped. Then he moved deliberately back against the nearest wall and dropped slowly into a squatting position, the phaser held loosely between his knees.

  "All right. Your move. Or do we just sit and wait for something to happen?"

  It was not a long wait. Almost at once, Spock burst into the area from the open end of the tunnel. He took in the situation instantly and his own phaser jerked up.

  "Don't shoot!" Kirk shouted. Echoes went bounding away through the galleries and tunnels.

  Spock looked from one to the other. As he did so, the creature moved slowly to the other side of the tunnel. Kirk guessed that he could get past it now before it could block him again. Instead, he said, "Come on over, Mr. Spock."

  With the utmost caution, his highly interested eyes fastened on the creature, Spock moved to Kirk's side. He looked up at the walls in which the silicon nodules were imbedded. "Logical," he said.

  "But what do they mean?"

  "I'd rather not say just yet. If I could possibly get into Vulcan mind-lock with that creature—it would be easier if I could touch it . . ."

  Before Kirk could even decide whether to veto this notion, Spock stepped toward the animal, his hand extended. It lurched back at once, its rattling loud and angry-sounding.

  "Too bad," Spock said. "But obviously it will permit no contact. Well, then, I must do it the hard way. If you will be patient, Captain . . ."

  Spock's eyes closed as he began to concentrate. The intense mental power he was summoning was almost physically visible. Kirk held his breath. The creature twitched nervously, uneasily.

  Suddenly Spock's face contorted hi agony, and he screamed. "The pain! The pain!" With a great shudder, his face ashen, he began to fall; Kirk got to him just in time.

  "Thank—you, Captain," Spock said, gasping and steadying himself. "I am sorry—but that is all I got. Just waves and waves of searing pain. Oh, and a name. It calls itself a Horta. It is in great agony because of the wound—but not reacting at all like a wounded animal."

  Abruptly, the creature slithered forward to a smooth expanse of floor, and clung there for a moment. Then it moved away. Where it had been, etched into the floor in still smoking letters, were the words: NO KILL I. Both men stared at the sentence in astonishment.

  " 'No kill I' "? Kirk said. "What's that? It could be a plea to us not to kill it—or a promise that it won't kill us."

  "I don't know. It appears it learned more from me during our empathy than I did from it. But observe, Captain, that it thinks in vocables. That means it can hear, too."

  "Horta!" Kirk said loudly. The creature rattled at once and then returned to silence.

  "Mr. Spock, I hate to do this to you, but—it suddenly occurs to me that the Horta couldn't have destroyed that perfusion pump. It was platinum, and immune to the acid mix. It must have hidden it somewhere—and we have to get it back. You'll have to re-establish communications, no matter how painful it is."

  "Certainly, Captain," Spock said promptly. "But it has no reason to give us the device—and apparently every reason to wish us off the planet."

  "I'm aware of that. If we can win its confidence . . ."

  Kirk took out his communicator. "Dr. McCoy. This is the Captain."

  "Yes, Captain," McCoy's voice answered.

  "Get your medical kit and get down here on the double. We've got a patient for you."

  "Somebody injured? How?"

  "I can't specify, it's beyond my competence. Just come. Twenty-third level; find us by tricorder. And hurry. Kirk out."

  "I remind you, Captain," Spock said. "This is a silicon-based form of life. Dr. McCoy's medical knowledge may be totally useless."

  "He's a healer. Let him heal. All right, go ahead, Mr. Spock. Try to contact it again. And try to find out why it suddenly took to murder."

  The creature moved nervously as Spock approached it, but did not shy off; it merely quivered, and made its warning pebble-sound. Speck's eyes closed, and the rattling slowly died back.

  Kirk's communicator beeped again. "Kirk here."

  "Giotto, Captain. Are you all right?"

  "Perfectly all right. Where are you?"

  "We're at the end of the tunnel. Mr. Vanderberg and his men are here. They're pretty ugly. I thought I'd check with you first . . ."

  "Hold them there, Commander. Under no circumstances allow them in here yet. The minute Dr. McCoy gets there, send him through."

  "Aye aye, sir. Giotto out."

  Spock was now deep in trance. He began to murmur.

  "Pain . . . pain . . . Murder . . . the thousands . . . devils . . . Eternity ends . . . horrible . . . horrible . . . in the Chamber of the Ages . . . the Altar of Tomorrow . . . horrible . . . Murderers . . . Murderers . . ."

  "Mr. Spock! The pump . . ."

  "Stop them . . . kill . . . strike back . . . monsters . . ."

  There was the sound of rapidly approaching footsteps and Dr. McCoy, medical bag in hand, broke through into the area. Then he stopped, obviously stunned at what he saw. Kirk silently signaled him to join them, and McCoy, giving the quiescent creature a wide berth, moved to Kirk's side. He said in a low whisper, "What in the name of . . ."

  "It's wounded—badly," Kirk whispered back. "You've got to help it."

  "Help—this?"

  "Take a look at it."

  McCoy cautiously approached the creature, which was now as immobile as a statue; nor did Spock take any notice.

  "The end of life . . . the murderers . . . killing . . . the dead children . . ."

  McCoy stared at the gaping wound, and then touched it tentatively here and there. Producing his tricorder, he took a reading, at which he stared in disbelief. Then he came back to Kirk, his face indignant.

  "You can't be serious. That thing is virtually made out of stone on the outside, and its guts are plastics."

  "Help it. Treat it."

  "I'm a doctor, not a bricklayer!"

  "You're a healer," Kirk said. "That's your patient. That's an order, Doctor."

  McCoy shook his head in wonder, but moved back toward the animal. Spock's eyes were still closed, his face sweating with effort. Kirk went to him.

  "Spock. Tell it we're trying to help. A doctor."

  "Understood. Understood. It is the end of Life. Eternity stops. Go out. Into the tunnel. To the Passage of Immortality. To the Chamber of the Ages. Cry for the children. Walk carefully in the Vault of Tomorrow. Sorrow for the murdered children. Weep for the crushed ones. Tears for the stolen ones. The thing you search for is there. Go. Go. Sadness for the end of things."

  Kirk could not tell whether he was being given directions, or only eavesdropping upon a meditation. He looked hesitantly toward the tunnel entrance.

  "Go!" Spock said. "Into the tunnel. There is a small passage. Quickly. Quickly. Sorrow . . . such sorrow. Sadness. Pain." There were tears running down his cheeks now. "Sorrow . . . the dead . . . the children . . ."

  Kirk felt a thrill of sympathy. He did not in the least understand this litany, but no one could hear so many emotionally loaded words chanted in circumstances of such tension without reacting.

  But the directions turned out to be clear enough. Within a minute he was able to return, the pump in one hand, a silicon nodule in the other.

  McCoy was kneeling by the flank of the animal, and speaking into his communicator. "That's right, Lieutenant. Beam it down to me immediately. Never mind what I want it for, I just want it. Move!"

  "The ages die," Spock said. "It is time to sleep. It is over. Failure. The murderers have won. Death is welcome. Let it end here, with the murdered children . . ."

  "Mr. Spock!" Kirk called. "Come back! Spock!"

  Spock shuddered with the effort to disengage himself. Kirk carefully put the pump on the floor of
the tunnel, then waited until Spock's eyes were no longer glazed.

  "I found the unit," Kirk said. "It's in good shape. I also found about a thousand of these silicon balls. They're—eggs, aren't they, Mr. Spock?"

  "Yes, Captain. Eggs. And about to hatch."

  "The miners must have broken into the hatchery. Their operations destroyed hundreds of them. No wonder . . ."

  There was a roar of sound, and Vanderberg, Appel and what seemed to be an army of armed civilians were trying to jam themselves into the tunnel. They shouted in alarm as they saw the creature. Phasers were raised. Kirk jumped forward.

  "No!" he shouted. "Don't shoot!"

  "Kill it, kill it!" Appel yelled.

  Kirk raised his own weapon. "The first man who shoots, dies."

  "You can't mean it," Vanderberg said, pointing at the Horta with a finger quivering with hatred. "That thing has killed fifty of my men!"

  "And you've killed hundreds of her children," Kirk said quietly.

  "What?"

  "Those 'silicon nodules' you've been collecting and destroying are eggs. Tell them, Mr. Spock."

  "There have been many generations of Horta on this planet," Spock said. "Every fifty thousand years the entire race dies—all but one, like this one. But the eggs live. She protects them, cares for them, and when they hatch, she is the mother to them—thousands of them. This creature here is the mother of her race."

  "She's intelligent, peaceful and mild," Kirk added. "She had no objection to sharing the planet with you people—until you broke into the nursery and started destroying her eggs. Then she fought back, in the only way she could—as any mother would—when her children were endangered."

  "How were we to know?" Vanderberg said, chastened and stunned. "But—you mean if those eggs hatch, there'll be thousands of them crawling around down here? We've got pergium to deliver!"

  "And now you've got your reactor pump back," Kirk said. "She gave it back. You've complained that this planet is a minerological treasure house, if only you had the equipment to get at everything. Well, the Horta moves through rock the way we move through air—and leaves a tunnel. The greatest natural miners in the universe.

  "I don't see why we can't make an agreement—reach a modus vivendi. They tunnel, you collect and process. You get along together. Your processing operation would be a thousand times more profitable than it is now."

  "Sounds all right," Vanderberg said, still a little dubiously. "But how do you know the thing will go for it?"

  "Why should it not?" Spock said. "It is logical. But there is one problem. It is badly wounded. It may die."

  McCoy rose to his feet, a broad smile on his face. "It won't die. By golly, I'm beginning to think I can cure a rainy day."

  "You cured it?" Kirk said in amazement. "How?"

  "I had the ship beam down ten pounds of thermo-concrete, the kind we build emergency shelters out of. It's mostly silicon. I just troweled it over the wound. It'll act as a 'bandage' until it heals of itself. Take a look. Good as new."

  "Bones, my humblest congratulations. Mr. Spock, I'll have to ask you to get in contact with the Horta again. Tell it our proposition. She and her children make all the tunnels they want. Our people will remove the minerals, and each side will leave the other alone. Think she'll go for it?"

  "As I said, Captain, it seems logical. The Horta has a very logical mind." He paused a moment. "And after years of close association with humans, I find it curiously refreshing."

  JOURNEY TO BABEL

  (D. C. Fontana)

  * * *

  The honor guard of eight security men was lined up before the airlock, four men to a side, with Kirk, Spock and McCoy, all three in formal dress blue uniforms, at the end of this human tube. McCoy tugged at his collar, which he had previously described as "like having my neck in a sling." He asked Spock, "How does that Vulcan salute go?"

  Spock demonstrated. The gesture was complex and McCoy's attempt to copy it was not very convincing.

  The surgeon shook his head. "That hurts worse than the uniform."

  The uniforms were the least of their discomforts, Kirk thought a little grimly. They'd soon be out of those, after the formal reception tonight, and the Vulcans were the last group of delegates the Enterprise had to pick up. Then would come the trip to the neutral planetoid code-named "Babel"—a two-week journey with a hundred and fourteen Federation delegates aboard, thirty-two of them ambassadors, half of them mad at the other half, and the whole lot touchier than a raw anti-matter pile over the Coridian question. Now that was going to be uncomfortable.

  The airlock opened, and the Vulcan Ambassador, Sarek, stepped through. Because of Vulcan longevity, it would have been impossible to guess his age—he looked to be no more than in his late forties—but Kirk knew it to be in fact a hundred and two, which was middle age by Vulcan standards. He was followed, several paces behind, by a woman wearing a traveling outfit with a colorful hooded cloak; she in turn was followed by two Vulcan aides.

  Kirk, Spock and McCoy stood at attention as the party walked past the honor guard to the Captain. Spock stepped formally in front of Sarek and gave the complex salute.

  "Vulcan honors us with your presence," he said. "We come to serve."

  Sarek pointedly ignored him and saluted Kirk instead. When he spoke, his voice was almost without inflection.

  "Captain, your service honors us."

  "Thank you, Ambassador," Kirk said with a slight bow. "Captain James Kirk. My First Officer, Commander Spock. Dr. McCoy, Chief Medical Officer."

  Sarek nodded briefly in turn and indicated the rest of his party. "My aides." He held up his hand, first and second fingers extended. The woman stepped forward and touched her first and second fingers to his. "And Amanda, she who is my wife."

  "Captain Kirk," the woman said.

  "My pleasure, madam. Ambassador, as soon as you're settled, I'll arrange a tour of the ship. My First Officer will conduct you."

  I prefer another guide, Captain," Sarek said.

  He was absolutely expressionless, and so was Spock. This snub was just as baffling and even more pointed than before, but it would not be a good idea to offend a ranking ambassador.

  "Of course—if you wish. Mr. Spock, we have two hours until we leave orbit. Would you like to beam down and visit your parents?"

  There was a slight but noticeable silence. Then Spock said, "Captain—Ambassador Sarek and his wife are my parents."

  Was I just telling myself, Kirk thought glumly after the first shock, that this trip was going to be just "uncomfortable"?

  Upon reflection, Kirk gave himself the job of guiding the tour. He found Spock's mother especially interesting—remarkable, even—though she was hard to study because she habitually walked behind and to the side of any man, her husband most notably. This was a Vulcan ritual to which she had adapted, for Amanda was an Earthwoman; almost everyone in the crew knew that much about Spock.

  Though in her late fifties, she was still straight, slim and resilient. She had married a Vulcan and come to live on his world where her human-woman emotions had no place. Kirk strongly suspected that she had not lost any of her human humor and warmth, but that it was buried inside, in deference to her husband's customs and society.

  He led them into the Engineering Room. Spock, by now in regular uniform, was working at the computer banks behind the grilled partition.

  "This is the engineering section," Kirk told his guests. "There are emergency backup systems for the main controls. We also have a number of control computers here."

  Amanda was still behind them and, without Sarek appearing to notice, she moved over to Spock. Out of the corner of his eye, Kirk saw each of them cross hands and touch them, palms out, in a ritual embrace. Then they began to murmur. Spock's face was expressionless, as usual. Once, Amanda shook her head ruefully.

  Kirk continued his lecture, hoping to avoid trouble, but Sarek's eyes were as alert as his own. "My wife, attend," the Ambassador said. He held up his fir
st and second fingers. Without a word, Amanda nodded to Spock to excuse herself and obediently moved to Sarek, joining her fingers with his, though Kirk guessed that she was really not much interested in the console and its instruments.

  Spock, gathering up a handful of tapes, rose and headed for the door. Kirk had a sudden idea.

  "Mr. Spock—a moment, please."

  The First Officer turned reluctantly. "Yes, Captain?"

  "Ambassador, I'm not competent to explain our computer setup. Mr. Spock, will you do so, please?"

  "I gave Spock his first instruction in computers," Sarek said woodenly. "He chose to devote his knowledge to Starfleet rather than the Vulcan Science Academy."

  That tore it. In trying to be helpful, Kirk had unwittingly put his foot right into the heart of the family quarrel. Apologetically, he nodded dismissal to Spock, and turned to Sarek.

  "I'm sorry, Ambassador. I didn't mean to offend you in . . ."

  "Offense is a human emotion, Captain. For other reasons, I am returning to my quarters. Continue, my wife."

  Amanda bowed her head in characteristic acceptance, and Sarek left. Kirk, puzzled and confused as never before by his First Officer and his relatives, turned to her, shaking his head.

  "I'm afraid I don't understand, Mrs. Sarek."

  "Amanda," she said quickly. "I'm afraid you couldn't pronounce the Vulcan family name."

  "Can you?"

  A smile fluttered on her lips, then vanished as habit overtook her. "After a fashion, and after many years of practice . . . Shall we continue the tour? My husband did request it."

  "It sounded more like a command."

  "Of course. He's a Vulcan. I'm his wife."

  "Spock is his son."

  Amanda glanced at him sharply, as though surprised, but recovered quickly. "You don't understand the Vulcan way, Captain. It's logical. It's a better way than ours—but its not easy; It has kept Spock and Sarek from speaking as father and son for eighteen years."