Star Trek 04

by James Blish

  "Please don't," Amanda said.

  "Then you automatically condemn Sarek to death," Spock said evenly. "And Doctor, you have no choice either. You must operate, and you have both the drug and a donor."

  "It seems the only answer," Sarek said.

  Reluctantly, McCoy nodded. Amanda turned a stricken face to Kirk, but he could offer her no help; he could not even help himself in this dilemma.

  "I don't like it either, Amanda, believe me," he said. "But we must save your husband. You know very well, too, how much I value your son; but if we must risk him too, then we must. Doctor McCoy has agreed—and I learned long ago never to overrule him in such matters. In fact, I have made him the only officer on the Enterprise who has the power to give me orders. Please try to trust him as I do."

  "And as I do also," Spock said, to McCoy's obvious startlement.

  "I'll—try," Amanda said.

  "You can do no more. Should you need me, I'll be at my station."

  With a great deal more distress than he hoped he had shown, Kirk bowed formally and left.

  And halfway to the bridge, deep in thought, he was jumped from behind.

  A heavy blow to the head with some sort of club staggered him, but he nevertheless managed to throw his assailant from him against the wall. He got a quick impression of a figure taller but slighter than his own, and the flash of a bladed weapon. In the melee that followed, the other man proved himself to be an experienced in-fighter, and Kirk was already dazed by the first blow. He managed at last to drop bis opponent, perhaps permanently—but not before getting the knife in his own back.

  He barely made it to an intercom before losing consciousness.

  He came to semiconsciousness to the sound of McCoy's voice.

  "It's a bad wound—punctured the left lung. A centimeter or so lower and it would have gone through the heart. Thank goodness he had sense enough not to try to pull the knife out, if he had time to think of it at all."

  "The attacker was Thelev. Unconscious, but not seriously injured; just knocked about quite a lot." That was Spock. "He must have caught the Captain by surprise. I'll be in the brig, questioning him, and Shras as well."

  "Doctor." This time it was Christine Chapel's voice. "The K-two factor is dropping."

  "Spock," McCoy said, "Your father is much worse. There's no longer a choice. I'll have to operate immediately. We can begin as soon as you're prepared."

  "No," Spock said.

  "What?"

  Then came Amanda's voice. "Spock, the little chance your father has depends entirely on you. You volunteered."

  "My immediate responsibility is to the ship," Spock said. "Our passengers' safety is, by Starfleet order, of first importance. We are being followed by an alien, possibly hostile ship. I cannot relinquish command under these circumstances."

  "You can turn command over to Scott," McCoy said harshly.

  "On what grounds, Doctor? Command requirements do not recognize personal privilege. I will be in the brig interrogating the Andorian."

  Then the darkness closed down again. When he awoke once more, he felt much better. Opening his eyes, he saw Sarek in the bed beside him, apparently asleep, with McCoy and Christine bending over him.

  Kirk tried to rise. The attempt provoked a wave of dizziness and nausea and he promptly lay down again—even before McCoy, who had turned instantly at the motion, had to order him to.

  "Let that be a lesson to you," McCoy said. "Just lie there and be happy you're still alive."

  "How's Sarek?"

  "Not good. If I could only operate . . ."

  "What's stopping you? Oh, I remember now. Well, Spock's right, Bones. I can't damn him for his loyalty, or for doing his duty. But I'm not going to let him commit patricide."

  He sat up, swinging his feet off the bed. McCoy caught his shoulders, preventing him from rising. "Jim, you can't even stand up. You could start the internal bleeding again."

  "Bones, Sarek will die without that operation." McCoy nodded. "And you can't operate without the transfusions from Spock." Again a nod. "I'll convince Spock I'm all right, and order him to report here. Once he's off the bridge, I'll turn command over to Scotty and go to my quarters. Will that fill your prescription?"

  "Well, no—but it sounds like the best compromise. Let me give you a hand up."

  "Gladly."

  McCoy supported him all the way to the bridge, but released him just before the elevator doors snapped open. Spock turned, looking surprised and pleased, but masking it immediately.

  "Captain."

  Kirk stepped very carefully down to his command chair. He tried to appear as though he were casually surveying the bridge, though in fact he was keeping precarious hold of his balance as spasms of dizziness swept him. McCoy remained glued to his side, but ostentatiously offered him not so much as a hand.

  Spock came down into the well of the bridge as Kirk reached his chair and eased himself into it. Kirk smiled and nodded approval.

  "I'll take over, Spock. Report to Sickbay with Dr. McCoy."

  Spock was studying him closely. Kirk was fighting off the dizziness, at least enough—he hoped—to keep it from showing, but he knew also that he was very pale, about which he could do nothing.

  "Captain, are you quite all right?"

  "I've certified him physically fit, Mr. Spock," McCoy said testily. "Now, I have an operation to perform. And since both of us are required . . ."

  He gestured toward the elevator. Spock hesitated briefly, still studying Kirk, who said kindly, "Get out of here, Spock."

  Spock nodded, and left with McCoy with something very like alacrity.

  "Mr. Chekov," Kirk said, "what is the status of the intruder ship?"

  "No change, sir. Maintaining its distance."

  "Any further transmissions, Lt. Uhura?"

  "None, sir."

  Kirk nodded, relaxed a little—and found that he had to pull himself together sharply as the dizziness returned. "Call Mr. Scott to the bridge . . ."

  "Captain," Chekov interrupted. "The alien vessel is moving closer!"

  "Belay that last order, Lt. Uhura. I'm staying here." But the dizziness kept coming back. He raised a hand to wipe his brow and found that it was shaking.

  "Captain," Uhura said. "I'm picking up the alien signal again. But it's coming from inside the Enterprise—from the brig."

  "Call Security and order an immediate search of the prisoner. Tell them this time to look for implants."

  Hours of weakness seemed to pass before the command communicator buzzed. Lt. Josephs' voice said, "Security, Captain. I had to stun the prisoner. He has some sort of transceiver imbedded in one of his antennae, sir; it broke off in my hand. I didn't know they were that delicate."

  "They aren't. Thanks, Lieutenant. Neutralize it and send it to Mr. Scott for analysis. Kirk out."

  "Captain," Chekov said. "The alien ship has changed course and speed. Moving directly toward us at Warp Eight."

  "Lt. Uhura, tell Lt. Josephs to bring the prisoner to the bridge. Mr. Chekov, deflectors on. Red alert. Phasers stand by for fire on my signal."

  "Aye, sir." The alarm began to sound. "Shields on. Phasers manned and ready."

  "Take over Spock's scanners. Ensign, take the helm."

  A blip appeared in the viewscreen and flashed by. It loomed large for an instant, but it was only a blur at this speed. Suddenly the bridge was slammed and rocked. The Enterprise had been hit.

  "Damage, Mr. Chekov!"

  "None, sir; deflected. Target moving away. Turning now. He's coming around again."

  "Fire phasers as he passes, Ensign. Steady . . . Fire!"

  Chekov studied the scanner. "Clean miss, sir."

  At the same moment, there was another jolt. "Report on their weaponry."

  "Sensors report standard phasers, sir."

  Standard phasers. Good. The enemy had more speed, but they weren't giants.

  Another wave of weakness passed through him. The Enterprise seemed to be standing up s
o far, but he was none too sure of himself.

  "Captain, the intercom is jammed," Uhura said. "All the Ambassadors are asking what's going on."

  "Tell them to—tell them to take a good guess, but clear that board, Lieutenant!"

  The ship shook furiously again.

  "Captain," Uhura said, "I've got an override from Dr. McCoy. He says that another shock like that and he may lose both patients."

  "Tell him this is probably only the beginning. Mr. Chekov, lock fire control into the computers. Set photon torpedoes two, four and six for widest possible scatter at the three highest intercept probabilities . . ."

  The enemy flashed by. The torpedoes bloomed harmlessly on the viewscreen. Another slam. Kirk's head reeled.

  "Number four shield has buckled."

  "Auxiliary power."

  "Sir, Mr. Scott reports auxiliary power is being called upon by Sickbay."

  "Divert."

  "Switching over—shields finning up. Number four still weak, sir. If they hit us there again, it'll go altogether."

  "Set computer to drop to number three and switch auxiliary back to Sickbay if it goes."

  "Aye, sir."

  Kirk heard the elevator doors open behind him, and then Lt. Josephs and another security guard were hustling Thelev before him, without ceremony. It took Kirk a moment to remember that he had ordered exactly this interruption. He stared harshly at the prisoner.

  "Your friends out there are good," he said. "But they'll have to blast this ship to dust to win."

  "That was intended from the beginning, Captain," Thelev said. He was, Kirk noted with a certain satisfaction, still rather lumpy from his attempt at killing, an impression heightened by the missing antenna. The small wound there had healed, but it looked more as though it had been a deep cut than the loss of a major organ.

  "You're not an Andorian. What did it take to make you over?"

  The Enterprise rocked again. Chekov said, "Shield four down."

  "Damage control procedures, all decks," Kirk said. Then, to Thelev; "That ship out there carries phasers. It's faster than we are, but weapon for weapon, we have it outgunned."

  Thelev only smiled. "Have you hit it yet, Captain?"

  Another shock, and a heavier one. Chekov said, "Shield three weakening. Shall I redivert auxiliary power, sir?"

  This was getting them nowhere; if it continued sheerly as a battle of attrition, the Enterprise would lose. And there was the operation to consider.

  "Engineering, this is the Captain. Blank out all power on the port side of the ship except for phaser banks. On my signal, cut starboard power. Kirk out." He turned back to Thelev. "Who are you?"

  "Find your own answers, Captain. You haven't long to live."

  "You're a spy, surgically altered to pass an an Andorian. You were planted in the Ambassador's party to use terror and murder to disrupt us and prepare for this attack."

  "Speculation, Captain."

  The ship shook again. Chekov said, "Shield three is gone, sir."

  "Engineering, blank out starboard power, all decks. Maintain until further orders."

  The lights on the bridge went out, except for gleams from the telltales on the panels, and the glow of stars from the viewscreen. In the dimness, Thelev at last looked slightly alarmed. "What are you doing?" he said.

  "You speculate."

  "We're starting to drift, Captain," Chekov said. "Shall I hold her on course?"

  "No. Stand by your phasers, Mr. Chekov."

  "Aye, sir. Phasers standing by."

  A blip of pulsing light again appeared in the screen, slowed down, held steady. Kirk leaned forward intently.

  "He's just hovering out there, sir."

  "Looking us over," Kirk said. "We're dead—as far as he knows. No starship commander would deliberately expose his ship like this, especially one stuffed with notables—or that's what I hope he thinks."

  "Range decreasing. Sublight speed."

  "Hold your fire."

  "Still closing—range one hundred thousand kilometers—phasers locked on target . . ."

  "Fire."

  The blip flared brightly on the screen. A jubilant shout went up from Chekov. "Got him!"

  "Lt. Uhura, open a hailing frequency. If they wish to surrender . . ."

  He was interrupted by a glaring burst of light from the viewscreen. Everyone instinctively ducked; the light was blinding. When Kirk could see the screen again, there was nothing on it but stars.

  "They could not surrender, Captain," Thelev said. "The ship had orders to self-destruct."

  "Lt. Uhura, relay to Starfleet Command. Tell them we have a prisoner."

  "Only temporarily, Captain," Thelev said. "You see, I had self-destruct orders, too. Slow poison—quite painless, actually, but there is no known antidote. I anticipate another ten minutes of life."

  Kirk turned to the security guards. "Take him to Sickbay," he said harshly.

  Josephs and the guard came down to flank Thelev, and began to shepherd him toward the elevator. As they reached the door, the spy crumpled, sagged, fell to his knees. He said tonelessly, "I seem to—have—miscalculated . . ."

  He fell face down and was still. Kirk rose wearily.

  "So did they," he said. "Put him in cold storage for an autopsy. Secure for General Quarters. Mr. Chekov, take over."

  He went down to the operating room. It was empty, the operating table clear, the instruments mutely inactive. After a moment, McCoy came in from the Sickbay area. He looked as drawn and tired as Kirk felt.

  "Bones?"

  "Are you quite through shaking this ship around?" the surgeon asked.

  "Sarek—Spock—how are they?"

  "I don't mind telling you, you make things difficult for a surgeon conducting a delicate operation which . . ."

  "Bones!"

  The Sickbay doors opened again and Amanda appeared. "Captain, come in," she said. Kirk shoved past McCoy eagerly.

  Inside, Sarek and Spock occupied two of the three beds, side by side. Both looked pale and exhausted, but reasonably chipper. Amanda sat down happily beside Sarek.

  "That pigheaded Vulcan stamina," McCoy's voice said behind him. "I couldn't have pulled them through without it."

  "Some doctors have all the luck."

  "Captain," Spock said. "I believe the alien . . ."

  "We damaged their ship," Kirk said. "They destroyed it to avoid capture. Bones, Thelev's body is being brought to your lab. I want an autopsy as soon as you feel up to it."

  "I believe you'll find he's what's usually called an Orion, Doctor," Spock said. "There are intelligence reports that Orion smugglers have been raiding the Coridian system."

  "But what could they gain by an attack on us?" Kirk asked.

  "Mutual suspicion," Sarek suggested, "and perhaps interplanetary war."

  Kirk nodded. "With Orion carefully neutral. She'd clean up by supplying dilithium to both sides—and continue to raid Coridan."

  "It was the power utilization curve that confused me," Spock said. "I did not realize that until I was just going under the anesthetic. The curve made it appear more powerful than a starship—than anything known to us. That ship was constructed for a suicide mission. Since they never intended to return to base, they could utilize one hundred per cent power in their attacks. I cannot understand why I didn't realize that earlier."

  Kirk looked at Sarek. "You might have had a few other things on your mind."

  "That does not seem likely."

  "No," Kirk said wryly. "But thank you anyway."

  "And you, Sarek," Amanda said. "Would you also say thank you to your son?"

  "I do not understand."

  "For saving your life."

  "Spock behaved in the only logical manner open to him," Sarek said. "One does not thank logic, Amanda."

  Amanda stiffened and exploded. "Logic! Logic! I am sick to death of logic. Do you want to know how I feel about your logic?"

  The two Vulcans studied the angry woman as though she were
some sort of exhibit. Spock glanced at his father and said, quite conversationally, "Emotional, isn't she?"

  "She has always been that way."

  "Indeed? Why did you marry her?"

  "At the time," Sarek said solemnly, "it seemed the logical thing to do."

  Amanda stared at them, stunned. Kirk could not help grinning, and McCoy was grinning, too. Amanda, turning to them in appeal, was startled; and then, obviously, suddenly realized that her leg was being pulled. A smile broke over her face.

  Equally suddenly, the room reeled. Kirk grabbed the edge of the table. Instantly, McCoy was beside him, guiding him toward the third bed.

  "Bones—really—I'm all right."

  "If you keep arguing with your kindly family doctor, you'll spend the next ten days right here. Cooperate and you'll get out in two."

  Kirk subsided, but now Spock was sitting up. "If you don't mind, Doctor, I'll report to my own station now."

  McCoy pointed firmly at the bed. "You're at your station, Spock."

  The First Officer shrugged and settled back. McCoy surveyed his three restive patients with an implacable expression.

  "Bones," Kirk said, "I think you're enjoying this."

  "Indeed, Captain," Spock agreed. "I've never seen him look so happy."

  "Shut up," McCoy commanded. There was a long silence. McCoy's expression gradually changed to one of incredulity.

  "Well, what do you know?" he said to Amanda. "I finally got the last word!"

  THE MENAGERIE*

  (Gene Roddenberry)

  * * *

  *As originally produced, this story ran in two parts. The main story, which takes place so far back in the history of the Enterprise that the only familiar face aboard her then was Spock, appeared surrounded by and intercut with an elaborate "framing" story, in which Spock is up for court-martial on charges of mutiny and offers the main story as an explanation of his inarguably mutinous behavior. Dramatically, this was highly effective—indeed, as I've already noted, it won a "Hugo" award in this category for that year—but told as fiction, it involves so many changes of viewpoint, as well as so many switches from present to past, that it becomes impossibly confusing. (I know—I've tried!) Hence the present version adapts only the main story, incidentally restoring to it the ending it had—never shown on television—before the frame was grafted onto it. I think the producers also came to feel that the double-plotted version had been a mistake; at least, "The Menagerie" turned out to be the only two-part episode in the entire history of the series.—J. B.