Star Trek 11

by James Blish

  Calmer than custard, Spock said, "The computer report, Captain . . ."

  There was a click—and the computer voice said, "Alien life force on board is composed of pure energy. Type unknown. Actions indicate intelligence and purpose."

  "What purpose?" Spock said.

  The metallic computer voice said, "Insufficient data for further analysis."

  The computer's stark admission of inadequacy fired Kirk into new, creative thought. Out of his human memory banks he made connections. "A brother that never existed," he said. "A phantom colony—fancied distress calls! The illusion that phasers are swords! Do you begin to sense a pattern, Mr. Spock?"

  Spock, loyal to facts, looked up. "If the alien has caused these phenomena, it is apparently able to manipulate matter and minds."

  "Now it's controlling the Enterprise—taking us out of the galaxy! Why?"

  "I am constrained to point out, Captain, that as minds are evidently being influenced, we cannot know that our own memories at this moment are accurate."

  Kirk faced his sole alternative. "We've got to talk to Kang and bury the hatchet!"

  "An appropriate choice of terms, sir. However, once blood has been drawn, it is notoriously difficult to arrange a truce with Klingons . . ."

  "A truce?"

  It was McCoy—an outraged, infuriated McCoy. His white surgical uniform was blood-spattered. "I've got seven men down in Sickbay—some of them dying—atrocities committed on their persons! And you can talk of making peace with those fiends? They'd jump us the minute our backs were turned! We know what Klingons do to prisoners! Slave labor, death planets—experiments!"

  Kirk had never seen Bones so angry. "McCoy—" he began.

  McCoy rushed on. "Even while you're talking, the Klingons are planning attacks! This is a fight to the death—and we'd better start trying to win it!"

  "We are trying to end it, Doctor." Spock's voice was more than usually quiet. "There is an alien aboard which may have created this situation . . ."

  McCoy glared at him. "Who cares what started it! We're in it! Those murderers! Let's wipe out every one of them!"

  "Bones, the alien is the enemy we have to wipe out—"

  Uhura cut in. "Sickbay calling, Doctor. There are more wounded men requiring your attention."

  McCoy wheeled, starting back to the elevator. Then he turned again to Kirk and Spock. "How many men have to die before you begin acting like military men instead of damn fools?" The elevator doors closed on his bleakly hopeless face. Kirk looked at Spock. The Vulcan murmured, "Extraordinary."

  Kang was on the intercom. Kirk spoke quickly. "There's something important we must discuss . . ."

  Vindictive and triumphant, Kang's voice said, "I have captured your Engineering section! I now control this ship's power and life support systems." At Engineering's intercom he nodded to Mara. She moved a series of switches and Kang spoke again into the intercom.

  "I have deprived all areas of life support except our own. You will die . . . of suffocation . . . in the icy cold of space . . ."

  On the bridge, lights were dimming. Panels were going dark.

  Kirk walked slowly over to Sulu's station. "Mr. Sulu, get down to Emergency Manual Control. Try to protect life support circuits and activate auxiliary power . . ."

  "Aye, Captain." But as Sulu approached the elevator, Scott burst out of it. He barely acknowledged the helmsman's smile of relief at his safety. Kirk went to him. "Scotty! I'm glad you escaped . . ."

  Scott was shaking. "Chekov was right, Captain! We should've left those slant-eyed goons in the Transporter! That's right where they belong—in nonexistence! Now they can study the Enterprise—add our technology to theirs—change the balance of power!" He lurched at Kirk, not in attack but in a blind misery that was seeking; some shred of comfort. "You've jeopardized the Federation!"

  The charge was a cry of anguish. "Scotty . . ."

  Spock had joined them. "Mr. Scott, calm yourself," he said.

  Scott pulled back. For one terrible moment, Kirk feared he was going to spit at Spock, such aversion showed in his face. "Keep your Vulcan hands off me! Just stay away! Your 'feelings' might get hurt, you green-blooded, halfbreed freak!"

  Kirk didn't believe his ears. Appalled, he stared at Scott. Then Spock made his icy retort. "Let me say that I have not enjoyed serving with humans. I find their illogical and foolish emotions a constant irritant."

  "So transfer out!" Scott shouted.

  Spock moved toward Scott. He loomed darkly formidable over him—and Scott, frightened, took a clumsy punch at him. Kirk grabbed their arms; but Spock, twisting easily free, seemed about to use his great strength in an upsurge of rage he couldn't govern. Kirk tried again; and yanking them apart, crashed back into his command chair. "Spock! Scotty! Stow it!" He pinned them, panting. "What's happening to us! What are we saying to each other?"

  Spock pushed Kirk away. Kirk braced himself, ready for some ultimate disaster. But nothing happened. Spock was himself again, perhaps a little more impassive than usual.

  "Fascinating," he said to Kirk. "A result of stress, Captain?"

  "We've been under stress before! It hasn't set us at each other's throats!" Scott had started forward again and Kirk pushed him back.

  "This is a war!" Scott yelled.

  "There isn't any war . . ." Kirk paused, the sound of his own words in his ears. "Or—is there?"

  "Have we forgotten how to defend ourselves?" Scott cried.

  "Shut up, Scotty." Kirk paced at the back of his command chair, frowning as he put his two's together. "What is happening to us? We're trained to think in other terms—than war! We're trained to fight its causes whenever possible! So why are we reacting like savages?" The two's were adding up. He swung around to his men. "There are two forces on this ship, armed equally. Has—a war been staged for us? A war complete with weapons, grievances, patriotic drumbeats?" He turned on Scott. "Even race hatred!"

  Spock had nodded. "Recent events would seem directed to a magnification of basic human and Klingon hostilities. Apparently, it is by design that we fight. We seem to be pawns."

  "In what game?" Kirk said. "Whose game? What are the rules?"

  "It is most urgent," Spock said, "that we locate the alien entity, determine its motives—and some means of halting its activities."

  Scott's startled thoughts had been tumbling around in his head. He was quieter now—and guilt-stricken. He spoke to Spock. "Without sensors, sir? All our power down? The thing can pass through walls. It could be anywhere."

  Kirk hit his intercom. "Mr. Sulu, report!"

  Sulu was at the Jeffries tube, peering up into it. "No good, Captain. Circuits are in but systems aren't responding." As he spoke, the tube's complex instruments flickered with light and settled down to a steady pattern. He heard Kirk say, "Are we getting something?"

  "Aye, sir. Power and life support restored—remotes on standby . . ."

  "Good work!" Kirk told him.

  "But Captain—I didn't do it! Everything just came on by itself!"

  Kirk thought, "Well, this is a gift horse I don't look too close in the mouth of." He said, "All right, Mr. Sulu. Get back to Manual Control. Kirk out."

  The bridge lights had come back to normal. Panels had resumed their humming. Spock turned. "Sensors operating again, Captain."

  "Start scanning, Mr. Spock. Look for the alien."

  In Engineering, a puzzled Mara was studying lights on a large board. "Their life support systems have resumed and are holding steady," she told Kang.

  "Cause them to.be unsteady," he said.

  "They appear to be controlled from another location." For the first time her voice was uncertain. "I'm also unable to affect the ship's course—to return to our Empire."

  "Some trick of Kirk's? Has he bypassed these circuits? What power is it that supports our battle, yet starves our victory? Interrupt power at their main life support couplings. Where are they?"

  She looked at the diagrams on the viewer. "Th
ey are on this deck." At Kang's nod, she spoke to a Klingon. "Come with me."

  Above them in the bridge, Spock had tensed. He whirled to Kirk. "Alien detected, Captain! In the Engineering level, near reactor number three!"

  Kirk leaped from his chair. "Let's go!"

  Mara, the Klingon behind her, was rushing down a corridor that led to the couplings. As they passed an alcove, Chekov, sword drawn, moved out of it, his face hate-filled. Two well-aimed slashes disposed of the Klingon. Mara was turning to run when Chekov grabbed her and whirled her around. She fought well; but Chekov blocked her karate blow. He pinned her back against the wall, sword at her throat. It was a lovely throat. Chekov's manner changed. He eyed her with an ugly speculation, grinning. "No, you don't die—yet," he said. "You're not human but you're beautiful, aren't you?" His grip on her tightened. "Just how human are you?"

  She pushed at him, struggling against the grip. Chekov placed his hand over her mouth and was pressing her into the alcove when Kirk and Spock raced out of the elevator. Assault was the last thing on their minds. Hearing Mara's muffled scream, they stared at each other. Then they broke into a run, rounded a comer—and stopped dead in their tracks at what they saw.

  "Chekov!"

  Chekov wheeled to face Kirk, a wild beast deprived of its prey. Mara's garment was ripped from her shoulders. Chekov spun her away. She hit a wall and dropped. He tried to dodge Kirk and failed. Kirk seized him, slapping his face forehand, backhand. Chekov sobbed; and raising his sword, made a swipe at Kirk. He was disarmed and i felled with a punch. Beside himself with fury, Kirk struck him again.

  Spock put a hand on Kirk's shoulder. "Captain . . . he is not responsible . . ."

  Mara, crouched on the deck, was trying to pull her torn clothes together. Kirk went to her. "Listen to me," he said. "There's an alien entity aboard this ship. It's forcing us to fight. We don't know its motives—we're trying to find out. Will you help us? Will you take me to Kang . . . a temporary truce! That's all I ask!"

  Mingled fear and hate blazed from her eyes. Kirk turned his back on her. "Bring her, Spock." He moved to the weeping Chekov and lifted him gently in his arms. Was this what was in store for all of them? Hatred, violence wherever they turned?

  McCoy was redressing Galloway's wound when Kirk carried Chekov into Sickbay. He looked up, taking them all in, Kirk, the still sobbing Chekov clinging to him, a disheveled Mara, closely followed by Spock. Shaking his head, he left Galloway and hurried to help Kirk place Chekov on an exam table. He applied a device to the new patient's head.

  "Brainwaves show almost paranoid mania. What happened, Jim?"

  "He's—lost control—useless as a fighter." He turned to the door. "Come on, Spock . . ."

  McCoy stopped him with a hand on his arm. He seemed somewhat calmer himself but his tired face was bewildered. "Jim—Galloway's heart wound has almost entirely healed! The same with the other casualties. Sword wounds . . . into vital organs—massive trauma, shock—and they're all healing at a fantastic rate!"

  Spock spoke. "The entity would appear to want us alive."

  ". . . Why?" Kirk said. "So we can fight and fight—and always come back for more? Some kind of bloody Colosseum? What next? The roar of crowds?"

  Galloway was listening. And he was buying none of it. His jaw hardened. He wanted out from Sickbay and for only one reason—another crack at the Klingons.

  Kirk felt the lieutenant's hostility like a tangible thing. "Spock, let's find that alien!" He looked at Mara. "You come along. Maybe we can prove to you that it exists!"

  In the corridor, Spock unlimbered his tricorder. He led the way, searching cautiously, the tricorder first aimed one way, then another. When they reached a second intersection, Spock paused, gesturing to his left. They turned the corner—and they all heard the crystal's faint humming. Without speaking, Spock signaled them to look up to the right side of the corridor. The crystal was floating there, brighter than it had ever been.

  Kirk shot a significant look at Mara. Now that she was forced to believe, she was staring at the thing's swirling red.

  "What is it?" Kirk said.

  "Totally unfamiliar, Captain."

  Kirk approached the crystal. "What do you want? Why are you doing all this?" It hovered silently, persistent.

  Kirk, close to blowing his stack, shouted, "What do you want?"

  The thing glowed still brighter, bobbing slightly. Spock, noting the increased glow, whirled at a sound. Galloway, still bandaged, was coming down the corridor, a little weak but grimly determined. He hefted his sword—and started to push past them as though he didn't see them.

  "Lieutenant Galloway!" Kirk cried. "What are you doing here? Did the Doctor release you?"

  "I'm releasing myself!"

  First, Chekov's insubordination. Now this one. It took all Kirk's strength to remember that the crystal was in the business of war, dissension and rule-breaking.

  "Go back to Sickbay," he said.

  "Not on your life! I'm fit and ready for action!" He shook Kirk's hand from his arm. "The Klingons nearly put me away for good! I'm going to get me some scalps . . ."

  "I order you!" Kirk said.

  "I've got my orders! I'm obeying orders! To Kill Klingons! It's them or us, isn't it?"

  The crystal had bobbed over Galloway's head. Spock, looking up, saw it bob as Galloway pushed past him, heading for an elevator. He tagged the man with a neck pinch. Kirk saw Galloway slump, unconscious, to the deck. Spock's eyes were already back on the crystal. Its glow had faded.

  "Most interesting," Spock said.

  His eyes returned to Kirk. "During Mr. Galloway's emotional outburst—his expressions of hatred and lust for vengeance—the alien's life-energy level increased. When the lieutenant became unconscious, the alien lost energy."

  "A being that subsists on the emotions of others?" Kirk said.

  "Such creatures are not unknown, Captain. I refer you to the Drella of Alpha Cannae five—energy creatures who are nourished by the cooperation of love they feel for one another." He had neared the crystal and was looking up at it, composed and calm. "This creature appears to be strengthened by mental radiations of hostility, by violent intentions . . ."

  "It feeds—on hate!" Complete illumination dawned on Kirk.

  "Yes, to put it simply, Captain. And it has acted as a catalyst to create this situation in order to satisfy that need. It has drawn fighting forces together, supplied crude weapons to promote the most violent mode of conflict. It has spurred racial animosities—"

  "And kept numbers and resources balanced to maintain a stable state of violence! Spock, it's got to have a vulnerable area. It's got to be stopped!"

  "Then all hostile attitudes on board must be eliminated, sir. The fighting must end—and soon."

  Kirk nodded. "I agree. Otherwise, we'll be a doom ship—traveling forever between galaxies . . . filled with bloodlust . . . eternal warfare! Kang has to listen—we've got to pool our knowledge to get rid of that thing!"

  The crystal was showing agitation, bobbing as though angry that its secret was known. Now, as Kirk strode to an intercom, it moved toward him, throbbing loudly. For a moment Kirk wavered. Then he walked on. The crystal, its hum furious, approached Mara. Suddenly, without warning, she hurled herself at Kirk, biting, scratching, pushing him away from the intercom. Spock lifted her from Kirk, quietly pinning her arms to her sides.

  Kirk hit all buttons. "Kang! This is Kirk! Kang! Kang!"

  Mara shrieked, "Commander! It's a trick! They are located—"

  Spock's steel hand went over her mouth. At the intercom, Kirk hit the buttons again. "Kang!" It was hopeless. The Klingon wouldn't answer.

  "The alien is affecting his mind, Captain. Soon it will grow so powerful that none of us will be able to resist it."

  The intercom beeped and Kirk hit it fast—fast and hopefully. "Kirk here!"

  "Scotty, sir. The ship's dilithium crystals are deteriorating. We can't stop the process . . ."

  Kirk struc
k the wall with his fist. "Time factor, Scotty?"

  "In twelve minutes we'll be totally without engine power, sir."

  "Do everything you can. Kirk out."

  The crystal stopped bobbing. It glowed brilliantly, back in the driver's seat. As they watched it, it vanished through a wall. Kirk spoke to Mara. "So we drift forever . . . with only hatred and bloodshed aboard. Now do you believe?"

  Her strained eyes stared into his. But she made no answer.

  The dilithium crystals were still losing power. Spock, rallying all his scientific know-how, toured the bridge, examining panels. Finally, he broke the bad news to Kirk. There was nothing to be done to halt the crystals' decay.

  "We have nine minutes and fifty-seven seconds before power zero," he said. "But there is a logical alternative, Captain." He was looking at Mara, his face speculative. "Kang's wife, after all, is our prisoner. A threat made to him . . ."

  "That's something the Klingons would understand," Scott urged.

  Mara had flinched, remembering the unspeakable atrocities said to be visited on Klingon prisoners by their human captors. Kirk saw her remembering them. Though the idea of using her to threaten Kang just might result in a productive discussion with him, it revolted him. On the other hand, peace between them was the sole hope now. After a long, painful moment, he said, "You're right, Mr. Spock."

  He flicked on his intercom. This was going to be difficult. He harshened his voice. "Kang. Kang! This is Captain Kirk. I know you can hear me . . . Don't cut me off! We have Mara—your wife!"

  At Engineering's intercom, Kang was listening. Kirk's voice went on. "We talk truce now—or she dies. Reply!"

  Kang was silent.

  "She has five seconds to live, Kang! Reply!"

  The answer came. "She is a victim of war, Captain. She understands." Kang flicked off the intercom, his dark emotion visible to his men. He turned to them. "When we get Kirk, he is mine," he said.

  The last card had been played. Kirk looked at Mara. She had stiffened, her head held high, proud, a queen awaiting death. He pointed to a seat. "Sit over there and keep out of our way. Lieutenant Uhura, guard her."