Star Trek 11

by James Blish

She didn't understand. ". . . you're . . . not going to . . .?"

  "The Federation doesn't kill or mistreat its prisoners. You've heard fables, propaganda." He looked away from her as though he'd forgotten her existence. "How much time now, Mr. Spock?"

  "Eight minutes and forty-two seconds, sir."

  Instead of taking a seat, Mara had gone to the panel Spock was studying. Reading it, she realized the dilithium situation. Near her, Uhura watched her as she turned in shocked belief. "So it was no trick . . ." she said, bewildered.

  Scott spoke. "The alien has done all this. We are in its power. Our people—and yours."

  Kirk rose from his chair. "We wanted only to end the fighting to save us all," he told her.

  Her relief had bred a need to explain. "We have always fought, Captain Kirk. We must. We are hunters, tracking and taking what we need. There are poor planets in the Klingon systems. We must push outward to survive."

  "Another way to survive is mutual trust, Mara. Mutual trust and mutual help."

  "I will help you now," she said.

  He'd hoped to no point too many times to feel anything but skepticism. "How?" he said.

  "I will take you to Kang. I will add my plea to yours."

  Scott's suspicion found voice. "Captain—I wouldn't trust her . . ."

  "We can't get past the Klingon defenses in time now, anyway—" Kirk paused. "Unless . . ." He whirled to Spock. "Spock! Intraship beaming! From one part of the ship to another! Is it possible?"

  "It has rarely been done, sir, because of the great danger involved. Pinpoint accuracy is needed. If the Transportee should materialize within any solid object—a wall or deck . . ."

  "Prepare the Transporter," Kirk said.

  "Mr. Scott, please help me with the Main Transporter Board." Spock moved to a panel but Scott hesitated, worried.

  "Even if it works, Captain, she may be leading you into a trap!"

  "We're all in a trap, Scotty. And this is our only way out of it."

  "We'll go with you, sir . . ."

  "That would start the final battle." Kirk took a long-searching look at Mara. "I believe her."

  Scott took one for himself. He believed her, too. "Aye, sir," he said.

  Mara entered the elevator. Following her, Kirk said, "We'll wait for your signal." As the doors closed, Scott thoughtfully fingered his sword. "But she can't guarantee that Kang will listen. Right, Mr. Spock?"

  But Spock was intent on the Main Transporter Board. "No one can guarantee another's actions, Mr. Scott."

  The Transporter Room was empty. Entering it, Kirk deliberately removed his sword; and, disarmed, placed the weapon on the console. Mara smiled at him. Spock's voice spoke from the intercom. "Your automatic setting is laid in, Captain. When the Transporter is energized, you will have eight seconds to get to the pads."

  The console was flickering with lights. As Kirk pressed a button, it beeped to every second that passed. Its hum rose and Kirk said, "I hope your computations are correct, Mr. Spock."

  "You will know in five point two seconds, Captain."

  Kirk and Mara went quickly into position on the platform. There were eight more beeps from the console before they shimmered out.

  At their appearance in Engineering, the startled Kang exploded to his feet. "Mara! You are alive! . . . and you bring us a prize!" He turned, shouting, "Guards!"

  Swords drawn, his men ringed Kirk.

  "Kang—wait!" Mara cried. "He has. come alone—unarmed! He must talk to you!"

  "Brave Captain. What about?" Kang swung to his men. "Kill him."

  Mara rushed into place before Kirk. "No! You must listen! There is great danger to us all!"

  Kang paused—and Kirk moved her aside, unwilling to allow her shield to him. "Before you start killing," he said, "give me one minute to speak!"

  Kang ignored him. He spoke to Mara. "What have they done to you? How have they affected your mind?" Then he spotted her torn garment, her bruised shoulder. His slanted eyes went icy. "Ah, I see why this human beast did not kill you . . ."

  She flashed into action. She seized a sword and tossed it to Kirk. He caught it as Kang launched himself headlong into attack. Defending himself, he retreated before another fierce slash. Mara, held by a Klingon, was struggling, agonized by the turn events had taken.

  "They didn't harm me! Kang, listen to Kirk!"

  Kang backed away for another onrush. "With his death, we win!"

  "Nobody wins!" Kirk shouted. "Have any of your men died?" He broke into sudden attack but only to bring himself closer to Kang. "Listen! We can't be killed—any of us! There's an alien aboard this ship that needs us alive!"

  Kang shoved him away only to come back with another vicious onslaught.

  "You fool!" Mara screamed.

  From behind them all, the Transporter humming sounded. Spock, McCoy, Sulu and the Enterprise forces sparkled into shape and substance. Kang's men rushed forward, swords aimed. The Security guards, led by Sulu who uttered a yell that might have been "Banzai!" closed with them.

  Kirk, downing a Klingon with a hard right to the jaw, reached Kang—and grabbed him. Nose to nose, he shouted, "Listen to me! Let me prove what I say!"

  Kang wrenched free, his sword up for the lethal downsweep. Kirk parried the blow in mid-descent. Mara, huddled against a wall, covered her face with her hands, despairing. Kang came back with another vicious slash. As Kirk ducked it, he heard the triumphant throbbing. He looked up. The crystal—above their heads, brighter than he'd ever seen it—was casting its virulent red light on Kang's face.

  The sight was all that he needed. He pushed Kang back, pinning him, and whirled him around to face their common enemy.

  "LOOK! Up there!"

  Kang looked. He shot a glance at Kirk—but the real meaning of what he'd seen didn't get through to him.

  The fight went on, interminably. Sulu plunged his sword into an opponent's chest. The Klingon staggered, pawing at the wound. Then he rallied. He drove so straight for Sulu's heart that the Enterprise helmsman barely managed to escape the thrust.

  Kang, his eyes on the crystal, was just beginning to get the lay of the land. Kirk pressed his advantage. ". . . for the rest of our lives, Kang! For a thousand lifetimes—fighting, this insane violence! That alien over our heads will control us forever!"

  The crystal throbbed loudly. Kirk himself felt the heat of its bloody radiance. But Kang still twisted, snarling, avid for killing. Kirk smashed the sword that had reappeared in his hand. He struck it furiously against a bulkhead. It broke. Kang stared at him. Then he stepped forward, his own weapon upraised. Kirk stood his ground.

  "Come on! In the brain, the heart—it doesn't matter, Kang! I won't stay dead! Next time the thing will see to it that I kill you. And you won't stay dead! The good old game of war—mindless pawn against mindless pawn! While something somewhere sits back and laughs . . . laughs fit to kill, Kang—and starts it all over again . . ."

  The sword was at his throat.

  "Jim—jump him!" McCoy shouted.

  Spock spoke out of his wise Vulcan heritage. "Those who hate and fight must stop themselves, Doctor—or it is not stopped."

  Mara had flung herself at Kang's feet. "I'm your wife—a Klingon! Would I lie for them? Listen to Kirk. He is telling the truth!"

  "Then be a pawn!" Kirk said. "A toy—the good soldier who never asks questions!"

  Kang looked up at the excitedly throbbing crystal. Very slowly, his hand relaxed on the sword. It dropped to the deck.

  "Klingons," he told the crystal, "kill for their own purposes." He turned to his men, shouting. "Cease hostilities! At rest!"

  They were puzzled by the order—but they obeyed. Kang yanked a Klingon away from a downed Security man. "At rest! At rest! You heard the order!"

  Through the open door they could all hear the clashing sounds of continuing battle in other parts of the ship. "All fighting must be stopped, Captain, if the alien is to be weakened before our fuel is gone."

  Kang
had lifted Mara to her feet. They joined Kirk at the intercom as he activated it, Kang still suspicious.

  "Lieutenant Uhura, put me on shipwide intercom . . ."

  "Ready, Captain."

  "Attention, all hands! A truce is ordered . . . the fighting is over! Regroup and lay down weapons." He stepped back, speaking urgently. "Kang! Your turn at the intercom . . ."

  The Klingon hesitated, reluctant. He couldn't resist a push at Kirk as he moved to the intercom. "This is Kang. Cease hostilities. Disarm."

  The crystal was bobbing wildly with anger; but its throbbing had lessened and its redness was dimmer. "The cessation of violence appears to have weakened the alien," Spock said. "I suggest that good spirits might prove to be an effective weapon."

  Kirk nodded. A hard smile on his lips, he addressed the crystal. "Get off my ship!" The thing retreated, still bobbing. "You're powerless here. You're a dead duck. We know all about you—and we don't want to play your game anymore."

  The throbbing was fainter. Spock was right. What the invader needed was a cheerful scorn. Kirk looked up at it. "Maybe there are others' like you still around. Maybe you've caused a lot of suffering—a lot of history. That's all over. We'll be on guard . . . we'll be ready for you. Now butt out!" He laughed at the crystal. "Haul it!"

  McCoy waved a contemptuous hand. "Get out, already!" he yelled.

  As the throbbing faded, Kirk was amazed to hear a hoarse chuckle from Kang. Then he laughed as though he weren't used to it. His gusto grew. "Out!" he shouted at the crystal. "We need no urging to hate humans!" He laughed harder at Spock's irritated glance. "But for the present—only fools fight in a burning house."

  Guffawing, he rattled Kirk's teeth with a sadistic whack on the back. McCoy nudged Spock. After a moment, the Vulcan thumbed his nose at the crystal. "You will please leave," he said.

  The red was now a dull flicker. They all watched it, laughing. Suddenly the crystal vanished through a bulkhead. Floating in space outside the Starship, it flared up and winked out.

  The forced laughter had come hard. Kirk's relief from hours of nervous strain overwhelmed him so that he wasn't surprised to see that swords and shields had disappeared. Spock and McCoy discovered their phasers in place. McCoy made a point of drawing his; and Kang, noting the weapon, went right on chuckling. Caution—it was how things were between the Federation and his Klingon Empire.

  Uhura's voice spoke. "Captain, jettisoning of fuel has stopped. The trapped crewmen are free. All systems returning to normal."

  "Carry on, Lieutenant. Mr. Sulu, resume your post Set course for—well, set it for any old star in the galaxy!"

  As Sulu left, Kirk nearly knocked Kang from his feet with a mighty thump on the back. Kang spun around, blood in his eye—and Kirk grinned at him. "Friends!" he said.

  The command chair was a place again where a man could relax. For a moment, anyway. Kirk leaned back in his seat.

  "Ahead, Mr. Sulu. Warp one." He turned to Kang and Mara. "We'll reach a neutral planet by tomorrow. You'll be dropped there. No war, this time."

  He eyed Mara. A real woman, that one. If she hadn't been Kang's wife . . . if there had been time. Ah well, no man could accommodate all opportunities . . .

  Kang was saying, "Why do you humans revere peace? It is the weakling's way. There's a galaxy to be taken, Kirk, with all its riches!"

  Spock looked up. "Two animals may fight over a bone, sir—or they can pool their abilities, hunt together more efficiently and share justly. Curiously, it works out about the same."

  Kang turned. "One animal must trust the other animal."

  "Agreed," Kirk said. "Cooperate . . . or fight uselessly throughout eternity. A universal rule you Klingons had better learn." He paused. "We did."

  Had it got through? Maybe. At any rate, Kang's face seemed unusually thoughtful.

  PLATO'S STEPCHILDREN

  (Meyer Dolinsky)

  * * *

  The planet was uncharted; but the sensors of the Enterprise, in orbit around it, had detected mineral and chemical riches under its rugged, mountainous surface. Spock looked up from his viewer to say briefly, "Kironide deposits, too, Captain."

  "Record coordinates," Kirk told him.

  Uhura turned. "Mr. Spock, what is kironide?"

  "A particularly potent and long-lasting source of power, Lieutenant—very rare."

  She was about to question him further when her board's lights flashed. Surprise still on her face, she reported to Kirk. "A distress signal's coming in, Captain."

  It was disconcerting news. An uncharted planet, apparently uninhabited—and an SOS call. Kirk said, "Let's have it. Put it on audio, Lieutenant."

  A woman's voice, amplified by the bridge's audio system, was loud enough for everyone to hear.

  "My spouse is dying. We need a physician immediately. The situation is urgent. If there's a physician hearing this, we need you. Please make contact. My spouse is dying . . ."

  Kirk said, "I thought there was no life down there, Mr. Spock."

  "The sensors still read negative, sir."

  But the voice was still with them. "Please help us. We are in desperate need of a physician. My spouse is dying. Acknowledge . . . acknowledge . . . please . . ."

  "Mr. Spock, life forms or no life forms, that distress call sounds authentic." Kirk got up and strode to Uhura's station. "Lieutenant, acknowledge and report that we're beaming down at once. Notify Dr. McCoy to meet us in the Transporter Room."

  Medikit in hand, McCoy materialized with Kirk and Spock in front of a colonnaded promenade. At first glance, there seemed to be no one around. Then Kirk spotted movement at the rear of a marble column. A dwarf, clearly frightened and wearing a short Greek robe that left one misshapen shoulder bare, broke from behind the column and scuttled to them.

  "Are you from the spaceship Enterprise?"

  Kirk looked down at him for a moment before he spoke. "That's right."

  "No offense," the dwarf said hastily. He bowed low. "Alexander . . . at your service. I sing, I dance, I play all variety of games and I'm a good loser. A very good loser. And I try, I try very hard. Please bear that in mind."

  It was an extraordinary speech. The Enterprise men looked at each other, nonplussed, and the dwarf said, "Now, if you'll accompany me . . ."

  "Who inhabits this planet?" Kirk said.

  The little creature bowed again. "Platonians. You've never heard of us. Our home star is Sahndara. Millennia ago, just before it novaed, we got off. Our leader liked Plato's ideas—Plato—Platonians, see? In fact, Parmen, our present philosopher-king, calls us Plato's children. Some of us think we're more like stepchildren." He gave a nervous little laugh. "Now, please—they're waiting for you . . ."

  He wheeled around and hurried ahead of them like a mechanical doll set suddenly into motion.

  The Enterprise three hesitated. Then, curious but a little uneasy, they followed him.

  Whoever McCoy's prospective patient was, he had done very well for himself. The dwarf ushered them into a stately, atrium-like court pillared by marble. In the center of the place, a nymph of marble dripped water from an urn into a reflecting pool. There was a game board on the left, flanked by benches, the pieces it held geometrically shaped into balls, pyramids, cylinders and cubes. Two tall robed men stood near a couch where another one reclined, his legs covered. Kirk saw a spasm of pain convulse his face. It seemed to deeply concern the dark, beautiful woman who was stooping over him. She touched his bald head gently before she hurried forward to greet the newcomers.

  "Parmen and I welcome you to our Republic," she said. "I am Philana, his wife. Who among you is the physician?"

  So the Platonians' philosopher-king was the patient. The startled McCoy said, "I am. What is the problem?"

  She gestured to the couch. "You must do something . . ."

  Following her, McCoy removed the covering from his patient's legs. An infection had swollen the left one almost to the knee. "What happened to that leg?" he said.

&nbs
p; With a sick man's irritation, Parmen snapped, "What do you suppose? I scratched it!"

  "I don't understand," McCoy said. "Why wasn't this attended to immediately?"

  "Sheer ignorance. Is there anything you can do?"

  The question put McCoy on guard. "We're certainly going to try. The infection is massive. Let me give you a shot to ease the pain."

  McCoy opened his medikit; but before he so much as touched his hypo, it rose from the kit and sailing through the air, hovered for a moment. Kirk and Spock were looking up at it in amazement when Parmen said, "Where?"

  McCoy came out of his shock. "Your arm," he said.

  The hypo alighted on Parmen's upper arm, delivered the shot and replaced itself in the medikit. The sick man noted McCoy's expression. "Sorry, didn't mean to take matters out of your hands," he said. "But I can't risk any further contamination."

  Watching, the dwarf touched Philana's white robe. "Mistress, they've come to help. They deserve better than to die."

  Alexander had spoken so softly that Kirk didn't hear the plea. But what he saw was enough. The little man's mouth was forced open. His fist clenched and was shoved into the open mouth. Then his teeth were snapped back to bite into his knuckles.

  "Alexander, you talk too much," Philana said.

  The fist was left in the mouth. Over it the dwarf's tormented eyes met Kirk's.

  "What is your prognosis, Doctor?"

  Parmen barely managed to utter the words. His breath was coming in heavy pants and he was perspiring profusely. But McCoy, scanning him with his tricorder, had not forgotten the hypo episode. "It will be better," he said, "if I handle my instruments myself without any help from you."

  His patient stifled a cry of agony. McCoy took another closer reading of his tricorder's dials. As Parmen moaned, turning on his side, Kirk approached the couch. "I don't understand how a simple scratch could get this serious," he said to McCoy.

  The Enterprise surgeon stepped to one side. "Neither do I. But it has. And how do I knock out an infection with a tricorder that has no information on Platonian bacteria? All I can do—and it's going to take time—is match his bugs with a known strain and hope."