by James Blish
"Denied," Kirk said.
"But, Jim . . ."
"You have your orders!"
Without a backward look, Kirk started to climb the hillock topped by the rock. Spock, McCoy and Gem moved after him.
The rock was flat as a table. As Kirk walked up to the Vians, Lal said, "You are prepared?"
"Let's get on with it!" Kirk looked into the frigid Vian eyes—and a suspicion chilled him. He turned to check on the others' whereabouts. Spock and McCoy had disappeared. For a moment a hot rage choked him so that he was unable to speak. Then he said, "Where are my friends?"
"They are safe."
"Where are they? You said they'd be released! You said you needed one specimen! One specimen! You have it—me! Let the others go!"
Thann nodded to Lal. "Indeed the prime ingredient."
Kirk was shaking. "Never mind the ingredients! Where are my men? Tell me!" The rage broke free. He leaped at Thann. The control bar was lifted. In mid-leap Kirk winked out.
The Enterprise was having its troubles. The solar flares had not diminished. A worried Sulu, turning to Scott in Kirk's command chair, said, "Cosmic ray concentration is still above acceptable levels for orbiting the planet, sir."
Scott went to him. "I don't like it, Mr. Sulu. Constant exposure to this much radiation could raise the hob with Life Support and our other vital systems."
"Shall I change course to compensate, sir?"
"Not yet." Scott punched the intercom. "Bridge to all sections. We will continue to maintain our present position outside the Minarian star system. Report any sudden increase in radiation levels to the bridge immediately. Medical sections and Life Support will remain on standby alert." Swinging his chair to the helm station, he said,"Mr. Sulu, estimate how much longer we have until those solar flares subside."
Eyeing his viewer, Sulu moved buttons on his console. "Readings now indicate 2.721 on the Van Allen scale, sir. At the present rate of decrease, we'll have to wait at least seventeen more hours before we can even attempt entering orbit."
Scott nodded glumly. "Aye. Well, as long as we're stuck out here, we might just as well relax and wait till the storm has passed."
"It has already lasted four more hours than we anticipated, sir. Do you think our landing party could be in any danger?"
"Not likely, Mr. Sulu. The planet's atmosphere will give them ample protection. If I know Captain Kirk, he's more worried about us than we are about him . . ."
Kirk had been stripped to the waist. His arms were stretched wide, held in their spread-eagled position by two shackles. He was drenched with sweat. Gem, clinging to a laboratory table, was trembling, her eyes closed.
"All right," he said wearily. "What is it you want to know?"
"We seek no 'information,' as you understand the word. Your civilization is yet too immature to possess knowledge of value to us," Lal said.
Kirk raised his heavy head. "Our knowledge has no value but you're willing to kill to get it! Is that what happened to Linke and Ozaba?"
Thann took a step toward him. "We did not kill them! Their own fears did it!"
"Just exactly what did you expect from them? What is it you want from me?"
"We have already observed the intensity of your passions, Captain. We have gauged your capacity to love others. Now we want you to reveal your courage and strength of will."
Kirk's shoulders were going numb. "Why?" he said, his head drooping. He forced it up. "Why, Lal? What do you hope to prove?" The shackles were too tight. It was their bite into the flesh of his arms that was keeping him conscious. He was glad of the shackles—but tired. Very tired. "If . . . if my death is going to have any meaning, at least tell me what I am dying for."
Lal lifted his control bar. A flicker of light played over Kirk's swaying body. At the table Gem staggered.
The Vians' transporter had conveyed Spock and McCoy back to the arena. McCoy followed Spock as the Vulcan used his tricorder. "The passage out was there before, Spock! It's got to be there now!"
"I am unable to lock in on the previous readings, Doctor. I can find no exit from here."
A circle of light flared before the couch. It widened, materializing into the forms of Kirk and Gem. His wrists were torn and bleeding; and the swollen veins on his neck were blue. When Spock and McCoy rushed to him, the force field flung them back.
"Jim! What have they done to you?"
Inside the field, Gem had taken Kirk's bleeding hands in hers. Her face and body writhed with his agony. Then red stigmata, identical to his wounds, appeared on her wrists. She backed away and the marks faded. She hesitated, looking at Spock and McCoy.
McCoy stopped straining to reach Kirk. "Help him, Gem. Don't be afraid to help him."
She kept her eyes on them as though the sight of them gave her strength. Again she took Kirk's bleeding wrists—and again her own began to bleed. But this time she ignored both her pain and her wounds. She knelt down on the floor and, cradling Kirk's head on her lap, began to massage his neck and shoulders. Once more there was the strange effect of her touch. His pain visibly eased. Their injuries vanished at the same moment. Gently she laid his head on the floor. Then she slid away from him, too weakened to get to her feet. Kirk reached out a hand to her.
The force field dissolved. Spock and McCoy hurried to them. Still dazed, Kirk struggled to rise. "Gem?" he whispered.
"Lie still!" McCoy said. "I'll check her out right now."
He had to carry her to her couch. Her eyes were closed. McCoy was staring at his medical tricorder, incredulous. The body he'd laid on the couch had been almost transparent, as though entirely drained of life. Now, before his eyes, it was recovering its solidity. Smiling, Gem looked up at McCoy. He smoothed the soft hair back from her forehead and left her to go to Kirk.
He was sitting up. "Is she all right?"
"She seems fine again."
"Bones, can you explain what happened?"
McCoy spoke excitedly. "Complete empathy—that's what it was! She must be a totally functional Empath! Her nervous system actually connected to yours to counteract the worst of your symptoms. With her strength she virtually sustained your physiological reactions."
"It weakened her," Kirk said. "I could feel it. Does this ability endanger her life?"
"It's impossible to say yet. Supplying life support to you did drain her." Spock said, "She was afraid to approach the Captain after the first sharp impact of his pain. It was only your urgent plea, Doctor, that caused her to continue."
"Fear would naturally be the first reaction, Spock." McCoy went to the couch and took Gem's hands. Smiling at her, he said, "She doesn't know our Captain well enough—not yet—to offer up her life for him."
"Could the strain really have killed her?" Kirk persisted.
"I would assume that her instinct for self-preservation would take over to prevent that, Jim." He returned to Kirk. "How do you feel?"
"Tired . . . just tired."
"Captain, can you recall what happened?"
Kirk spoke slowly. "I'm not sure. I remember the laboratory . . . there was something they wanted to know. What it was I can't remember." His voice rose. "I wish I could! I can't!"
"Easy does it, Jim. Take it easy."
"What's wrong with me, Bones?"
McCoy studied his tricorder, frowning. "You have all the symptoms of the 'bends.' Nitrogen bubbles in your blood caused the pain. But how did you get the bends down here?"
"You'll have to ask the Vians." Vigor was returning to his voice. "Will I live?"
"You could still use some time in a decompression chamber. Otherwise your recovery is just about miraculous. I wish that I could take the credit for it, but Gem did most of the work."
Spock was examining the control bar he'd taken from Thann. "Captain," he said, "I noted that a circle of light preceded you at the moment you were returned here from the Vians' laboratory."
"Spock, do you have to get so analytical? At a time like this?"
"Bones, Spock is right. Continu
e, Mr. Spock."
"I conclude that such a light is an energy transfer point linking this device to the power source."
"Can you tap into it?"
"If I can determine the frequency at which this device operates I could cause it to function for us."
"And get us out of here the same way they brought us here."
"I would say so, Captain."
"Then get started, Mr. Spock."
But the organ chord that invariably heralded some new Vian mischief sounded once more. The two long-robed creatures stood just outside the circle of light that still shone down before Gem's couch.
Lal addressed Kirk. "You are called 'Captain.' You are responsible for the lives of your crew. Is this correct?"
"It is correct," Kirk said.
Thann stepped forward. "We find it necessary to have the cooperation of one of your men in our efforts."
"We will not cooperate," Kirk said.
Lal continued as though he hadn't spoken. "When we resume our interrogations, you will decide which of your men we shall use. There is an 87 percent possibility that the Doctor will die. And though Commander Spock's life is in no danger, the large probability is that he will suffer brain damage resulting in permanent insanity."
They vanished.
Still weakened by his ordeals, Kirk had centered his hopes on Thann's T-bar. He crossed to where Spock was working on it to discover its operating frequency. "How's it coming, Spock?"
"I do not know, Captain. I begin to understand the principles by which it functions—but that is all."
Responsible for the lives of his crew. Lai's definition of his function. How to fulfill it? For Bones—probable death in that laboratory. For Spock—derangement of that exquisitely precise organ of his: his mind.
McCoy joined them. "Spock, it won't be too long before those Vians come back. You'd better find out how that thing works—and soon!"
Kirk gave his own words back to him. "Easy does it, Bones. Take it easy."
"Men weren't intended to be this far underground! It's not natural!"
"And space travel is?" Kirk asked.
Without looking up from his task, Spock said, "I must disagree, Doctor. Witness the men who pass a majority of their lives in mines beneath the surface."
"I'm a doctor, not a coalminer!"
Now Spock looked up from the T-bar. "Doctor, I have recorded my theories and procedures on the tricorder. Should the Vians return, there is sufficient data for you and the Captain to complete the adjustments."
McCoy's anxiety, exploded in irritation. "I'm no mechanic! I couldn't get that thing to work no matter how many notes you left!"
"Possibly not. But you and the Captain together are capable of doing so."
"In any case, you, Spock, are the logical choice to leave with the Captain. I am the man who should go with the Vians."
Kirk intervened. "The decision is mine! If there are any decisions to be made, I'll make them!" He paused. "If and when it becomes necessary."
Gem had been listening intently. Wearily Kirk sat down on the couch beside her. The combinations of mental and physical strains had exhausted his last reserves of strength. He rested his head in his hands, shutting his eyes. A hypo hissed against his shoulder. He didn't move. "What is it, Bones? I don't need any—"
"I'm still Chief Medical Officer of the Enterprise. Would you rather have the bends? . . . Still dizzy?"
"A little."
"Lie down until the hypo takes effect. Gem, sit beside him. Watch him."
Kirk lay down, too tired to argue. As his breathing assumed the quiet regularity of sleep, McCoy nodded his satisfaction and Spock, looking up again from the control bar, said, "How long will he be asleep?"
"Between the emotional drains and that attack of the bends, he's in pretty bad shape, Spock."
"I am not criticizing your action, Doctor. On the contrary, I am grateful for it. The Captain will not be additionally strained by making so difficult a decision. You have simplified the situation considerably."
McCoy looked at him warily. "How?"
"While the Captain is asleep, it is I who am in command. When the Vians return, I shall go with them."
The appalled McCoy looked down at his hypo. "You mean if I hadn't given him that shot . . .?"
"Precisely. The choice would have been the Captain's. Now it is mine." He bent over the control bar, his face expressionless as ever. McCoy stared at him a moment. Then, returning to Kirk, he checked him over. Satisfied, he replaced the hypo in his medikit. Cursing under his breath, he gave Spock a savage glance. It was noted by Gem, who'd been taking in the argument. She rose now to move noiselessly until she was standing between Kirk and Spock. Kirk stirred restlessly, fighting the unconsciousness of the drug. Spock looked over at him, hesitated, then resumed his work. Gem went to him, touching his shoulder. He didn't look up. She withdrew the hand, looking at it. Then the shining eyes returned to Spock. In her face was a look of wondering love. She had seen past the coldly logical front Spock presented to the world to what the Vulcan officer kept carefully hidden—his love for his Captain and McCoy.
McCoy had seen the look on her face. His own changed abruptly as he came to a decision of his own. Apology in his eyes, he glanced at the impassive Spock, took out his hypo; and crossing to Kirk as though to check him, suddenly whirled—and injected Spock.
Spock stared at him in angry comprehension. "Your actions are highly unethical! My decision stands! I am in command and . . ." He slumped forward.
McCoy put a hand on his shoulder. "Not this time, Spock," he said softly.
The organ notes sounded. The Vians had returned.
McCoy spoke quickly. "The choice has been made." He extended his hand back to Gem. "You stay with my friends. They will take care of you." He turned. "Do you understand, Gem?"
She looked at him. Thann, exchanging a glance with Lal, said, "Come, then."
McCoy started toward them. Then he looked back toward the sleeping Kirk and Spock. The look was a silent farewell. Tears filled Gem's eyes. They were merciful tears. They dimmed the sight of McCoy as he followed the Vians.
The shackles were stained with Kirk's blood. The Vians had not been content with McCoy's outstretched arms or the threat of his imminent death. They had placed him so as to force his eyes to the empty test tube with his name on it.
A master of the art of suspense, Lal made a speech. "Doctor, please understand that if there were any other way to accomplish our purpose, we should employ it."
McCoy could feel the veins in his neck swelling. "Get on with it!" he told them.
They advanced on him. Thann raised a control bar.
A white-faced Kirk was prowling the arena. "Spock, why . . . why did you let him do it?"
The composed voice said, "I was convinced in the same way you were, Captain—by the good Doctor's hypo." Spock looked up, meeting Kirk's eyes. A message flashed between them. Kirk nodded slightly to their mutual recognition of McCoy's devotion. Then a dissonant chord rang from Spock's control bar. Kirk hurried to him, asking, "Anything, Spock?"
Spock leaned back, regarding the bar with admiration. Extending it to Kirk, he said, "A most unusual device. It is a control unit but not a control mechanism. It is, in fact, a mechanical device."
"What exactly is it?"
"The control is attuned to only one pattern of electrical energy—the pattern produced by the mental impulses of the person who possesses it. It is activated solely through mental commands."
"Can it be adapted or . . . or reattuned to our brain patterns?"
"I am attempting to do so." Spock paused. "However, it is not possible to adjust the control for more than one pattern at a time. As I am most familiar with my own pattern, with your permission, Captain . . ."
"Do whatever you think best to get it working. What disturbs me is why the Vians have allowed it to remain in our possession."
Spock bent again over the bar. "Understandable, sir. They must know that we are capable of c
omprehending the control and of making use of it."
"They must know we will use it to escape."
Spock nodded. "The only logical assumption is that they wish to let us go."
"While they still have McCoy?"
"It is evidently their intention, Captain."
Kirk paced the length of the arena. Turning, he looked at Gem. Then slowly he went to her. "Somehow you are the crux . . . the focal point of all this." He wheeled to Spock. "Even before we got here, she was a prisoner. Yet they haven't hurt her. They haven't even made threats."
"Indeed, Captain, the facts indicate that she is essential to their purpose."
"Yes . . . there is purpose. But what is it?"
Kirk, taking Gem's hands in his, looked intently into the sensitive face, as though it held his answer. "Gem, did those who preceded us die . . . for you? Has all this . . . this pain and terror . . . happened—or been made to happen—for you?"
Spock broke into his concentration. "Completed, Captain. The adjustments are delicate. They may not survive more than one use. Even so, there should be sufficient power to return us to the Enterprise."
"Will it take us to McCoy?"
"If you so desire, sir."
Kirk spoke briskly. "The best defense is a strong offense. And I intend to start offending!"
The circle of light still lay before Gem's couch. Kirk stepped into it. Spock followed him. Silently, Gem joined them, McCoy's medikit in her hand. She passed it to Kirk.
He looked at her, his face drawn with anxiety. "Aim for the lab," he said to Spock.
Spock stared down at the bar he held, eyes fixed in concentration. The arena vanished. They were in the lab. Kirk looked around it. Then, stunned, he saw what he had to see.
McCoy hung limply from ropes attached to the ceiling. His features were battered to a pulp. Blood dripped from his open wounds and through the remnants of his uniform.
Kirk broke out of his shocked horror. He ran to the tortured body, supporting its weight in his arms. When Spock had removed the shackles, they carried it to a table, easing it down gently. Kirk reached for a torn wrist. "The pulse is almost gone." Spock, at the head of the table, was busy with a medical tricorder.
