by James Blish
"Wood," Spock said. "Rubbing, on some kind of leather."
"They're getting ready," Gaetano muttered. "They'll attack."
"Not necessarily," Boma said. "It could be a simple tribal rite . . . assuming it's a tribal culture."
"Not a tribal culture," Spock said gently. "Their artifacts are too primitive. Merely a loose association of some sort."
"We do not know that they are mere animals. They may well be capable of reason."
"We know they're capable of killing," Boma reminded him.
Spock looked at him. "If they are protecting themselves by their own lights . . ."
"That is exactly what we would be doing!" Boma argued.
Gaetano said, "The majority of us—"
"I am not interested in the opinion of the majority, Mr. Gaetano!" It was the first time Spock had raised his voice. Now its unexpected sharpness came as a shock to all of them.
"The components must be weighed—our dangers balanced against our duty to other life forms, friendly or not." Spock paused. "There is a third course."
"It could get us all killed." But the insolence had left Gaetano.
"I think not," Spock said. "Doctor McCoy, you and Yeoman Mears will remain in the ship. Assist Mr. Scott in any way possible. We shall return shortly."
He turned to Gaetano and Boma. "You will follow my orders to the letter. You will fire only when so ordered—and at my designated targets."
"Now you're talking," said Gaetano.
"Yes, I am talking, Mr. Gaetano. And you will hear. We shall fire to frighten. Not to kill."
"If we only knew more about them," Yeoman Mears said fearfully.
"We know enough," Boma said. "If they're tribal, they'll have a sense of unity. We can use that."
"How, Mr. Boma?"
"By hitting them hard, sir. Give them a bloody nose! Make them think twice about attacking us! A good offense is the best defense!"
"I agree!" cried Gaetano. "If we just stand by and do nothing, we're just giving them an invitation to come down and slaughter us!"
Spock's face had taken on a look of grave reflection. "I am frequently appalled," he said, "by the low regard for life you Earth people have."
"We are practical about it!" Gaetano's voice shook. "I say we hit them before they hit us!"
"Mr. Boma?" Spock said.
"Absolutely."
"Doctor McCoy?"
"It seems logical to me."
"It also seems logical to me," Spock said. "But taking life indiscriminately . . ."
"You were quick enough to talk about leaving three of us behind," Gaetano said. "Why all the sudden solicitude about some kind of animal?"
"You saw what they did to Latimer," Boma said.
So it had to be put into words of one syllable. But Spock was a master of primitives' languages. "I am in command here, Mr. Gaetano. The orders are mine to give, as the responsibility is mine to take. Follow me."
He led the way to the crater wall. The grating sound grew still louder as the trip began the climb up the rocky escarpment. Gaetano, apprehensive, arranged himself third in position. Spock signaled a halt. The slope ahead of them loomed vague and indistinct through mist swirls. Suddenly, among the rocks immediately above them, there was movement. Spock heard it first. He tensed with alertness, readying his phaser. Something rose from behind the rocks, something impossibly huge. It might have been man-shaped—but he couldn't tell, for the creature held an enormous leather shield before its body. Then a great spear whistled past his head. Spock, aiming his phaser, fired it.
There was a roar, half-human—a scream of pain and fear. The thing ducked behind a rock, hurling its shield downward.
Spock sidestepped to avoid its strike. He was hoisting it up as Boma and Gaetano joined him.
Awed, Gaetano whispered, "It must be twelve feet high."
Spock dropped the shield. Still leading the way, he motioned the others forward. They made the crest of the crater. Now the scraping noise was louder still, harsh, rasping, broken by grunting sounds.
"The mists . . ." Gaetano complained. "I can't see."
"They are directly ahead of us," Spock said. "Several, I believe. You will direct your phasers to two o'clock and to ten o'clock."
"I say we hit them dead on!" Gaetano said.
Spock turned his head. "Fortunately, I am giving the orders, Mr. Gaetano. Take aim, please."
He waited. "Fire!" he said.
Whatever their targets were, they could certainly howl. Spock listened to the roaring. "Cease fire!" he said. The roaring stilled. Spock nodded, satisfied. "They should think twice before bothering us again."
"I still say we should have killed them."
"It was not necessary, Mr. Gaetano. Fear will do for us what needs to be done. Mr. Boma, return to the ship. Mr. Gaetano, you will remain here on guard, keeping visual contact with the ship."
"Out here? Alone?"
"Security must be maintained, Mr. Gaetano."
Boma said, "At least let me stay with him."
"My intention is to post you in another position, Mr. Boma."
The two exchanged terrified looks. Spock regarded them with a mild curiosity. "Gentlemen," he said, "I regret having to post you in hazardous positions. Unfortunately, I have no choice. In the event of danger, the ship must have warning."
"Even if some of us must die for it?"
"There is the possibility of danger, Mr. Boma. But it cannot be helped."
He began the climb back down to the ship. After a long moment, Boma turned to follow him. "Good luck, Gaetano," he said. .
"Yeah, sure," Gaetano said.
As they approached the Galileo, Spock said, "Mr. Boma, your post is here, near the ship." He hoisted himself through the hatch and Yeoman Mears said, "Did you find them, Mr. Spock?"
"We found them. I don't think they'll trouble us again.":
"I hope not," McCoy said. "Spock, Scott has some idea."
He clearly did. Scott's face was alight with idea. "It's dangerous, Mr. Spock—but it just may work."
"Go ahead, Mr. Scott.".
"I can adjust the main reactor to function on a substitute fuel supply." He paused, unable to resist the temptation to give full dramatic value to his idea. "Our phasers, sir. I could adapt them and use their energy. It will take time, but it's possible."
"The objection is they're our only defense," McCoy said.
"They would also seem to be our only hope." Spock made his decision fast. "Doctor . . . Yeoman, . . . your phasers, please."
"But what if those creatures attack again?'' the girl asked.
"They will not attack, not for many hours at any rate," Spock told her. "By then, with luck, we should be gone."
Scott nodded. "If I can get a full load, we’ll be able to achieve orbit with all hands. Not that we can maintain it long."
"It will not be necessary to maintain it long. In less than twenty-four hours the Enterprise will be forced to abandon its search in order to make its rendezvous. If our orbit decays after that time, it will make no difference." Spock shrugged. "Whether we die coming out of orbit or here on the surface, we shall surely die. Your phaser, Doctor."
Reluctantly McCoy and the girl surrendered their phasers. Spock passed them over to Scott.
At the same moment on the Enterprise, the Transporter officer was reporting a successful materialization to Kirk. "The crates I beamed down to Taurus II came back all right, sir. In my opinion the Transporters are now safe for human transport."
It was the first good news since they had contacted Murasaki 312. Kirk pushed his intercom button. "This is the Captain. Landing parties 1, 2, and 3. Report to Transporter Room for immediate beam-down to the planet's surface. Ordinance condition 1-A."
"Captain . . . it's a big planet," the Transporter officer said. "It'll be sheer good luck if our landing parties find anything."
"I'm counting on luck, Lieutenant. It's almost the only tool we've got that might work."
But Spock,
despite his hope that fear would restrain the hostility of the gorilla-like creatures, wasn't trusting to luck. For the third time he left the Galileo to check with Boma. "Have you seen or heard anything unusual, Mr. Boma?"
"Nothing, sir."
"Is Mr. Gaetano keeping in contact with you?"
"I saw him up in those rocks just a few minutes ago."
Something else had seen Gaetano among the rocks. It aimed a large rock at his phaser, knocking it out of his hand. Terrified, he scrambled after it—and a spear hurled past him, striking the air between him and the weapon. He ran toward a rock crevice. It ended in a blank black wall. Trapped, he turned. The crevice entrance was blocked by a massive bulk, hairy, featureless. The creature moved toward him. He screamed.
It was Spock who found the dropped phaser. As he bent to retrieve it, he heard a snuffling, half-growl, half-grunt from somewhere in the rocks ahead of him. Then there was silence. McCoy and Boma climbed up to him. He extended his hand. "Mr. Gaetano's phaser," he said.
"Look!" Boma cried.
The footprint in the rubble was human in form. Its enormity was its horror.
Boma and McCoy stared at it, unbelieving. Spock handed Gaetano's phaser to McCoy. "Take this back to Mr. Scott for conversion, please, Doctor."
Boma flared up at him. "Is that all this means to you? Just a phaser to be recovered?"
Spock stared at him, puzzled. "Explain, Mr. Boma."
The frenzied Boma broke into a shout. "Gaetano's gone! Who knows what's happened to him! And you just hand over his phaser as though nothing had happened at all!"
Spock ignored the outburst. Drawing put his own phaser, he handed it over to McCoy, saying, "And please give this to Mr. Scott in case I don't return."
"Where are you going?" McCoy demanded.
Spock said, "I have a certain . . . scientific curiosity about what has occurred to Mr. Gaetano. You will return, to the ship, if you please."
He slipped off into the mist, leaving Boma to gape after him. McCoy, shaking his head, said, "He'll risk his neck locating Gaetano. And if he finds him alive, he's just as liable to order him to stay behind when the ship leaves. You tell me."
"Do you think the ship will ever leave?"
"It won't without these phasers," McCoy said. "Let's get back to Scott."
Sharp-eyed, agile as a cat, Spock was creeping upward over rocks. Then he saw the ledge. Gaetano lay sprawled on it; unmoving. Spock bent over the body. As he realized what had been done to it, his impassive face went stony with revulsion. After a moment, he lifted it, hoisting it up and around his shoulders. The snuffling sound came again, this time from the mist-drifted rocks behind him. He looked back. Just .the rocks, the fog coiling around them. He moved on—and suddenly the scraping noise broke out, close by all around him, moving with him as he moved. Aware of it, he didn't hurry, but maintained his pace, measured, controlled. Below him now he could see the Galileo, its terrified people huddled together at the hatch, watching him.
He reached them just as a spear clanged harmlessly against the ship's hull. McCoy and Boma ran to him to help him enter the hatch. Inside, McCoy reached toward the body's lolling head. "Is he . . .?"
"Mr. Boma, secure that hatch!" Spock said. He walked swiftly toward the aft compartment. McCoy followed him and eased the body from his shoulders. Boma, up forward near the hatch window, called, "I see one out there!" Yeoman Mears, joining him, peered out the window. Shuddering, she covered her face with her hands. "Horrible . . . it's a monster . . ."
Boma, patting her shoulder, managed a wry grin. "We probably don't look so good to them, either."
Spock had gone to the forward window to look out of it. Something crashed against the hull. A great boulder tumbled past the window and rolled away to crash up against the side of the crater.
"All right, Spock," Boma said. "You have the answers. What now?"
Spock turned. "Your tone is hostile, Mr. Boma."
"My tone isn't the only thing that's hostile!"
"Strange," Spock mused. "Step by step I have done the logical thing."
McCoy blew up. "A little less analysis and a little more action! That's what we need!"
"How about analyzing what's happening to the plates of this craft?"
"The plates are titanite, Mr. Boma," Spock said. "They will hold. At least for a time."
"We have phasers. We could drive them off!"
"Mr. Boma, every ounce of energy in the phasers is needed by Mr. Scott. Were we to attack the creatures, the energy expended might well provide the very impetus required to secure our orbit."
The ship shook under another smash by a boulder—a bigger one, heavier, harder.
"How long, Mr. Scott?" Spock asked.
"Another hour. Maybe two."
"Can't you hurry it up?"
Scott raised an impatient face from his labor. "Doctor, phaser will drain only so fast."
A steady, relentless hammering had begun on the hull. Boma, looking up, saw its plates vibrating. "How long can those plates hold out under that?" he cried. "We've got to do something!"
All eyes were on Spock. He met them directly, his own calm, as composed as though theirs contained no accusation.
Kirk lacked Spock's stoic capacity to tolerate helplessness. Though the ion storm was dispersing, the Starship's slow recovery of its operational power had tightened his nerves to the breaking point. He snapped at Uhura. "Lieutenant, what word from the sensor section?"
"At last report they were beginning to get readings, but they were completely scrambled."
"I'm not interested in the last report! I want the current one!"
"Yes, sir."
Kirk slammed his fist into his palm. When the elevator door opened, he didn't turn his head. He heard Ferris clear his throat. Then he was beside him, glancing ostentatiously at his watch. "You have three hours, Captain."
"I know the number of hours I have, Commissioner."
"Delighted to hear it. However, I shall continue to remind you."
"You do that," Kirk said.
Uhura spoke. "Sir, sensor section reporting. Static interference still creating false images. Estimate 80 percent undependable."
"Radio communication?"
"Clearing slowly but still incapable of transmission and reception."
"What do you intend to do?" demanded Ferris.
Kirk's overstrained control broke. "Do? I'll keep on searching, foot by foot, inch by inch . . . by candlelight if I have to, so long as I have a second left! And if you'll keep your nose off my bridge, I'll be thankful!"
"I'm sure your diligence will please the authorities, Captain. I am not sure they will appreciate the way you address a High Commissioner."
"I am in command here!"
"You are, Captain. For exactly—" he consulted his watch—"two hours and forty-two minutes."
Spock slammed no fist into his palm. The hammering by great rocks continued to shake the Galileo—but his Vulcan heritage forbade any release of tension building up in him. Boma's panic had now taken the form of an open scorn. Nor was there the slightest sign of sympathy in the others. Never had the half-human in Spock felt so lonely. But he gave no evidence of it as he said, "Mr. Scott, how much power do we have in our central batteries?"
"They're in good shape, sir. But they won't lift us off, if that's what you're getting at."
"Are they strong enough to electrify the exterior of the ship?"
A slow grin spread over Scott's face. "That they are, laddie." Reaching for some cables, he detached them.
Spock spoke to the others. "Get into the center of the ship. Don't touch the plates. Be sure you're insulated."
They obeyed, watching as Scott clamped an electrode to a metal projection on one side of the ship's interior. He was preparing the second electrode when a ferocious smash-down resounded from over their heads. Scott nodded at Spock. "Stand by," Spock said.
The second electrode, attached, completed the circuit. Sparks flew up in a shower, followed
by a wild shrieking of pain, shock and fury from outside the craft. The hammering stopped. Scott, releasing the electrodes, said, "I don't dare use any more power if we want to be sure of ignition."
Staring up at the silent hull, McCoy said, "It worked.
"For the moment," Spock said.
"For the moment?"
"Mr. Boma, they will return when they discover they're not seriously hurt. In the meantime, please check the aft compartment. See if there's anything else we can unload to lighten the ship."
Boma came back, grim-faced. "Gaetano's body is there."
"It will have to be left behind," Spock said.
"Not without a burial!"
"I would not recommend one, Mr. Boma. The creatures won't be far away." He paused. "A burial would expose the members of this crew to unnecessary peril."
"I'll take that chance," Boma said.
Spock looked at the alien human. "Do your vestigial ceremonies mean that much to you?"
"Spock, I would insist on a decent burial even if it were your body lying back there!"
"Mr. Boma!" It was McCoy's rebuke.
Boma whirled on him. "I'm sick and tired of this Vulcan machine!"
Scott had reddened with anger. "That's enough from you! Mr. Spock is a ranking Commander of the service!"
The ranking Commander spoke quietly. "You shall have your burial, Mr. Boma . . . if our friends permit it." McCoy, still smarting in Spock's behalf, moved over to him.
Landing party Two had beamed back to the Enterprise from Taurus II with casualties—one crewman dead, two wounded.
"Lieutenant Kelowitz, what happened?"
Kirk had activated the computer screen at Spock's station. Now it held the smudged, scratched image of the landing party's leader. Kirk could see that his uniform was torn.
"We were attacked, sir. Huge, furry creatures. I checked with astral anthropology. Order 480G, anthropoid, similar to life forms discovered on Hansen's planet—but much larger. Ten, twelve feet in height . . ."
"Your casualties?"
"Ensign O'Neill was speared even before we knew they were around. Crewman Immamura has a dislocated shoulder and severe lacerations, but he'll make it all right." The tired eyes on the screen were lost momentarily to horrified recollection of the monster anthropoids. "Captain, they're all over the place. If the Galileo is down on that planet . . ."
