by James Blish
Jaris had recovered control of himself. "Mr. Hengist, the authority is mine," he said firmly. "And this decision, too, is mine." He looked at Kirk. "Captain, as you know, Mr. Scott has claimed to remember nothing about the murders. He may have killed without knowing he killed. Can your machines penetrate to the truth of his actions?"
"They will so correlate the facts that a positive conclusion is reached," Kirk said. "No doubts will remain."
Jaris rose. "Very well. We shall go to your ship."
He walked over to Scott, his step steady. "If you are guilty," he said, "you will face the ancient penalties, barbaric though they may be. I warn you that the ancient penalty for murder was death by slow torture. That law has never been changed. Do you understand, Mr. Scott?" .
Scott moistened his dry lips. But he faced Jaris unflinchingly. "Aye, sir. I understand."
The Briefing Room of the Enterprise was crowded. The Argelian guests, including Tark and Morla, had been seated on one side of its table. On the other side, a pretty yeoman, Tancris, sat between Scott and McCoy, prepared to record the proceedings. Kirk with Spock stood near the computer controls.
Kirk addressed his guests. "Deep in the heart of this ship are our computer banks. They operate the entire ship. They also contain the whole of human and humanoid knowledge. They are indisputably reliable. Our lives depend on them."
He turned to Spock. "Anything to add, Mr. Spock?"
"In a matter of a few seconds," Spock said, "we can obtain an answer to any factual question, regardless of its complexity."
"You don't solve a murder with columns of figures!" Hengist said.
"No, sir. But we do determine the truth."
"How?" asked Morla. "That machine can't tell what goes on in a man's mind!"
Kirk pointed to the computer's verifier. "No. But this piece of equipment can—to an extent." He pulled out a chair. "Each testifier will sit here, his hand on this plate. Any deviation from factual truth will be immediately detected. It will then be relayed to the computer which will notify us."
Hengist stirred in his chair. Kirk continued. "Doctor McCoy has already fed his medical reports into the computer. Our laboratory experts are now examining the murder weapon. They will give their findings to the computer for its analysis. Mr. Scott, will you please take the stand?"
Scott rose, moved to the verifier, sat down and laid his hand on the plate. Kirk activated the computer control.
"Computer," he said. "Identify and verify."
The mechanism clicked. And the computer voice spoke. "Working. Lieutenant Commander Montgomery Scott, serial number SE 197547230T. Verified."
"Subject's present physical condition?" Kirk said.
"Working. Subject recently subjected to severe blow on skull. Damage healing. Some peripheral abnormalities."
"Sufficient abnormalities to cause periods of functional amnesia?"
"Working," responded the computer. "Negative."
Puzzled, McCoy intervened. "I don't see how that can be, Jim."
"It can be if Scotty is lying about his loss of memory," Kirk said.
"I'm not lying, Captain!" Scott cried. "I don't remember a thing about the first two murders!"
"Computer. Accuracy scan," said Kirk.
"Subject relaying accurate account. No physiological changes."
Scott, his hand still on the plate, half rose from the chair. "Captain, I never said I blacked out when the Prefect's wife was killed!"
"All right, Scott. Go ahead. What do you remember about it?"
"We were all holding hands. The room was dark, the light from the altar was so dim. I heard the poor lady scream. I tried to reach her—but something was between us."
"Something?" Kirk questioned. "You mean someone?"
"No, sir. Some—thing. Cold—it was cold like a stinking draft out of a slaughterhouse. But—it wasn't really there like—" He stopped, adding lamely, "If you get what I mean."
"Computer?" Kirk said.
"Subject relaying accurate account. No physiological changes."
"All right," said Kirk. "I'm putting it straight. Scott, did you kill Sybo?"
"No," sir. That I'm sure of."
Hengist grunted. "He's been saying that all along. It means no more now than it did before."
Kirk eyed him. "Scotty!" he said. "Lie to me! How old are you?"
"Twenty-two, Captain."
A buzzer sounded. The touch panel blinked a light on and off. And the computer voice said, "Inaccurate. Inaccurate. Data in error."
"Scott, when the lights went out, who was holding your hand?"
"Morla on the one side, sir—you on the other."
Morla, his face pale, got to his feet. "But that doesn't mean anything, Captain. A small room like that—it was dark—anyone of us would have had time to kill the lady."
Hengist was quick to object. "I remind everyone we found Mr. Scott holding her in his arms. The knife was still in her back. And there was blood on his hands."
"That is so," Kirk said. "But the verifier has shown it will accept no lie."
"Two other women were murdered," Hengist challenged.
"Mr. Scott," Kirk said, "did you kill Kara?"
"I don't remember."
"Did you kill Lieutenant Tracy?"
"I can't remember."
"Computer," Kirk said. "Accuracy scan."
"Subject relaying accurate account. No physiological changes."
"All this proves," Jaris said, "is that he's telling the truth about the memory lapses."
"It's a waste of our time!" Hengist exclaimed.
Kirk said, "Mr. Hengist, after this testimony is taken, we will run a psychotricorder analysis of Mr. Scott's memory. That's what Lieutenant Tracy was trying to do. This time we'll do it. We shall have a complete record of the action he took, remembered or forgotten. Will that satisfy you?"
"If you can convince me that the machine is incapable of error. If it shows that he did not kill the women."
"The machine does not err. As to the rest of it, the readings will reveal that. I think you can stand down, Mr. Scott—if there are no objections."
"I object to this entire procedure!" Hengist shouted.
Mildly, Jaris turned to him. "Mr. Hengist, we are here on my authority."
"Prefect, I know you mean well—but I have had past experience in matters of this kind while you . . ."
"Enough, sir," Jaris stopped him short. "For the present we will accept Captain Kirk's trust of the machine's accuracy. At the same time we'll reserve the right to make the final determination ourselves."
"That's all we ask, Prefect," Kirk said. "Mr. Morla, will you take the stand?"
Morla took it, placing his hand nervously on the touch plate, and Kirk said, "Where were you at the time Kara was murdered?"
"I—I'm not sure. Walking home, I think. I was disturbed." He looked at Kirk. "I told you I felt anger."
"Anger is a relative state, Mr. Morla," interposed Spock. "Were you angry enough to do violence?"
"I have never done violence in my life. I am an Argelian. I do not believe I am capable of violence." His voice shook. "Believe me, I couldn't kill her! She loved me!"
Tark jumped to his feet. "That is not true! She did not love him! She told me. He was jealous! They fought constantly!" Tears in his eyes, he turned to Jaris. "My daughter was a true Argelian. A child of joy . . ."
"Yes, I was jealous!" Morla was on his feet, too. "I admit it! But I did not kill her! I wanted to leave Argelius with her—go somewhere to have her all to myself. I loved her!"
"Did you kill Lieutenant Tracy?" Kirk asked.
"No!"
"Did you kill Sybo?"
"No!"
"Computer—verification scan," Kirk said.
"Subject relaying accurate account. Some statements subjective. No physiological changes."
"That would seem to be it," Kirk said. "You can stand down, Mr. Morla."
"He glanced around the faces at the table. After a long moment,
he said slowly, "Sybo spoke of a consuming hunger that never dies—of something that thrives on terror, on death." He looked at Spock. "Maybe we're going about this the wrong way. Let's assume that Sybo was a sensitive—that she did sense something evil in that room . . ."
"The sensitivity of certain Argelian women is a documented fact, Captain," Spock said.
"My—dear wife's talent," said Jaris, "was genuine, gentlemen. The things she said were true."
"All right, then," said Kirk. "Exactly what was it she said? A monstrous evil—out of the past—hatred of life, of woman . . ."
"A lust for death," supplemented McCoy.
"She made some other references that didn't make sense," Kirk said.
"I remember them," McCoy told him. "Redjac. Boratis. Kesla."
Kirk shook his head. "Obscure. Meaningless."
"To us, perhaps, Captain," Spock said. "But to the computer banks . . ."
"Check them out, Mr. Spock."
"Computer, linguistic banks," Spock said. "Definition of following word—redjac."
The computer buzzed. "Working. Negative finding."
"There's no such word in the linguistic bank?"
"Affirmative."
"Scan all other banks," Spock said.
"Working. Affirmative. A proper name."
"Define," Spock said.
"Working. Red Jack. Source: Earth, nineteenth century. Language: English. Nickname applied to mass murderer of women. Other Earth synonym: Jack the Ripper."
A silence composed of shock, hope and incredulity fell over the listeners.
"That's ridiculous!" Hengist yelled. He leaped to his feet. "Jack the Ripper lived hundreds of years ago!"
Kirk said, "Computer. Factual data and capsulization on Jack the Ripper."
"Working. Jack the Ripper: First appearance, London, ancient British Empire, Earth, year 1888, old calendar. Brutal killer of at least six women by knife or surgical instrument; no witnesses to crimes; no identification or arrest. Crimes remain unsolved. No known motive."
"Senseless crimes," McCoy said reflectively.
"As senseless as the murder of Kara—or Lieutenant Tracy," said Kirk.
Tark looked from one to the other. "It can't be. A man could not survive all these centuries."
"My wife," Jaris said. "My wife—before she died—it is a deathless hunger, she said."
"But all men die!" protested Tark.
"All men die, sir," Spock said. "But humans and humanoids comprise only, a small percent of the life forms we know of. There exist entities possessed of extremely long lifespans, virtually immortal."
"But—a being which feeds on death?" McCoy shook his head.
"In the strict scientific sense, Doctor, we all live on death—even vegetarians."
"But Sybo said it feeds on terror!"
"Deriving sustenance from emotion is not unknown—and fear is among the strongest and most intense of the emotions."
Hengist's eyes lingered on Spock's quiet face. Then he swung around to Jaris. "Prefect, this has gone far enough! Someone, some man has killed three women. We have the prime suspect in our hands! Are we going to let him go to chase down ghosts?"
"Not ghosts, Mr. Hengist," Kirk said. "Possibly not human—but not a ghost. Mr. Spock, run a check on the possibilities."
"Computer. Digest log recordings of past five solar minutes. Correlate hypotheses. Compare with life forms register. Question: could such an entity within discussed limits, exist in this galaxy?"
"Affirmative. Examples exist. The Drella of Alpha Carinae V derives its sustenance from the emotion of love. There exists sufficient precedent for existence of creature, nature unknown, which could exist on emotion of terror."
"Extrapolate most likely composition of such entity," Spock said.
"Working. To meet specified requirements, entity would exist without form in conventional sense. Most probable: mass of energy, highly cohesive."
Kirk took over. "Computer, in such form, could the entity kill with a knife?"
"Negative."
"Could the entity described assume physical form?"
"Affirmative. Precedent: the Mellitus, cloud creature of Alpha Majoris 1."
"Fairy tales!" Hengist was acid with scorn. "Ghosts and goblins!"
Kirk was getting his fill of Hengist. "No, sir," he said. "I've seen the Mellitus myself. Its normal state is gaseous but at rest it becomes solid." He turned back to Spock. "Let's assume the existence of this creature able to take on form or reject it at will. That could explain Scotty's failure to remember anything about the first two murders."
Spock nodded. "Or by production of a hypnotic screen blinding all but the victim to the killer's presence."
Awed, Jaris murmured, "Is that possible?"
"Very possible," McCoy told him. "Even probable. Many examples exist in nature."
"But I don't hypnotize easily," Scott interjected.
"We're not talking about a human hypnotist, Scotty," Kirk reminded him.
Hengist, openly furious, rose again from the table. "This is fantasy! We all know the murderer is sitting right here with us! You're trying to muddy the issue. I've got a mind to stop this right now!"
"Kindly be seated, Mr. Hengist." Jaris sounded unusually stern. "The course of this investigation seems valid to me."
Conscious of the glaring Hengist behind him, Kirk said, "What do we have then, Mr. Spock? A creature without stable form that feeds on fear, assuming physical shape to do its killing?"
"And preys on women because they are more easily terrorized than the male of the species."
Kirk hit the computer button. "Computer, criminological files. Cases of unsolved multiple murders of women since Jack the Ripper."
"Working. 1932. Shanghai, China, Earth. Seven women knifed to death. 1974. Kiev, USSR, Earth. Five women knifed to death. 2005. Martian Colonies. Eight women knifed to death. Heliopolis, Alpha Proximi II. Ten women knifed to death. There are additional examples."
"Captain," Spock said, "all those places are aligned directly between Argelius and Earth."
"Yes. When men of Earth moved into the galaxy, this thing must have moved with them." He addressed the computer. "Identify the proper names Kesla and Boratis."
"Working. Kesla: popular name of unidentified mass murderer of women on planet Deneb II. Boratis: popular name of unidentified mass murderer of women on planet Rigel IV. Additional data. Murders on Rigel IV occurred one solar year ago."
McCoy turned from the table to look at Kirk. Kirk, nodding, spoke to Hengist. "You came to Argelius from Rigel IV," he said.
"Many people do," Hengist countered. "It's not a crime."
"No. But we are investigating one. Please take the stand, Mr. Hengist."
Hengist leaned back in his chair. "I refuse," he said.
"Mr. Hengist!"
The jaw in the pudgy face had set hard. "Prefect, I will not take the stand."
"I see your point, sir," Spock said. "If you are the entity we search for, what better hiding place could you find than the official position you hold?"
McCoy was on his feet. "And just after you left Jaris's house, we discovered the murder weapon was missing!"
Kirk pressed on. "You were unaccounted for when Lieutenant Tracy was murdered."
A nerve under Hengist's eye twitched. "The law is my business!" His voice roughened. "You are engaged in sheer speculation for your own illegal ends!"
Kirk was not deferred. "Mr. Spock—the weapon."
"Computer," Spock said. "Report on analysis of Exhibit A."
"Working. Exhibit A on visual."
The mechanism's triscreen flashed into brightness. As the image of the knife appeared on it, its voice said, "Composition of blade: boridium. Composition of handle: murinite. Details of handle carving conform to folk art indicating place of origin."
"Specify place of origin," Spock said.
"Artifact produced by hill people of Argus River region, planet Rigel IV."
"Mr. Hengist
—" Kirk began.
But Hengist had made a break for the door. Scott tripped him—and Kirk closed with him. There was unexpected muscle in the pudgy body. Screaming wildly, Hengist aimed a knee at Kirk's groin. Elbowing up, Kirk swung a fist back and landed a hard right to his jaw. Hengist collapsed. The lights went dim; and at the same moment the room was filled with that rushing sound like the flapping of great wings.
Kirk got to his feet. McCoy, looking up from Hengist's body, said tonelessly, "He's dead, Jim."
"Dead? But that's impossible! A man doesn't die of a sock on the jaw!"
The computer crackled. Then the noise subsided. A maniacal laughter burst from its speakers. They chuckled, choking with obscene merriment—and Hengist's voice shrieked, "Red Jack! Red Jack! Red Jack!"
The cackling mirth grew into an insane howl of triumph. Kirk, astounded, stared at Spock. The Vulcan leaped to the computer buttons. But the mad howls of laughter would not be stilled.
"The computer isn't responding, Captain! The entity has taken possession of it!"
"But the computer controls the ship!" Kirk cried. "Are you saying that this thing is in possession of the ship?"
He himself began to wrestle with the computer controls. Spock tried to move the switch that fed into its bypass circuits. It swung loose. "It's no use, Captain! The bypass circuits have been blocked, too!"
The crazy laughter gushed louder from the speakers. "Red Jack!" it screamed again.
"Audio cutoff, Mr. Spock!"
The room was suddenly quiet. But Scott, jumping to his feet, yelled, "The screen, Captain! Look at the screen!"
Kirk whirled. The viewer was a riot of changing colors. Figures began to emerge from them. Serpents writhed through pentagons. Naked women, hair streaming behind them, rode astride the shaggy backs of goats. Horned beasts pranced with toads. Rivers boiled, steaming. Above them, embraced bodies drifted down fiery winds. Human shoulders, pinioned under rocks, lifted pleading arms. Then the red glow, shedding its bloody mist over the screen, gave way to the deathly whiteness of a cold, unending snow. Up from the glacial landscape rose a towering three headed shape, its mouths agape with gusts of silent laughter. A cross, upturned, appeared beside it. The shape crawled up it, suspending itself upon it in an unspeakable travesty of the crucifixion. Its vast, leathery wings unfolded . . .
