Star Trek - Blish, James - 01

by 01(lit)

  "It may be," Kirk whispered; that was all the voice he could muster. "Mr. Spock, do you think you can still read the data to Farrell?"

  "I'll try, sir."

  Farrell was astonished and relieved, and demanded explanations. Spock cut him short and read him the figures. Then there was nothing to do but wait while the material was processed. Kirk went back to looking at McCoy, and Miri joined him. He realized dimly that, for all the trouble she had caused, her decision to bring the communicators back had been a giant step toward growing up. It would be a shame to lose her now, Miri most of all in the springtime of her promise-a spring-time for which she had waited three sordid centuries. He put his arm around her, and she looked up at him grate-fully.

  Was it another failure of vision, or were the blotches on McCoy fading a little? No, some of them were defi-nitely smaller and had lost color. "Mr. Spock," he said, "come here and check me on something."

  Spock looked and nodded. "Retreating," he said. "Now if there are no serious side-effects-" The buzz of his communicator interrupted him. "Spock here."

  "Farrell to landing party. The identification is correct, repeat, correct. Congratulations. Do you mean to tell me you boiled down all that mass of bits and pieces with nothing but a bio-comp?"

  Kirk and Spock exchanged tired grins. "No," Spock said, "we did it all in Doctor McCoy's head. Over and out."

  "The bio-comp did help," Kirk said. He reached out and patted the squat machine. "Nice kitty."

  McCoy stirred. He was trying to sit up, his expression dazed.

  "Begging your pardon, Doctor," Kirk said. "If you've rested sufficently, I believe the administration of injec-tions is your department."

  "It worked?" McCoy said huskily.

  "It worked fine, the ship's computer says it's the right stuff, and you are the hero of the hour, you pig-headed idiot."

  They left the system a week later, having given all the antitoxoid the ship's resources could produce. Together with Farrell, the erstwhile landing party stood on the bridge of the Enterprise, watching the planet retreat.

  "I'm still a little uneasy about it," Janice Rand said. "No matter how old they are chronologically, they're still just children. And to leave them there with just a medical team to help them-"

  "They haven't lived all those years for nothing," Kirk said. "Look at the difficult thing Miri did. They'll catch on fast, with only a minimum of guidance. Besides, I've already had Lieutenant Uhura get the word back to Earth... If that planet had had subspace radio, they would have been saved a lot of their agony. But it hadn't been invented when the original colonists left... Space Central will send teachers, technicians, administrators-"

  "-And truant officers, I presume," McCoy said.

  "No doubt. The kids will be all right."

  Janice Rand said slowly: "Miri... she... really loved you, you know, Captain. That was why she played that trick on you."

  "I know," Kirk said. "And I'm duly flattered. But I'll tell you a secret, Yeoman Rand. I make it a policy never to get involved with women older than I am."

  The Conscience of the King

  "A curious experience," Kirk said. "I've seen Macbeth in everything from bearskins to uniforms, but never be-fore in Arcturian dress. I suppose an actor has to adapt to all kinds of audiences."

  "This one has," Dr. Leighton said. He exchanged a glance with Martha Leighton; there was an undertone in his voice which Kirk could not fathom. There seemed to be no reason for it. The Leightons' garden, under the bright sun of the Arcturian system, was warm and plea-sant; their hospitality, including last night's play, had been unexceptionable. But time was passing, and old friends or no, Kirk had to be back on duty shortly.

  "Karidian has an enormous reputation," he said, "and obviously he's earned it. But now, Tom, we'd better get down to business. I've been told this new synthetic of yours is something we badly need."

  "There is no synthetic," Leighton said heavily. "I want you to think about Karidian. About his voice in particular. You should remember it; you were there."

  "I was where?" Kirk said, annoyed. "At the play?"

  "No," Leighton said, his crippled, hunched body stiring restlessly in its lounger. "On Tarsus IV, during the Rebellion. Of course it was twenty years ago, but you couldn't have forgotten. My family murdered-and your friends. And you saw Kodos-and heard him, too."

  "Do you mean to tell me," Kirk said slowly, "that you called me three light-years off my course just to accuse an actor of being Kodos the Executioner? What am I supposed to put in my log? That you lied? That you di-verted a starship with false information?"

  "It's not false. Karidian is Kodos."

  "That's not what I'm talking about. I'm talking about your invented story about the synthetic food process. Anyhow, Kodos is dead."

  "Is he?" Leighton said. "A body burned beyond rec-ognition-what kind of evidence is that? And there are so few witnesses left, Jim: you, and I, and perhaps six or seven others, people who actually saw Kodos and heard his voice. You may have forgotten, but I never will."

  Kirk turned to Martha, but she said gently: "I can't tell him anything, Jim. Once he heard Karidian's voice, it all came back. I can hardly blame him. From all ac-counts, that was a bloody business... and Tom wasn't just a witness. He was a victim."

  "No, I know that," Kirk said. "But vengeance won't help, either-and I can't allow the whole Enterprise to be sidetracked on a personal vendetta, no matter how I feel about it."

  "And what about justice?" Leighton said. "If Kodos is still alive, oughtn't he to pay? Or at least be taken out of circulation-before he contrives another massacre? Four thousand people, Jim!"

  "You have a point," Kirk admitted reluctantly. "All right, I'll go this far: Let me check the ship's library computer and see what we have on both men. If your notion's just a wild hare, that's probably the quickest way to find out. If it isn't-well, I'll listen further."

  "Fair enough," Leighton said.

  Kirk pulled out his communicator and called the Enterprise. "Library computer... Give me everything you have on a man named or known as Kodos the Executioner. After that, a check on an actor named Anton Karidian."

  "Working," the computer's voice said. Then: "Kodos the Executioner. Deputy Commander, forces of Rebellion, Tarsus IV, twenty terrestrial years ago. Popula-tion of eight thousand Earth colonists struck by famine after fungus blight largely destroyed food supply. Kodos used situation to implement private theories of eugenics, slaughtered fifty per cent of colony population. Sought by Earth forces when rebellion overcome. Burned body found and case closed. Biographical data-"

  "Skip that," Kirk said. "Go on."

  "Karidian, Anton. Director and leading man of traveling company of actors, sponsored by Interstellar Cultural Exchange project. Touring official installations for past nine years. Daughter, Lenore, nineteen years old, now leading lady of troupe. Karidian a recluse, has given notice current tour is to be his last. Credits--"

  "Skip that too. Data on his pre-acting years?"

  "None available. That is total information." Kirk put the communicator away slowly. "Well, well," he said. "I still think it's probably a wild hare, Tom... but I think I'd better go to tonight's performance, too."

  After the performance, Kirk went backstage, which was dingy and traditional, and knocked on the door with the star on it. In a moment, Lenore Karidian opened it, still beautiful, though not as bizarre as she had looked as an Arcturian Lady Macbeth. She raised her eyebrows.

  "I saw your performance tonight," Kirk said. "And last night, too. I just want to... extend my appreciation to you and to Karidian."

  "Thank you," she said, politely. "My father will be delighted, Mr....?"

  "Capt. James Kirk, the starship Enterprise."

  That told, he could tell; that and the fact that he had seen the show two nights running. She said: "We're honored. I'll carry your message to father."

  "Can't I see him personally?"

  "I'm sorry, Captain Kirk. He sees no o
ne personally."

  "An actor turning away his admirers? That's very unusual."

  "Karidian is an unusual man."

  "Then I'll talk with Lady Macbeth," Kirk said. "If you've no objections. May I come in?"

  "Why... of course." She moved out of the way. In-side, the dressing room was a clutter of theatrical trunks, all packed and ready to be moved. "I'm sorry I have nothing to offer you."

  Kirk stared directly at her, smiling. "You're being unnecessarily modest."

  She smiled back. "As you see, everything is packed. Next we play two performances on Benecia, if the Astral Queen can get us there; we leave tonight."

  "She's a good ship," Kirk said. "Do you enjoy your work?"

  "Mostly. But, to play the classics, in these times, when most people prefer absurd three-V serials... it isn't always as rewarding as it could be."

  "But you continue," Kirk said.

  "Oh yes," she said, with what seemed to be a trace of bitterness. "My father feels that we owe it to the public. Not that the public cares."

  "They cared tonight. You were very convincing as Lady Macbeth."

  "Thank you. And as Lenore Karidian?"

  "I'm impressed." He paused an instant. "I think I'd like to see you again."

  "Professionally?"

  "Not necessarily."

  "I... think I'd like that. Unfortunately, we must keep to our schedule."

  "Schedules aren't always as rigid as they seem," Kirk said. "Shall we see what happens?"

  "Very well. And hope for the best."

  The response was promising, if ambiguous, but Kirk had no chance to explore it further. Suddenly his com-municator was beeping insistently.

  "Excuse me," he said. "That's my ship calling... Kirk here."

  "Spock calling, Captain. Something I felt you should know immediately. Dr. Leighton is dead."

  "Dead? Are you sure?"

  "Absolutely," Spock's voice said. "We just had word from Q Central. He was murdered-stabbed to death."

  Slowly, Kirk put the device back in his hip pocket. Lenore was watching him. Her face showed nothing but grave sympathy.

  "I'll have to go," he said. "Perhaps you'll hear from me later."

  "I quite understand. I hope so."

  Kirk went directly to the Leightons' apartment. The body was still there, unattended except by Martha, but it told him nothing; he was not an expert in such matters. He took Martha's hand gently.

  "He really died the first day those players arrived," she said, very quietly. "Memory killed him. Jim... do you suppose survivors ever really recover from a trag-edy?"

  "I'm deeply sorry, Martha."

  "He was convinced the moment we saw that man arrive," she said. "Twenty years since the terror, but he was sure Karidian was the man. Is that possible, Jim? Is he Kodos, after all?"

  "I don't know. But I'm trying to find out."

  "Twenty years and he still had nightmares. I'd wake him and he'd tell me he still heard the screams of the innocent-the silence of the. executed. They never told him what happened to the rest of his family."

  "I'm afraid there's not much doubt about that," Kirk said.

  "It's the not knowing, Jim-whether the people you love are dead or alive. When you know, you mourn, but the wound heals and you go on. When you don't--every dawn is a funeral. That's what killed my husband, Jim, not the knife... But with him, I know."

  She managed a small smile and Kirk squeezed her hand convulsively. "It's all right," she said, as if she were the one who had to do the comforting. "At least he has peace now. He never really had it before. I suppose we'll never know who killed him."

  "I," Kirk said, "am damn well going to find out."

  "It doesn't matter. I've had enough of all this passion for vengeance. It's time to let it all rest. More than time." Suddenly the tears welled up. "But I shan't forget him. Never."

  Kirk stomped aboard ship in so obvious a white fury that nobody dared even to speak to him. Going directly to his quarters, he barked into the intercom: "Uhura!"

  "Yes, Captain," the Communications Officer responded, her normally firm voice softened almost to a squeak.

  "Put me through to Captain Daly, the Astral Queen, on orbit station. And put it on scramble."

  "Yes, sir... He's on, sir."

  "John, this is Jim Kirk. Can you do me a little favor?"

  "I owe you a dozen," Daly's voice said. "And two dozen drinks, too. Name your poison."

  "Thanks. I want you to pass up your pickup here."

  "You mean strand all them actors?"

  "Just that," Kirk said. "I'll take them on. And if there's any trouble, the responsibility is mine."

  "Will do."

  "I appreciate it. I'll explain later-I hope. Over and out... Lieutenant Uhura, now I want the library com-puter."

  "Library."

  "Reference the Kodos file. I'm told there were eight or nine survivors of the massacre who were actual eyewit-nesses. I want their names and status."

  "Working... In order of age: Leighton, T., deceased. Molson, E., deceased-"

  "Wait a minute, I want survivors."

  "These were survivors of the massacre," the computer said primly. "The deceased are all recent murder vic-tims, all cases open. Instructions."

  Kirk swallowed. "Continue."

  "Kirk, J., Captain, S.S. Enterprise. Wiegand, R., de-ceased. Eames, S., deceased. Daiken, R. Communications, S.S. Enterprise-"

  "What!"

  "Daiken, R., Communications, Enterprise, five years old at time of Kodos incident."

  "All right, cut," Kirk said. "Uhura, get me Mr. Spock... Mr. Spock, arrange for a pickup for the Karidian troupe, to be recorded in the log as stranded, for trans-fer to their destination; company to present special performance for officers and crew. Next destination to be Eta Benecia; give me arrival time as soon as it's processed."

  "Aye, aye, sir. What about the synthetic food samples we were supposed to pick up from Dr. Leighton?"

  "There aren't any, Mr. Spock," Kirk said shortly.

  "That fact will have to be noted, too. Diverting a starship-"

  "Is a serious business. Well, a black mark against Dr. Leighton isn't going to hurt him now. One more thing, Mr. Spock. I want the privacy of the Karidian company totally respected. They can have the freedom of the ship within the limits of regulations, but their quarters are off limits. Pass it on to all hands."

  "Yes, sir." There was no emotion in Spock's voice; but then, there never was.

  "Finally, Mr. Spock, reference Lt. Robert Daiken, in Communications. Please have him transferred to Engineering."

  "Sir," Spock said, "he came up from Engineering."

  "I'm aware of that. I'm sending him back. He needs more experience."

  "Sir, may I suggest a further explanation? He's bound to consider this transfer a disciplinary action."

  "I can't help that," Kirk said curtly. "Execute. And notify me when the Karidians come aboard."

  He paused and looked up at the ceiling, at last unable to resist a rather grim smile. "I think," he said, "I shall be taking the young lady on a guided tour of the ship."

  There was quite a long silence. Then Spock said neu-trally:

  "As you wish, sir."

  At this hour, the engine room was empty, and silent except for the low throbbing of the great thrust units; the Enterprise was driving. Lenore looked around, and then smiled at Kirk.

  "Did you order the soft lights especially for the occa-sion?" she said.

  "I'd like to be able to say yes," Kirk said. "However, we try to duplicate conditions of night and day as much as possible. Human beings have a built-in diurnal rhythm; we try to adjust to it." He gestured at the hulking driv-ers. "You find this interesting?"

  "Oh yes... All that power, and all under such com-plete control. Are you like that, Captain?"

  "I hope I'm more of a man than a machine," he said.

  "An intriguing combination of both. The power's at your command; but the decisions-"
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  "-come from a very human source."

  "Are you sure?" she said. "Exceptional, yes; but human?"

  Kirk said softly, "You can count on it."

  There was a sound of footsteps behind them. Kirk turned reluctantly. It was Yeoman Rand, looking in this light peculiarly soft and blonde despite her uniform- and despite a rather severe expression. She held out an envelope.