“Pike to Number One.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Can you track them on the planet surface?”
“We can detect the movement of life forms, sir. Unfortunately, the ones we perceive to be Lieutenant Spock and Lieutenant Reed are fairly close to others. We believe they may be mutants. If they commingle, we will not be able to tell one from the other.”
“Stay on it, Number One. I’ll be on the bridge in two minutes.”
Chapter Thirteen
THE AREA SPOCK BEAMED INTO was rocky, lightly feathered with low-growing brush and a heavier line of trees. He immediately recognized it as the lower slopes of the Druncara Range. He could not place his position more exactly than that, but he was certain Reed could not know any more about the area, either. The desert was behind him; he judged Reed knew better than to go in that direction. Therefore, the only logical conclusion was that Reed had climbed up, deeper into the Range. He set off up the slope, his mind churning over the information he knew, trying to match it up to Reed’s possible motives.
T’Dess Alar-ken-dasmin was listed in the Starfleet records as having been a house servant before her marriage. Simply put, she had begun her life on Earth as a menial. This was an intelligent woman who had been trained to manage a wealthy household, entertain for a socially prominent husband, and undoubtedly carry on a separate career of her own. Her [237] knowledge, her bearing, and quite probably her beauty would have appealed to old Sanford Lynch. Marriage to Lynch would have given T’Dess back much of what she was born for, only not on her own planet. Not in the eyes of the high houses, especially her own. The kahs-wan taught Vulcans to survive when put to the test, and obviously T’Dess had done that. Spock could guess the bitterness that had lived in her. T’Dess would have had the training and the knowledge of history and tradition of all high-born Vulcan women, and she would have passed it down to her daughter, then to her grandson and great-grandson. But she also would have passed on the hate that she lived with.
Spock had just passed a tumble of boulders when a phaser set on kill blistered the air beside him. He instantly dived aside, rolled, and came up in the shelter of the rocks. “Reed!” he shouted.
“Give it up, Spock. I’ll kill you, too.”
“I cannot. If it is not me, it will be security beaming down. They will find you, even if you kill me. You have no hope of escaping.” There was no reply to that, but Spock’s sharp sense of hearing did not detect any sound of the man moving away. “Reed?”
“What?”
“Answers. I need to know.”
“Curiosity killed the cat, Spock. Ever heard that one?”
“I am alive, Reed. I want answers. Why did you do it? For your great grandmother’s honor? Yours? Why?”
There was a moment’s pause, then Reed’s voice drifted to him, quietly and almost dreamy, as though Reed were reflecting on it all. “She didn’t hate Vulcan, [238] you see, only the family that had abandoned her. In those days, Vulcan women were taught the same martial arts as men, not the way they’re coddled now.” He snorted derisively. “T’Pris was soft, and she died.”
“You bastard,” Spock hissed. He held himself from leaping toward Reed’s hiding place only by great effort of will.
“As it happens, Spock, that’s one charge I don’t answer to. All my ancestors were legally married. I’m one-eighth Vulcan, completely Vulcan in my training and loyalty, but T’Dess’s clan would never accept me as family.”
“Your human blood never made you a criminal. What drove you to steal the Glory? To murder?”
There was a long silence, and then Reed’s voice came down to him coldly, sardonically. “It’s so simple, Spock. It’s the Glory and my great-grandmother’s house and their so-called honor.”
Spock shook his head, nonplussed. “I do not understand the connection.”
“You and your precious computers and all their information. Don’t they have the information that my great-grandmother’s patriarchal clan was the Archenida?” Spock’s face changed with a sudden understanding, and it was almost as though Reed could see him. “Yes, the so-called protectors of the Glory.”
“Again, I do not understand your reference. The so-called protectors?”
“You don’t know, do you, Spock? No one does, and that’s why I did it. The Archenida’s proud clan [239] heritage as the keepers and defenders of the Glory is a lie. T’Dess knew the secret, and each of her descendants has been told the truth about the Archenida and the Glory.”
“We found them on Areta. The last keeper of the stone was of clan Archenida, laying down his life to protect it.”
“Really? That’s what they’d like to have all Vulcan believe. The fine and loyal protectors of the Glory were afraid to allow it to be exposed to the public. Someone might have designs on it. So they paraded a beautifully duplicated glass replica in all those ceremonials and show-the-flag missions. That was the stone that was lost, Spock. They still have the real gemstone on Vulcan, but they can never admit it. All their bravery in protecting the Glory, the loss they suffered when the ship and the Glory went missing—all that was bound up in a lie, Spock. A lie they could never reveal. They are the thieves of the Glory; they hold it still. But T’Dess knew the secret as a daughter of the house. She passed it on to her daughter and grandson and to me. She’s still alive, you know.”
Spock began inching his way around the huge tumble of boulders. If he could keep Reed talking, he might be able to distract him from the fact that Spock was circling around, trying to get behind him. “So when we found the Glory, you saw it as a golden opportunity for revenge.”
“Meadows was easy. I told you that. He wanted to examine the Glory and was willing to lie to do it. I didn’t know how I would get my hands on the stone before that, but he handed me the perfect [240] opportunity. He took the Glory; he even signed for it. The security vault post is isolated, a dull duty, never checked by a superior officer. As soon as the corridors were clear, I followed Meadows to the lab where he was working on analyzing the stone. He already had the beginning tests in the library computer. He thought I was coming to reclaim the Glory, and I was, but not the way he thought. It was a simple thing to kill him. I took the Glory and erased the computer files he’d been working on. I put the stone in a safe place. You never found it, did you? T’Pris became a problem, though. She was onto the personnel files, and I couldn’t let her find me out.”
Spock had circled the boulders and homed in on Reed’s voice. The man was hidden among the trees just beyond the boulders. Reed’s last words infuriated Spock, but he drew himself back from the edge of an anger that could have driven him into a stupid move.
Slowly. He must move slowly.
Reed was still speaking as Spock eased himself forward into the area between the rocks and the trees. There was a small amount of low brush, and Spock crept forward carefully on his hands and knees into it.
“Do you understand it now, Spock? Does your Vulcan honor comprehend how much it means to me to bring T’Dess Alar-ken-dasmin back to Vulcan with our revenge? House Archenida must acknowledge what I’ve done to save their vaunted honor. They must acknowledge that I am T’Dess’s great-grandson and a true Vulcan. It would be ashv’cezh.”
Spock had never felt the touch of the Vulcan concept of ashv’cezh, translated as “revenge worse [241] than death.” Reed’s act, no matter how criminal, would expose the lies House Archenida had spun for centuries, and T’Dess would have her humiliation and abandonment avenged in the most psychologically vicious manner that could be imposed on Vulcans. It was brilliant.
Spock had made his way to a position at right angles to Reed. He couldn’t speak, or he would give away where he was. His silence might provoke Reed, possibly cause the man to move out of cover where Spock could see him.
Suddenly, there was a rustle in the trees where Reed had taken cover. Reed called out in surprise and then fear. A movement behind him brought Spock around to face a group of mutants. One of them made to
grab him and then pulled back at the sight of his Vulcan features. He put the phaser back on his belt and made a gesture of peace toward them as Panlow had taught them, and the mutants moved aside for him. Spock straightened up and stepped out of the brush. Looking toward the trees, he saw another group of mutants had disarmed Reed and were wrestling him into a cleared area. Spock moved forward, raising a hand toward the mutants, and called out in the Aretian tongue.
“Stop! If you are Panlow’s people, you know me. Stay away from this man. He is a fugitive, and he is mine!”
The mutants paused, snapping looks between Reed and Spock. The one in the lead, a giant whose spine twisted into a hunched sideways position, waved a hand. “You have him.” The mutants pushed Reed toward Spock.
[242] Reed stared around wildly. “I’m an outcast, too. You know what that means. Help me. Help me!” His tone was clear, but his appeal in English fell on uncomprehending ears.
The mutants backed away, leaving Spock and Reed to face each other. Their meaning was also clear; it was not their quarrel. Whatever was between the normal and the mutant Spock was not their concern. Reed tried to lunge for the phaser one of the mutants held loosely in his hand, but Spock took a run and dived at him, bringing the security man crashing to the ground. Reed attempted to get a hand up to Spock’s neck, but Spock twisted away and brought his knee up into Reed’s gut. Not fancy, not even Vulcan, but it worked. Reed writhed in pain, allowing Spock to get to his feet. Reed still retained enough Vulcan strength to shake off the blow and stagger to his feet as Spock came at him again. Spock knew he was fighting without discipline, allowing rage over T’Pris’s death to command him, but all he wanted was to punish Reed. He reached for Reed’s neck with his right hand, intending to apply the lan-dovna hold. Reed batted his hand away, grabbed Spock’s arm, and threw him.
Spock doubled his knees to his chest as Reed pounced on him and kicked the man away to the right. Reed scrambled in the dirt, and Spock fell on top of him again, reaching this time for a neck pinch. Reed wriggled away by twisting under him and with a great effort wound up atop Spock. The two had been evenly matched until now, but Reed was gasping, his strength starting to fail. Spock’s hand shot for Reed’s throat as the man heaved for air. The lan-dovna hold would cut [243] off Reed’s breath forever. Suddenly, Spock found his mind flashing on an image of T’Pris—gentle, patient, wise ...
And unable to understand why her death would be celebrated with hate.
Spock’s honor would be lost if he murdered Reed in cold blood. Spock’s hand closed on the join of Reed’s shoulder; and as he administered the neck pinch, Reed collapsed in a limp heap under him. Spock stayed there a moment, hovering over the body of his enemy, pulling his emotions in under a tight rein. Dimly, he became aware of an odd noise and looked up. The mutants were hopping up and down in some kind of celebration dance and grunting. From the twisted smiles on their faces, Spock came to the conclusion that they thought he had done the right thing. The mutant holding the phaser came forward and held it out to him, grinning in approval.
Spock took it, nodding his thanks. Then he reached for his communicator, flicked open the grid, and grated, “Spock to Enterprise.”
“Enterprise. This is Pike.”
“I have him, Captain. There will be two to beam up, as soon as I see some friends of ours out of the area.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“I will explain later, sir.”
Pike waited in the security office as Spock half hauled the still weak Reed before him. Reed pulled himself erect and managed a proud stance before Pike and Orloff.
“You’ve done well, Mr. Spock,” Pike said. “I [244] believe Commander Orloff can handle the security detail from here.”
Reed spat on the deck and stared at them arrogantly. “I’ve beaten you all, anyway. When you find it—if you find it—you’ll find the Glory is all I’ve said it was. A fake. A disgrace to the Archenida clan. And that’s what I set out to do, to prove their honor and their legend is a lie.”
“We have found it, Reed,” Pike said flatly.
Reed and Spock both stared at Pike. Reed blurted out first. “What?”
“It was in the ‘very safe place’ you thought would be ideal to hide it. After Number One reported the complete sweep of the ship had found nothing, I wondered where someone on board might hide it so no one would think of looking there. I’ve read Poe, too, Reed. The obvious place to hide it is the place out in plain view—or, in this case, the one place no one would think to look. We found it in the security vault where you had replaced it in a different container.”
Reed struggled with that a moment, his pride staggering under the apparent ease with which the captain had countered him. “Well, it doesn’t matter that you found it. I’ve still shown up the conceit and the lies of the Archenida. I’ve shown that the heroic legend that surrounds them and the Glory was a prevarication from beginning to end.”
Pike gestured to Orloff. “Commander, would you bring the stone here.” The security chief moved forward with the huge emerald in his hands, and Spock looked down into the deep green stone that had caused so much havoc and death. “Spock, please call [245] up the report on the analysis of the Glory that we had the geology lab run while you and Reed were on Areta.”
Spock glanced sharply at Pike, then turned to the library-computer terminal on Orloff’s desk. “Computer, show the analysis on Vulcan’s Glory.”
The screen on the gooseneck mount immediately began to flash up information. Spock scanned it as rapidly as it winked on the screen, and then he turned to Reed. “Audio analysis,” he snapped. The library computer’s female voice began to intone the carbon and mineral properties of the stone. Spock began to smile at Reed, not a pleasant smile at all. “You hear that, Reed? Do you understand the analysis? It is an emerald—not glass. The Glory is real. It was lost as the legend said. The only liar was T’Dess. She poisoned you all with her hate. If you had done nothing—if you had simply been a member of the Enterprise crew which had found and restored the Glory to Vulcan—you would have been a hero. You and she might have returned to Vulcan and been given the warm welcome you desired. But you listened to her lies, listened to her hate, and you have lost everything.”
Reed’s face buckled in anguish and frustration, but Spock wasn’t looking at him. He was staring straight ahead and thinking, And so have I. So have I.
The Enterprise was en route from Areta to Vulcan. Pike had turned the bridge over to Number One and retired to his cabin, where he paced irritably while Phil Boyce reclined lazily in a form-molded chair and [246] sipped at a snifter of Saurian brandy—the only liquor he currently trusted. “Two key scientists dead, one security guard in the brig charged with their murders, all in the space of ten days. I thought this would be just another mission.”
“Those are the minuses,” Boyce said easily. “Consider the pluses, Chris. The situation on Areta is even better than was originally projected. The fate of the He-shii and her crew was discovered. Vulcan’s Glory was found and is being returned. Your new second officer proved to be reliable, resourceful, and talented. His intelligence goes without saying ...”
“All right, agreed,” Pike said. “But I can’t help but think that we’ve lost something in Spock through all of this. I grant he doesn’t have many reasons to smile right now, but he’s colder, harder, more silent than before. More formal, if you can imagine.”
“I noticed. Does it bother you, Chris?”
“I don’t know.” He corrected himself almost instantly. “Yes, it does. I liked the man I met two weeks ago. I’m not so sure about this change in him.”
“Life changes us all, sometimes a lot more quickly than we’d like, but we don’t often get to choose.” Boyce sipped his brandy and then said calculatingly, “Then there’s Number One.”
Pike stopped pacing and swung around to stare at the doctor. “Number One? What has she got to do with this?”
“She’s cool, often formal. You reg
ard her as a good officer.”
“Of course. The finest.”
“You like her.”
[247] “Absolutely. The most professional first officer I’ve ever—”
“How about as a woman?”
“She’s—” Pike shrugged. “Perfect.”
“Most men say they’re looking for a perfect woman.”
“Phil, what are you up to?”
The doctor shrugged his shoulders innocently and took another sip of the brandy. “Nothing. Just pointing out some of the local attractions to someone who’s been, mmm, scouting more exotic locales for quite some time now.”
Pike studied the older man, frowning. Boyce looked up at him with a slight smile. “Leave before this last one, you came back raving about Janeese Carlisle. Holophotos, everything. You couldn’t stop talking about her. I even heard about the ring you gave her. Not a real engagement, but the next thing to it. This time back, not a word. Gloom and depression. It doesn’t take too much thought for an old veteran to figure out you and Janeese decided to call it quits.”
“She did.”
“It happens, Chris. And you changed some because of it, the same way Spock has changed since he lost T’Pris. Part of the lumps we take as human beings. T’Pris died—that’s hard to accept for someone so young. What happened to you is a little more common. Someone we care deeply about just doesn’t care as much about us. We feel we’re less the man or woman we thought we were. That isn’t so. Sometimes things just don’t work out the way we want. Those are the chances we all take. I have. You have. And you [248] know what, Chris? We’ll keep on taking them. It’s human nature.”
Pike was silent for a moment, thinking it over. Then he looked up at Boyce. “You were talking about Number One.”
“Was I? Well, she’s an interesting woman.”
“Yes,” Pike said thoughtfully.
“And she’s perfect.”
The entire senior command of the Enterprise paid their respects to T’Pris’s family at the estate where her body had been borne to lie in state. Pike, Number One, Boyce, Caitlin Barry, and the other officers, all in dress uniforms, passed quietly before Sirak and T’Dar to murmur condolences for the loss of their daughter. Spock stood apart, as a representative of his father’s house, not as an Enterprise officer. The other Vulcan crew members were ranked behind him, respectful delegates of their own houses, paying homage to a colleague.
STAR TREK: TOS #44 - Vulcan's Glory Page 19
