First one, then a couple, and soon the whole tribe was charging down on them, brandishing spears and clubs and howling deafeningly. The native in the lead, a huge, husky fellow, raised his arm and prepared to hurl one of those thick weapons. His companions started to do likewise.
Apparently the community decision had been made that these strangers were not worth keeping alive any longer.
"Fire," Kirk ordered, at the same time depressing the trigger of his phaser and pointing it at the first aborigine.
Something happened.
His finger froze on the button, unable to depress the trigger the necessary millimeters to fire the weapon. His legs locked in place and his arms were held in an unbreakable yet velvety grasp. Even his eyelids were paralyzed. He tried to blink and couldn't.
Fortunately he wasn't staring at the sun, but he could see Spock nearby, held rigidly in a similar pose in the act of firing his own phaser. Commander bn Bem had been likewise deprived of all mobility.
Around them, the spectrum had gone berserk. He could still see clearly. The charging natives had also been frozen in place, spears poised for flight, clubs held ready to strike—but nothing, nothing looked natural.
Normally brown trees now glowed lambent maroon and sported fluorescent pink foliage. The blue sky overhead had turned a deep green, while the earth underfoot shone orange shot with black. And everything had a hazy, befuzzed edge to it.
Then the Voice sounded.
It was firm, faintly feminine, and hinted at immense power held easily in check. The Voice seemed to originate several centimeters behind Kirk's forehead, and it echoed all around the hollow places within, reverberating gently between his ears.
"No," the Voice instructed, "do not attempt to use your weapons." Kirk experimentally tried to comply and found he could raise his thumb from the trigger. The loosening of control was generalized, enabling him to move his extremities now—fingers, toes, eyes, and mouth.
He utilized the latter to announce unnecessarily, "I'm paralyzed, Mr. Spock."
"We are being held in a new, unique type of force field, Captain," the first officer commented thickly.
"Put away your weapons," the Voice continued. "These are My children. Do not attempt to harm them."
Kirk put aside the question of who was about to harm whom in his desire to learn what was at work here. It was certainly no manifestation of the spear-wielders' minds.
"Who are you?" he asked.
"Who are you?" came the reply.
Proceed slowly, he warned himself. This is a powerful, unknown quantity with unknowable motivations. Don't anger it, and don't give anything away.
"I'm Captain James Tiberius Kirk of the Federation cruiser Enterprise. On my right is my first officer, Mr. Spock, and on his right, Honorary Commander Ari bn Bem of the Pandro system of worlds."
Kirk received the impression that this honest recounting of names and titles satisfied the Voice.
"Why are you here?" it inquired with what sounded like true curiosity. "Why do you disturb this place?"
"It is part of our mission," Kirk tried to explain, striving to make their assignment sound as innocuous as possible. "We are required to classify this planet. We have to take readings, examine the native population, report the state of—"
The Voice interrupted, not angrily, but annoyed. "What gives you the right to intrude here? This planet was not created for your use. My children are not created to be subjects of your tests. Your weapons, bad things, will be nullified."
Kirk watched the phaser he held simply melt away. He experienced no pain, no sensation of heat—only a slight tingle in his palm after the phaser had completely vanished. The tingling faded rapidly.
"I would say 'nullified' was an understatement, Spock."
Natural color returned without warning. Kirk stumbled, his muscles stiff from being held motionless so long.
Seeing the intruders stumble and the peculiar shiny things disappear from their hands, the natives slowed. They lowered their spears and clubs and clustered tightly around their captives.
"There are times, Mr. Spock," Kirk went on, staring in amazement at his now empty hand, "when I think I should have been a librarian."
"There are those who believe the task of librarian would be equally challenging, Captain," Spock responded as the circle of lowered spears grew denser around them. Sharp points touched the midsections of the three captives. "Though it is undoubtedly less dangerous . . ."
"The disturbance was temporarily localized, Mr. Scott," Uhura reported from the science console. "I have been able to fix it near what appears to be a village of local native life. It's not far from where you originally set down."
"Never mind the disturbance," Scott muttered, eyeing Arex. "Have you found the captain and Mr. Spock yet?"
"I've located emanations which could be the captain's and Commander Spock's," he explained carefully, with the emphasis on the 'could be.' "But the sensory anomaly has so interfered with our instrumentation that it is impossible to make positive identification at this time."
"Which means—" Uhura began, but Scott cut her off.
" 'Could be' is good enough for me, right now, Lieutenant. Ready a security landing squad. We're going down there with questions and phasers." He rose from the con and headed toward the turbolift
Kirk, Spock, and bn Bem found themselves secured within the three cages only recently vacated. This time they were surrounded by several guards who looked alert and ugly. Kirk did not enjoy the return to familiar surroundings. Their moment of liberty had been shortlived and short-circuited by a mysterious unseen power which saw fit to side with the antisocial locals. And now they didn't even have the possibility of recovering their phasers or communicators. The former had been melted into nothingness, and the latter were confiscated by their captors.
As might be expected, Commander bn Bem did not improve the situation any. "You've mishandled problem again, Kirk Captain," the Pandronian berated him. "This One judges you not an intelligent captain."
Kirk was almost too discouraged by their failed escape and subsequent recapture to respond. "Commander bn Bem, Mr. Spock and I are here in the first place because we thought you were worth rescuing. Don't misunderstand me. It was to preserve good relations between the Federation and planet Pandro, not out of any overwhelming affection for your person."
"Planet Pandro," bn Bem riposted, "is unconcerned as to fate of This One. Planet Pandro will not have dealings with ineffectual and inferior species. You've failed everything you have attempted. You have not rescued This One and you have not been able to handle local primitives."
At the conclusion of this sneering polemic, seeing that the guards were temporarily inattentive, the commander literally came apart at the seams.
His head hopped down off his shoulders, moving on short stumpy legs. His upper torso, headless now, walked on long arms, while both legs, joined at the top, slid easily through the bars of the cage. These parts were followed by the rest of the commander.
The head turned back to call to Kirk and Spock. "This One wishes you—what is the Federation-Sol word—luck? Yes, luck. You will require it."
With a contemptuous salute from one of the arms attached to the upper torso, the components of the commander scuttled separately into the surrounding brush.
"Wait! Unlock us—set us free!" Kirk finally gave up shouting at the unresponsive forest. Meanwhile, the guards noted the sudden disappearance of one of their captives, yet again. Much frantic gabbling and gesticulating ensued, after which most of them started off into the jungle, following the tracks of bn Bem's main legs. Some shook spears and clubs at the two men still imprisoned, made faces promising dire developments on their return.
Kirk sympathized with them.
"So much for interspecies loyalty and Pandronian-Federation friendship," he muttered angrily. "Well, fine! We're going to get no help from our guest, we cannot communicate with these natives, and we can't get through to the ship. What now?"
"Perhaps," Spock mused thoughtfully, "we can regain the attention of the powerful local intelligence and reason with it."
The aborigines had left the communicators unguarded nearby. Spock succeeded in unraveling enough of one vine to make a small lasso. Kirk watched uneasily, expecting some native to happen along at any moment, while Spock patiently cast and recast the line.
Eventually they regained their communicators. But a furtive attempt to contact the ship produced the same results as before—nothing.
Kirk studied the device as if it were capable of producing the miracle they hoped for. "It's worth a try, I suppose." He started to talk, then hesitated. "How do you address something you've never seen and cannot imagine?" He shrugged as Spock regarded him silently.
"Oh, well . . . Kirk to alien intelligence, Kirk to alien intelligence. This is Captain James Kirk calling the controlling intelligence of this world. Answer—respond, please."
He felt something of the fool talking into a communicator directed at thin air. It probably would be as effective to throw his head back and howl at the sky. But using the communicator couldn't hurt.
He continued trying, to continued nonresponse.
"Perhaps an offering of some sort, Captain," suggested Spock.
Kirk eyed his first officer evenly. "Whatever we're dealing with, Mr. Spock, I don't think we can bribe it. Not that we've much to bribe with, but somehow I think it's imperative we be honest with it." He directed his voice to the small pickup and tried again, earnestly.
"Kirk to alien intelligence, Kirk to alien intelligence." He paused, shaking his head. "Good idea, and that's all, Spock."
"Hmmm," the Vulcan murmured. "If we connect our two communicators, we can generate a single high-energy burst, several times the strength a single communicator can put out. That might draw more attention to us." He finished the proposal unwaveringly:
"Doing so will also render both communicators powerless in a very short time."
"Do it," Kirk concurred. "They're useless now anyway, if we can't reach the ship through them."
"The interference could clear later, Captain."
"Yes, but by then our jailers will be back and will take them away from us again. They'll put them way out of reach. Let's take the gamble, Spock."
"Precisely my thoughts, Captain." He extended both hands and arms through the bars of his cage.
Kirk moved over to the side facing Spock's cage. He made a one, two, three gesture with the hand holding the communicator and let it fly with a soft underhand toss. Spock caught it neatly and bent immediately to the task of mating the two instruments.
Ordinarily he could have accomplished the task in a couple of minutes, but the circumstances were not as conducive to such work as were the labs on board the Enterprise. Nevertheless, he managed it.
When they were firmly locked together, he tossed the hybrid back to Kirk, who checked the reintegrated circuitry and nodded approval. He switched it on, felt the warmth immediately as the double-powered device began to build toward overload.
"This is Captain James Tiberius Kirk calling the ruling intelligence of this world. Can you hear me? If so, please acknowledge."
He repeated the call over and over, working against the mounting heat in the joined communicators, steadily adjusting the frequency modulator.
"Kirk to entity, Kirk to entity. This is Captain James Tiberius Kirk calling the—"
The wooden bars of the cage turned violet, the ground became orange shot with black, and he found his fingers frozen on the double communicator.
"I am here," the Voice announced gently.
"We apologize for our intrusion," Kirk explained hurriedly. "We didn't realize the true situation here. If we had, we certainly would not have proceeded as we have. If you will permit us, we will leave immediately in our vessel and not return. Nor will others of our kind come.
"If we do not return, then others of our Federation will surely come and you will be troubled no end. Please understand, this is not a threat. They will come not as destroyers, but rather as curious explorers."
There was a long silence during which Kirk discovered that despite his paralysis he could still sweat.
"This is good," the Voice finally decided. Kirk let out a private shout. "Go, then—go now and do not return."
The paralysis vanished. Kirk stretched in relief. "Just one more thing: There's a third member of our group."
"I detect no third intelligence here," the Voice responded, sounding puzzled.
"He, uh, left this immediate area," Kirk hastened to explain.
The Voice ignored him. "You must go. You must not interfere with the natural activities of My children. I will allow you to contact your ship again, but go now."
Kirk didn't hesitate. Rapidly he disconnected the two communicators and checked the power leads. "Still functioning—whew!" A second sufficed to reset his own communicator on standard ground-to-ship frequency.
"Kirk to Enterprise. Kirk to—"
Response was gratifyingly fast. "Enterprise," an excited voice sounded over the little speaker. "Uhura here. Captain, are you all right?"
"Affirmative. Stand by." He looked across at Spock. "We're not leaving without bn Bem. He's still our responsibility, and I won't abandon him here—no matter how much he deserves it. I can't play personalities in this." He returned his attention to the communicator.
"Lieutenant Uhura, beam down a security squad with tricorders set for Pandronian scan."
"Aye, aye, sir. Mr. Scott has already readied one, with phaser cannon."
"Belay that, Lieutenant!" Kirk ordered frantically. "No heavy weapons—just tricorders. Hop to it. Kirk out." He flipped the communicator shut and stuck it back to his waist.
"Cannon or no, the intelligence will still be most displeased, Captain."
"I'll worry about that when I have to, Mr. Spock," replied Kirk firmly. "Our primary concern now is to recover Commander bn Bem, whatever the opposition." He looked toward the center of the village clearing. "Here they come . . ."
Small rainbow whirlwinds began to form before them. Six crew members appeared, five of them clad in security tunics, the sixth in that of the engineering division.
"Captain, Mr. Spock," Scott exclaimed the moment he had fully rematerialized and had time for a look around, "are you all right?" He pulled his phaser, adjusted it, and began burning through the fastenings on the cage door.
"All right now, Scotty," Kirk replied.
The last fiber gave and Kirk was freed. One of the ensigns had performed a similar service for Spock.
"Spread out, staying within sight of each other at all times. You're all familiar with the Enterprise's guest, Commander Ari bn Bem of Pandro?" There were nods and signs of affirmation, several of them embroidered with personal opinion.
"This is a priority assignment," Kirk warned them sternly. "Personal opinions and feelings have no place here. We may encounter hostile native bipeds. Stun only for self-protection, and then only as a last resort.
"Now, let's spread out and try to locate Commander bn Bem. He's split into three individual parts."
"Beggin' pardon, sir," Scott blurted, voicing the general confusion. "Three parts?"
"Commander bn Bem is some kind of colony creature," Kirk explained. "He can operate as a single large individual, as you've seen him, or as three separated segments—maybe more, we don't know." He grinned tightly. "I guarantee you won't confuse part of him for native life."
The group turned and started off toward the section of forest the Pandronian had run into, spreading out as Kirk had directed and working their way through the beginnings of the thickening undergrowth.
As it developed, they got no further than Spock, Kirk, and bn Bem had the previous night.
Captain's admonition or no, when confronted by the sudden appearance of numerous screaming natives three meters tall, all charging toward them waving spears and clubs, none of the security personnel hesitated. Low-power phaser bursts colored
the air and several natives dropped, temporarily paralyzed.
The Voice, despite Spock's fears, did not interfere. The ground remained brown, the leaves green, and their limbs mobile. They continued into the jungle.
It wasn't long before they encountered the main body of warriors. They were returning to the village with a recaptured (and intact) Commander bn Bem in their midst. He was tied like a tiger, every part of his body secured with vines and lianas.
A few phaser bursts were enough to send the rest of the natives running in terror. They left their weapons and fallen comrades and vanished into the trees, leaving a securely bound bn Bem standing alone behind them. Kirk thought the commander looked rather embarrassed.
"We couldn't help it, sir," Scott declared, running over to join Kirk as the captain moved toward the Pandronian. "The crew had to defend themselves."
"Don't worry about it now, Scotty," Kirk reassured him, anxiously studying the sky and the terrain around them. "Let's get our guest and get out of here before we make any real trouble."
bn Bem's head inclined forward and there was a moroseness, a modesty in his tone Kirk had never heard. "Embarrassment results," he declared softly. "This One is shamed. This One has failed in its judgment."
If that was a plea for sympathy, it was wasted on Kirk. "You have endangered all of us by your actions," he chastised the commander, "and you've forced us to interfere with the natives of a world that deserves prime directive protection—not to mention outright quarantine."
The Pandronian struggled to regain some of his former haughtiness. "This One exists by its own standards," he announced, rather lamely.
"Not on my ship, you don't. Not any more. I'll stand for a lot, Commander, but when the Enterprise itself is endangered, diplomacy takes a back seat." He kicked at the dirt and reached for his communicator.
Star Trek - Log 9 Page 4
