by James Blish
"No, I would not. I have a responsibility. If you are indeed a commander, you will recognize it. Where are we going?"
Kirk decided to yield for the moment; there was no point in insisting on a contest with a man just yanked back from the edge of death, no matter how arrogant he was. "Our heading is Star Base Twelve, our command base in this sector."
"Which is?"
"I doubt that identifying the sector would do you any good. It is many parsecs beyond the system you were headed for, and our galactic coordinate system probably doesn't correspond with the one you're used to."
"Galactic," the man said. "I see. And my people?"
"Seventy-two of the canisters are still functioning. The people will be revived when we reach Star Base Twelve. We wanted to see how we fared with reviving you, first."
"Logical and hard-headed; I approve. I do begin to grow fatigued. Can we continue the questioning at another time?"
"You haven't answered any questions yet," Kirk said, "except by inference."
"I apologize," the big man said at once. "My name is, Kahn. I command the Botany Bay Colonizing Expedition. I think perhaps I could answer your questions better if I knew your period, your terminology and so on—perhaps something to read during my convalescence would serve. History, technology, whatever is available."
It seemed a sensible request. "Dr. McCoy will show you how to hook your viewing screen here into our library tapes. And I think Lieutenant McGivers would enjoy filling you in on the history."
"Very good." Kahn smiled. "I have two hundred years of catching up to do. I . . ."
Suddenly, his eyes closed. McCoy looked at the body function panel.
"Asleep," McCoy said. "Well, I'm glad he's got some human weaknesses."
It was not until Kirk was on his way back to the bridge that he fully realized how little Kahn had told him. Irritated, mostly at himself, he collared Spock at the computer. "Anything?"
"Nothing about a star flight until the Alpha Centauri expedition of 2018," the first officer said. "How is the patient?"
"Arrogant—and clever. Enormously powerful. And with enormous magnetism. Not at all what I expected in a twentieth-century man."
"Interesting. Possibly a product of selective breeding."
"That had occurred to me," Kirk admitted. "If I wanted a superman, he's very much the kind of outcome I'd shoot for."
"Exactly, Captain. He is almost a stereotype of an Earthman's dreams of power and potency. And from what I can put together from the fragments of the record, just the kind of man who precipitated the chaos of the 1990s."
"Oh? I thought it was a group of scientists."
"Partly true," Spock said, "and partly, I would judge, a comfortable fiction. The scientists encouraged carefully arranged marriages among themselves, and applied their knowledge of heredity to their own offspring. The sports and monsters did not appear until after the war was well started, and almost surely were spontaneous mutations erupting from all the ambient radioactivity. The scientists stayed aloof and went right on breeding what they thought was Homo superior."
"Fact?" Kirk demanded. "Or just that old legend of the mad scientists again?"
"Mostly deduction," Spock said. "But the scientists existed. Not mad—not raving mad, anyhow. Dedicated men who believed their wards would grow up to seize power peaceably, put an end to war, famine, greed—a noble ambition, which of course misfired."
"And our patient?"
"One of those children. His age would be right. A group of aggressive, arrogant young men did seize power simultaneously in over forty nations. But they had overextended themselves; they could not hold what they seized. That much is fact. And one more thing, Captain. Are you aware that some eighty or ninety of those people were never brought to trial, were never even found after the chaos? No bodies, no graves, no traces?"
"I certainly wasn't," Kirk said.
"And they should have been found, or the authorities should have pretended that they had been found. Think of the panic among the remaining, starving war-weary people even to suspect that eighty Napoleons might still be alive. And, Captain . . ."
"Yes," Kirk said heavily. "I'm no match for you as a logician, Mr. Spock, but even I can see where that sentence is leading. You think those eighty Napoleons are still alive—and we have seventy-nine of them in tow, and one on board."
"Precisely, Captain."
Kirk thought about it for quite a while.
"It stands up," he said. "But what we're left with, is that we can get no more pertinent information anywhere except from Kahn himself. He's got a mind like a tantalum-lined vault, so we'll never force it out of him. We'll have to try to charm it . . . which probably won't work either. Maybe we can use the customs of his own time to disarm him. I'll see what Lieutenant McGivers has to suggest."
What Marla McGivers had to suggest was a formal dinner, attended by all the major officers of the Enterprise, as a welcome for Commander Kahn to the twenty-third century. She was obviously far from disinterested in the proposal, and Kirk suspected that Kahn had already made his first new conquest in the new century; but there were no regulations against romance, and in any event, Kirk had nothing better to suggest.
Marla appeared with a new and totally anachronistic hair style which went a long way toward confirming Kirk's suspicions. As for Kahn, it was impossible to tell whether or not he was charmed; he far too efficiently charmed everybody else, instead. There seemed to be no situation in which he could not feel at home, after only a few minutes' appraisal.
Then, over the brandy, it suddenly turned out at least one officer of the Enterprise was not prepared to recognize charm even if he were hit over the head with it. Spock said, "But you still have not told us why you decided on star travel, Commander Kahn—nor how you managed to keep it out of the records."
"Adventure, Mr. Spock. There was little else left to be accomplished on Earth."
"There was the overthrow of the Eugenics tyrannies," Spock said. "Many men considered that a worthwhile effort."
"A waste of spirit in a desert of shame," Kahn said. "There was much that was noble about the Eugenics crusade. It was the last grand attempt to unify humanity, at least in my time."
"Like a team of horses under one harness, one whip?"
"I refuse to take offense, Mr. Spock," Kahn said genially. "Much can be accomplished by a team. It was a time of great dreams—great aspirations."
"Great aspirations under petty dictatorships? Never in previous history, at least."
"I disagree," Kahn said. "One man, not many, would eventually have ruled. As in Rome under Augustus—and see what that accomplished—Captain Kirk, you understand me well. You let your second-in-command attack me, and through me, you; yet you remain silent, and watch for weakness. A sound principle."
"You have a tendency," Kirk said, "to express your ideas in military terms, Commander Kahn. This is a social occasion."
"It has been said," Kahn said easily, "that social occasions are only warfare concealed. Many prefer their warfare more honest and open."
"There was open warfare on Earth," Kirk said. "Yet it appears that you fled it."
"Not much can be done with a nearly destroyed world."
"In short," Spock said, "you were afraid."
Kahn's eyes flashed. "I have never been afraid."
"And that does not frighten you?"
"How? I don't understand you, Mr. Spock. How can a man be afraid of never being afraid? It is a contradiction in terms."
"Not at all," the first officer said. "It is a null class in the class of all classes not members of the given class."
Kahn was now beginning to look angry. Kirk, secretly a little amused, interposed. "I'm sorry, Commander, but you just pushed Mr. Spock's logic button, which has a tendency to make him incomprehensible for the next ten minutes or so. Nevertheless, I think his question a good one. You say you have never been afraid; yet you left at the very time mankind most needed courage."
"
Courage! How can one impart courage to sheep? I offered the world order. Order! And what happened? They panicked. I left behind nothing worth saving."
"Then," Spock said, "do you imagine that this ship, to take a simple example, was built by sheep, out of panic? I do not further impugn your logic, Commander Kahn, but I am beginning to mistrust your eyesight."
Marla, who had been completely silent since the start of the discussion, stood up so suddenly that coffee slopped in saucers all the way around the table.
"I never thought," she said in a trembling voice, "that I'd ever see so much rudeness to a starship guest."
"Was I rude?" Spock said mildly, raising his eyebrows. "If so, I apologize."
"And I," said Kirk, repressing another grin.
"I quite accept your apologies," Kahn said, also rising. "But if you will excuse me, gentlemen and ladies, I am tired. It has been a good many centuries, and I would like to return to my quarters. If you would guide me back, Marla . . .?"
They went out, followed, at a slight motion of the head from Kirk, by every other guest but Spock. When the room was empty, Kirk said, "And McCoy calls me a fair psychologist! I've never seen a better needling job in my life, Mr. Spock."
"I myself am not very happy with it, Captain," the first officer said. "The human half of my make-up seems to go to sleep just when I need it most. Consider, really, how little we have learned. The man's name: Sibahl Khan Noonien. From 1992 through 1996, military chieftain of a quarter of your world from South Asia through the Middle East, and the last of the tyrants to be overthrown. And apparently very much admired, as such men go; there was very little freedom under his rule, but also there were no massacres, and no war until he was attacked by a lesser dictator of his own breed. A man of power, who understands the uses of power, and who should have been much admired by the people whom he calls sheep, the people who feel more comfortable being led."
"And you got all that just from what he said tonight? I would say that's considerable."
"It is not what we need to know," Spock insisted. "The main question is, why did he run away? That was what I was hoping to elicit from him. But he caught me at it. I do not call that very good psychology."
"I see what you mean," Kirk said reflectively. "Until we know that, we can't know what he might intend now—or what risks we might run in reviving the other seventy or so of them. We will just have to try another gambit . . . But there's one other thing. What was the point of that question about being afraid of never having been afraid? I thought for a moment that I saw what you were driving at, and then you lost me in your logical technicalities. Isn't the question what you would call a tautology?"
"No, Captain," Spock said. "But I was trying to make it look like one. I was not trying to confuse you, certainly, but Commander Kahn—and I hope that at least there, I succeeded. Fear is an essential reaction to the survival of any sentient creature. If he does not know fear, he never knows when it is sensible to run; and yet, Commander Kahn ran. Since he claims never to have felt fear, what other reason can he have had?"
"Hmm," Kirk said. "I've never seen a single sentient creature that didn't feel fear when it was appropriate. Yet he was very convincing on that very point."
"Indeed he was," Spock said. "And, Captain—that scares me."
Nothing Spock had ever said before had quite so stunned Kirk. As he stared at his Science Officer, the vacated, somehow sadly messy scene of the formal dinner suddenly rang with the alarm to General Quarters.
"Abrams in Security, Captain. Kahn's missing."
"McCoy here. Kahn's not here. No sign of McGivers, either—not even in her quarters. And he's not there."
"Transporter room here. We've had a guard slugged, Lieutenant Adamski is missing, and there's been a lot of power expended in the last half hour."
"Scott reporting. I . . ."
"Uhura, what happened to Scotty? Get him back!"
"Dead channel, Captain. I can't raise the arsenal, either."
"Spock, send somebody down."
"All turbo elevators inoperative. Emergency exits jammed."
The lights began to go down. "Batteries!"
"Shunted out, Captain. Also, the atmosphere's off."
"Engineering! Scott! What's going on down there? Scotty!"
And then they heard Kahn's voice. It was coming through Uhura's own board, though it was impossible to imagine how Kahn had made the crippled array speak.
"He's not able to talk with you at the moment, Captain," Kahn said. "I'm afraid your ship is mine—or rather, ours. I have almost all my people aboard her, at every key point. Everything is jammed; you have perhaps ten minutes before you suffocate. Would you like to negotiate with me?"
"Uhura, can you raise Star Ship Command?"
"No, sir, this board is a dead duck. I can't even dump a message capsule."
"Brilliant," Spock said softly.
There was only one thing left to do. "Security Five, Mr. Spock. Flood all decks."
"Bypassed, Captain. Commander Kahn seems to have been a very quick student."
"Can we go to Six?" That would fill the air with radioactive gas from the fusion chamber and kill almost everyone on board; but . . .
"No sir, we cannot. Nothing is left but Destruct. That's still alive."
"The air up there should be getting quite toxic by now," Kahn's voice said. "You don't have much time."
"What do you want, Kahn?"
"Surrender of the bridge."
"Refused," Kirk said.
"Very well. It is academic, anyhow. In ten minutes, every person on the bridge will be dead."
Nothing further was heard from Kahn after that. Slowly, the air turned foul. After a while, nobody was conscious but Kirk, and then . . . and then . . .
Kirk awoke, with considerable surprise, in the briefing room. His entire staff seemed to be with him—all weak, but all alive. They were heavily under guard by Kahn and a group of men very like him, all carrying Enterprise phasers. The men from the Botany Bay were inarguably splendid—looking specimens—large, strong, healthy, handsome, and above all, alert.
"Very good," Kahn said. "Now we can talk. You see, Captain, nothing changes—except man. Your technical accomplishments are illusions, simply the tools which men use. The key has always been man himself. Improve a mechanical device and you double your capacity; improve man, and you gain a thousand fold. You, I judge, are such a man, Captain, as am I. You would be wise to join me."
Kirk said nothing. Kahn turned to Spock. "I am tempted," Spock said. "I admire your tactics . . . but not, I am afraid, your philosophy. And I know from history how self-appointed supermen treat mixed breeds. Let us see how you run the ship by yourself."
"You will see. My offer to you is closed. Navigator, I want you to set course for the nearest colonized planet—one with port facilities and a population which is not afraid of discipline."
"Go to blazes," Spinelli said.
"It is as I thought," Spock said. "You may know the Enterprise well, Commander, but your newly revived colleagues do not. I think we have a stalemate."
"Do we? Dr. McCoy, you maintain a decompression chamber in your laboratory, isn't that so? Yes, I know it is. Joaquin, take Captain Kirk to the chamber. Put him inside, and lower the pressure to zero. I trust the rest of you understand what that means. You can spare him that. All I want from you is your word that you will continue performing your duties."
"Nobody," Kirk said harshly, "is to lift a finger to save me. I so order."
"I am not bluffing," Kahn said pleasantly. "If, of course, you allow your Captain to die, you will all follow him, one by one, into the chamber."
Kirk caught Marla's eye. She was staring wide-eyed at Kahn. Evidently she had discovered something she hadn't taken into account.
There was a blare from a wall speaker, and then a babble of angry, excited crowd noises. "Kahn," said an unfamiliar voice, "this is Paul in the recreation room. They're getting out of hand. I may have to kill a few of them.
"
"Do so, then."
"No!" Marla said. "I have friends there . . . Kahn, please. If I could talk to them . . . reassure them . . . There's no need to kill them."
"You may attempt it," Kahn said. "Be certain they understand that I have no compunctions about killing if I'm forced to."
The guards hustled Kirk out, with Marla in tow. Perhaps they were unfamiliar with the ship in detail, but they certainly knew their way to McCoy's laboratory. They bundled Kirk into the decompression chamber as though they were doing nothing more interesting than autoclaving a rack of test tubes. The door shut, and a moment later Kirk heard the pumps begin to throb.
For some reason, he felt neither alarmed nor resigned. His chief emotion was anger, at being put through asphyxiation twice in one hour.
There seemed to be nothing to do about it, however.
Then the door hissed and swung back. Kirk stepped out cautiously. One of the supermen, the one called Joaquin, was out cold on the floor, with Marla standing over him, a wrench held awkwardly in her hands. The other guard evidently had gone off somewhere.
"Are you all right?" Marla said tremulously.
"I think so. The pressure didn't have time to drop much. I'm glad to see you're good for something." He stooped and picked up Joaquin's phaser.
Marla grasped his arm. "Captain, please," she said.
"Well?"
"I saved your life. Promise me you . . . won't kill him."
"No promises," Kirk said, looking around the laboratory. After a moment, he spotted what he wanted; a bulb of the anesthetic gas McCoy used to capture specimens. He juggled it with pleasure. "Stay here and try not to get yourself any deeper into trouble than you are. I think I am about to bag myself some choice items for some zoo."
It was not all that easy. Before it was over, one of the supermen was dead, and almost everyone else on both sides was considerably banged up. At last, however, the survivors from the Botany Bay were locked in a hold, and Kirk and his officers reassembled in the briefing room.
"Well, Mr. Spock," Kirk said, "I think we know now why they left the Earth."
