Star Trek - TOS - The Tears Of The Singers

by Melinda Snodgrass

  214

  The Tears of the Singm

  "Hey, take it easy, Mr. Maslin," Ragsdale said, placing a soothing hand on

  the smaller man's shoulders. "Here, have some tea, and take a break."

  "No time. We have no time to take a break," Maslin muttered, but he allowed

  the security chief to assist him off the bench, and over to a camp stool.

  The uninjured and ambulatory members of the landing party had gathered in

  an encouraging group about the synthesizer. Also joining the humans were

  the cubs. They sat in a polite and very interested circle about the

  synthesizer, but nothing Mashn tried drew any response from the Tkygetians.

  They sat like cuddly little stuffed animals on a toy store's shelves, their

  mouths tipped in that never-ending smile, and their blue eyes happy and

  alert.

  At sunset a mournful wind had risen which occasionally sent particles of

  sand stinging into their faces, and whipped their parkas about their

  trembling bodies. Only one moon was up this night, and it raced across the

  sky with the clouds scudding now and then across its pale, luminous face.

  It was terribly cold, and Spock had ordered that every available heater and

  all the lights be placed around the instrument. Maslin looked fragile,

  almost transparent, and the Vulcan had begun to fear that he would not live

  long enough to find the solution that might save the Enterprise.

  Ragsdale thrust a steaming mug of tea into Maslin's hands, and Uhura

  wrapped her arms about his slight body, holding him close as she would a

  child. He sighed, and rested his head on her shoulder. His eyes were two

  hollows of blackness, and McCoy edged closer to Spock.

  "I can't give him any more cordrazine."

  "I know."

  "He's dying before our eyes."

  "We are all staring into that void, Doctor. If Mr. Maslin's efforts can

  save us then we must allow him to continue."

  "Better one than all of us, huh?" McCoy grunted.

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  The Team of the Singers

  "It is the mor& .. P

  "Don't say it, Spock," McCoy said. "I really don't think I can stand to

  hear that word one more time."

  "Why won't they respond to me?" Maslin asked, his voice small as he huddled

  within the folds of his parka. "I'm doing everything right, I know I am."

  "I'm sure you are," Uhura said , stroking his hair. "Maybe they just can't

  relate to us."

  "But music is music," he objected, struggling a bit to sit UP.

  "I know, I know," she said soothingly as she would to a frightened foal,

  and held him still, trying to force him to relax. "Guy, it's not your

  fault."

  "Then whose fault is it?" he demanded. ,rm the big hotshot who was supposed

  to solve all the problems!"

  "Without you we wouldn't even have gotten this far."

  "I don't want to die on this ball of dirt," he suddenly whispered. "I want

  to go home, marry you, write my symphony."

  Uhura swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat. "You won't, and you

  will."

  'Then you will marry me?" he asked, his face recovering a measure of that

  devil-may-care expression that she had learned to love.

  "Did you ever doubt it?"

  'You wouldnt have married me that first night."

  "No," she agreed with a laugh. "I thought you were aterninable."

  "And now?" he asked, his eyes pleading with her.

  "I love you," she said simply, and then looked about with embarrassment,

  hoping that they hadn't been overheard. She noted with relief that the rest

  of the landing party had drawn politely away from them.

  He reached up and cupped her cheek in one hand. She turned her head to

  press a quick kiss into the palm of his hand, and was alarmed and upset by

  the icy coldness of his

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  The Tears of the MnSers

  skin. She quickly gathered his hands in hers, and began to breathe on them.

  "No," he said, pulling his hands free, and sliding them around her body.

  "Give me that breath where it will do me some good."

  She nodded, and they kissed. It was a desperate, clinging embrace, and in

  that moment she wished that they could just forget this desperate

  struggling to survive. All she wanted was to crawl away into their tent,

  and lie in his arms until death came to take them both. Tears burned in her

  eyes, and she could feel the warm traff as they overflowed and slid down

  her cheeks. He kissed away the salty moisture, then held her face between

  his hands, and stared at her.

  "Don't cry, my darling. We don't have the time for that kind of

  self-indulgence."

  "What should I do then?" she asked, forcing a smile to her lips.

  "Sing for me."

  "What would you like to bear?"

  "Something I wrote-naturally," he said with a flash of his old sardonic

  humor.

  "Naturally."

  She cast about, and finally decided on a delicate little arietta that he

  had written for her in those first days when he had come aboard the

  Enterprise. He had used a bit of Italian verse from the seventeenth century

  for the text, and she loved the little song with a passion surpassing any

  other Piece of music. She cradled him once more in her arms, and began to

  sing. The landing party gathered around to listen, and even the cubs ceased

  their constant warblings and joined in the circle, listening with the

  greatest of mterest.

  "Lawi ancoreposare un shinco, un stanco. " Her rich, warm voice reached a

  long sustained note, and the pure tone spun like a crystal ball supported

  by the arching waters of a fountain. There was a melodic sigh from the

  lkygetian cubs, and Guy's eyes flew open.

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  The Tears of the Singers

  "My God! My God! My God!" he kept repeating as he struggled to his feet.

  "What? What is it?" Uhura cried, alarmed by his agitation. She leaped to

  her feet and caught him by the arm, trying to stop his frenzied pacings.

  "That's it, that's it."

  "What?" Kali broke in.

  "What's it?" came a chorus of voices.

  "Please calm down!" came an order from McCoy that was ignored.

  "Don't you see?" Maslin demanded, whirling on Spock and reaching out for

  the Vulcan with desperate hands. "We've been working instrumentally! Their

  whole orientation is vocal. They thought we were making pretty sounds at

  them, but it didn't have any meaning, couldn't have. After all, we weren't

  talking."

  "Are you sure?" Spock asked cautiously-

  "It has to be. Damn it! I understand that languge, and every bit of logic

  and intelligence tells me they ought to be responding. So why aren't they?,

  Simple. We weren't using the right medium. Besides, we've got empirical

  proof."

  "Oh?" Spock raised a skeptical eyebrow.

  Maslin grabbed Uhura, and yanked her over to face the Vulcan. "Her! They

  responded to Uhura's singing. They don't understand the words since it's

  another language, but they recognized it as communication."

  "Come on, Spock," McCoy urged, moving in to join the debate. "It's at least

  worth a try."

  "I was not hesitating because I doubted the efficacy of such an attempt,

  Doctor,
but because I was trying to determine the most effective way to

  make the attempt."

  "Simple," Maslin said, walking Uhura over to the synthesizer. "Uhura sings

  into the synthesizer. The machine translates her sounds and words into

  Thygetian, and ... and well, we're home free."

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  The Tears of the Singers

  "Perhaps. But let us not forget that the Thygetians are also telepathic

  creatures."

  "Then we'll think real hard while she sings," Maslin said impatiently. "But

  what ever we do, let's for God's sake get on with it.99

  "Very well."

  "I can't just sing cold like this," Uhura protested.

  "I'll improvise," Maslin said, sliding onto the bench. "You follow. We've

  done it often enough before."

  "Words? How about some text? It's a little hard to just start babbling in

  song about what's going on."

  'qYuc. Bear with me for a moment." He ripped a sheet of composition paper

  from the notebook that rested on the synthesizer, and began to scribble.

  "How about some help?" he called to the rest of the party. "Any of you good

  at jinglesr'

  "Dear gods what a task," Kali said, joining him and Uhura on the bench.

  "What shall we say?"

  "We'll want to keep it simple since we'll just be speaking pidgen as far as

  they're concerned."

  "Start with the phenomenon," Spock said, moving in.

  'Then my people," Kali offered.

  "The battle," Ragsdale suggested, becoming exeited.

  "And tfien the loss of the ships into the phenomenon," said McCoy, adding

  his bit.

  "And finally we'll ask them to return out people," Uhura concluded soberly.

  "All of our people," Kali added with a challenging look to the humans.

  "But they'll just start attacking us again," Ragsdale protested.

  ,,Not if my husband can get back to his ship and reassert control." She

  paused and looked about at the alien faces. "I have friends and companions

  on those ships. I would not have them all die because of a few evil men."

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  The Tears of the Singers

  "Very well," Spock said, seeing that Kali was adamant upon this point. "We

  will ask for the return of all of the ships.,'

  "Jesus, we may as well try explaining the ascent of man, the conquest of

  space and the founding of the Federation," Maslin muttered sourly as he

  stared down at his scribbled notes.

  "What other choice do we have?" Kali reminded him quietly.

  "Good point. Okay, let's get to it."

  It took two hours, but at last they had something that basically scanned.

  Maslin read it over several more times, made a few changes, and then pulled

  a face.

  "Yeats will no doubt spin in his grave, but maybe it will fly," the

  composer said as Uhura twitched the paper from his hands, and moved away to

  study the words in privacy.

  "Fortunately this isn't an English comp class," McCoy said. "Besides it

  might sound better in Thygetian."

  'T doubt it. You know how horrible things usually sound when they're

  translated."

  "Mr. Maslin, at this time esthetics are not-our major concern."

  "You're right, Spock, I'm sorry. I guess I'm just being sensitive." He gave

  a self-deprecating little smile. "But you can't really blame me. This is

  the first time that my music has ever been given quite such a premiere."

  "Let's do it," Uhura said, stepping back to the group. Her face was tight

  with Itrain.

  "We'll use a simple ABA form," he said to her. "This will be the basic

  theme." He turned to the instrument, and played a quick, agitated melody

  that seemed to embody the desperation of their plight. "We'll then modulate

  into minor for the central section, and then back to the major key when you

  ask them for help."

  "Play it one more time, please," Uhura said.

  He obliged, and Uhura stood with her eyes half-closed, one

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  The Tears of the Sh*ers

  hand beating time on her thigh, and occasionally humming through a tricky or

  difficult section. They finished, and Maslin gave her an inquiring look. She

  nodded and, gripping the verses tightly in one hand, stepped to the side of

  the synthesizer. He handed her a translator that was hooked to the memory

  banks of the synthesizer. Her sounds would be routed through the computer,

  translated into Thygetian, and sent on to the fistenmg cubs.

  A hush fell over the assembled people as they waited for this final,

  desperate test of their theory. The sun was just beginning to rise,

  touching the peaks of the crystal cliffs with opalescent fire, and turning

  the wind-tossed clouds into billowing masses of pink and amber.

  Maslin improvised an introduction, Uhura drew in a deep preparatory breath,

  and began to sing.

  Hear oh Singers, gather near Heed and help us in our hour. For

  danger threatens And death draws near.

  There was a convulsive stir from the cubs, and they began an agitated

  yelping that had little resemblance to their usual melodic murmurings.

  Uhura faltered, then picked up the melody and went on.

  In darkness, silent growing The rainbow colors dance and swirl All

  it touches are lost to living. Sun is threatened, soon it dies.

  She held out her hand, indicating the rising sun, and in the

  following verses tried to describe the phenomenon and its

  terrible power. She went on through the arrival of the

  Enterprise and the Klingons, the battle that had lost all the

  ships. By now the cubs were singing an agitated and complex

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  The Tears of the Singers

  counterpoint to her song that Spock was carefully recording on his

  tricorder. She reached the end, and made her plea for help with Guy and Kali

  joining their voices to hers.

  Maslin, making one last desperate attempt for understanding, reached out in

  some unexplainable fashion, and there was a moment of disorientation as he

  felt his mind met and captured by the Uygetian cubs. Music seemed to be

  hammering into his skull. He felt the world spirming about him, and pain

  exploded behind his eyes, but he hung on because he understood. They were

  somehow communicating.

  "Peoplel You are peoplel" came a musical cry from a cub. Guy looked down to

  find one of the brighter, more aggressive cubs reared up next to the

  synthesizer with his front flippers resting on the bench.

  Guy grabbed the translator out of Uhura's hands, ignoring her look of

  shock, for he was too busy searching about for the proper sounds. He had

  spent so much time with the Thygetian language that it was very familiar to

  him, and he had a very strong understanding of the tongue. Nonetheless, it

  was a very different matter to speak such a language, and he took his time,

  not wanting to make an err-or at this critical juncture.

  "Yes, we are people, " he sang while playing along with one hand on the

  synthesizer. "And we have come to help you."

  "But you are asking us for help, " the cub sang, puzzled.

  "Yes, that is true, for we have lost our people to the spaceltime vortex.

  But I tell you now that if our people do not return to find a solution to

  this danger all
of us will die. The vortex will eat the sun, and Taygeta

  will become a ball of ice. "

  "How can the sun not be? It would take the power of a thousand - to remove

  the sun. "

  Guy puzzled over the unfamiliar sound, but he had no framework, so he gave

  up on the missing word. "Nonetheless, it can be done. The vortex touches

  physical objects that exist in this space and time, and sweeps them into

  ... otherwhere, " he finally said for lack of a better word. "I myself have

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  this happen. The inner world that orbits next to the sun is 8one. " There

  was a howl of dismay from the cubs, and Maslin realized that whatever the

  Uygetians; might be they were definitely not primitives where astronomy was

  concerned. They were obviously very familiar with their own solar system.

  It took a long time, for there were moments when Guy simply couldn't

  understand, or times when he produced some odd sound that left the cubs

  totally bewildered. There was also the insatiable curiosity of the cubs

  themselves. They kept changing the subject and wandering far afield as they

  asked questions about the humans how they lived, where they had come fmm,

  how they had gotten there. Guy could have screamed with frustration, but he

  forced himself to be patient, knowing this was not the time for him to

  display anything other than the most even of tempers. At last the cubs

  seemed satisfied, and willing to return to the subject of the Enterprise.

  "So what is it you wish us to do?" the spokesman asked.

  "Do what you do with thefish, and the deserts, and the rain. And bring back

  our ships."

  "Show me what they look like.

  Guy gaped at the cub, and then looked desperately at Spock. He had been

  virtually oblivious to the other members of the landing party during his

  exchange with the cubs, and fortunately they hadn't interferred with him,

  but now he needed help. He struggled to free himself from the grip of the

  singers, and they reluctantly let go. When the release came he almost

  collapsed onto the keyhoard. Only Uhura's hands on his shoulders kept him

  from failing.

  "They need to know what the ships look like," he gasped, his body shaking