Star Trek - Blish, James - 08 Page 5
"I-Captain, this isn't-" she stammered.
"You're too much woman not to know," the double said. "I've been mad for you since the day you joined the ship. We both know what's been inside us all this time. We can't say no to it-not any more, not when we're finally alone, just you and me. Just try to deny it-after this... "
It swept her into its arms, kissing her hard on the lips. For a moment she was immobilized by the shock. Then she pulled back. "Please, Captain. You-we..."
The handsome face tightened with anger. She was kissed again harshly; and with a little moan, she tried to pull free. She was jerked closer. Now the kisses pressed against her throat, her neck.
"You're-hurting me," she whispered.
"Then don't fight me. You know you don't want to."
She stared into what she thought were Kirk's eyes. In some shameful way it was true. She didn't want to fight the Captain's kisses. Only how dare he presume to know it?
"Shall I make that an order, Yeoman Rand?"
This time the kiss on her mouth was openly brutal. Janice, infuriated by exposure of a truth she wanted neither to know herself nor be known to anyone else, began to fight in earnest. She scratched the double across its handsome face. It pulled back; and she dashed for the door. She was grabbed as it opened-but out in the corridor, Fisher, returning to his room with the antiseptic liquid he'd forgotten, had seen the struggling pair.
"On your way!" It was Kirk's command voice.
Relief surged through Janice. The Captain had im-plicated himself in this disgraceful scene. If there was penalty to pay in loss of his crew's respect, he'd have only himself to blame. She screamed, "Call Mr. Spock!"
Fisher gaped at her. "Call Mr. Spock!" she screamed again. Fisher broke into a run. The double tightened its hold on her. Then, realizing how the witness menaced it, it rushed out into the corridor.
Fisher made it to a wall intercom. "This is Fisher of Geology! Come to Deck 12, Section..."
The double caught him in midsentence. Fisher was spun around to take a smashing right to his jaw. It was his turn to scream. "Help! Section 3!"
The scream came through to the bridge. Spock bolted for the elevator, shouting "Take over!" to navi-gator Farrell.
Deck 12 was deserted. Spock hesitated. Then, start-ing down the corridor, he slowed his run to a wary walk, his sharp Vulcan eyes searching. After a mo-ment, he stooped to run a finger along a dark streak on the flooring. When he looked at the finger, it was red, wet with blood.
Its trail of drops led to the quarters of Yeoman Rand. He opened the door. She was sitting on a chair, her uniform disheveled, her eyes blank, stunned. Near her, Fisher lay on the floor. She didn't speak as Spock bent down to him. His face was a mass of mangled flesh and blood.
"Who did this to you?" Spock asked. Fisher's torn lips moved. "Captain Kirk," he whis-pered. Then he subsided into unconsciousness.
Kirk asked his question very quietly. "And Yeoman Rand says I assaulted her?"
"Yes, sir," Spock said. "And technician Fisher also accuses you of assault upon her and himself."
"I've been here in my quarters for the past half hour," Kirk said.
Spock held up the nearly empty brandy bottle.
"What's that?" Kirk said.
"The bottle of brandy Dr. McCoy says you took from his office cabinet. I found it in Yeoman Rand's room with Fisher."
"McCoy says I took that brandy?" The whirling in Kirk's head had come back. He shut his eyes against its wheeling stars. Then he rose. "Let's find out what's going on in this ship." He moved past Spock into the corridor.
The elevator door closed behind them-and the dou-ble, a darker shadow in the shadows of a cross passage, slipped quietly out into the corridor. Panting, it pried at the door of Kirk's quarters. It got it open. Inside, the lock on the panel of the sleeping compartment caught its eye. It depressed the unlocking button. It relocked the panel behind it and fell across the bed, sighing with exhaustion. Then it buried the replica of Kirk's face in a pillow to shut out the sights and sounds of a world that hated it.
In Sickbay, Yeoman Rand was saying, "Then he kissed me-and said we-that he was the Captain and could order me to-" Her eyes were on her cold hands, safer to look at than Kirk's face. She had addressed her words to Spock.
"Go on," Kirk said.
She looked at him now. "I-I didn't know what to do. When you started talking about-us-about the feeling we've been-hiding all this time..."
"The feeling you and I have been hiding, Yeoman Rand?" Kirk said. "Do I understand you correctly?"
"Yes, sir." In desperation she twisted around to McCoy. "He is the Captain, Doctor! I couldn't just-" Her face tightened. "I couldn't talk to you!" she burst out at Kirk. "I had to fight you, scratch your face and kick and..."
"Yeoman Rand," Kirk said. He went over to her, pretending not to notice how she shrank from his ap-proach. "Look at me! Look at my face! Do you see any scratches on it?"
"No, sir," she whispered.
"I have been in my quarters, Yeoman. How could I have been with you and in my own quarters at one and the same time?"
She wrung her hands. "But-" Her voice broke. "I know what happened. And it was you. I-I don't want to get you into trouble. I wouldn't even have mentioned it if technician Fisher hadn't seen you, too, and..."
"Yeoman," Kirk said, "it wasn't me!"
She began to cry. She looked very small, very young in her rumpled uniform. Kirk reached out a compas-sionate hand to her shoulder-but she shied away from his touch as though it might burn her.
Spock said, "You can go now, Yeoman."
Sobbing, she got to her feet. As she reached the door, Kirk said, "Yeoman." She stopped. "It was not me," he repeated. But she went on out the door without looking back.
Spock broke the silence. "Captain, there is an impos-tor aboard this ship."
It was to be expected from Spock. Faith to the end-that was Spock. Kirk pulled his uniform collar away from his neck as though it were choking him. After a moment he went to the door of Sickbay's treatment room where McCoy had gone back to work on the battered Fisher. He was busy, of course; too busy with Fisher to look at him. But the prone Fisher looked at him from the sheeted table-and in his eyes there was open scorn.
The intercom buzzed; and Scott said, "Captain, can we see you in the Transporter Room for a minute?"
Kirk took the scalding memory of Fisher's look with him. If Spock hadn't silently joined him, he wondered if he'd have found the courage to respond to Scott's call. Had he, too, heard the interesting details of his Captain's recent activities? But Scott's total concern seemed to be the still defective Transporter. He looked up from the console as Kirk entered. "It's a complete breakdown, Captain." He turned his head to say to his technicians, "Continue circuit testing." The meek, doglike creature collected from the planet was lying beside the console. Scott pointed to it. "We beamed this animal up to the ship, sir, and..."
"And what?" Kirk said.
Scott paused. "The animal is here. But it's also over there in that specimen case."
He left the console to go over to the case with Kirk and Spock. A fierce growl greeted them. Scott cautious-ly lifted the lid. The beast inside bared its teeth, its lips flecked with the foam of its fury. Scott hastily dropped the lid over its leap at them.
"It appears to be the twin of the other animal," Spock said slowly. "Except for the difference in tem-perament, they might be one and the same."
Scott had hurried back to the console to pick up the quiet creature. Stroking it, he said, "A few seconds after they sent this one up through the Transporter, that duplicate of it appeared on the platform. If this had happened to a man-it's some kind of opposite."
The intentness on Kirk's face was naked. Scott went on. "One beast gentle like this-and one savage, wolfish, this one and that one-some land of ferocious opposite. Captain, till we know what's gone wrong with the Transporter, we dare not use it to beam up the landing party!"
"Oh, my God..."
The whisper was wrenched from Kirk by the force of sudden revelation. It was no impostor who was loose on the Enterprise. What was loose on it was his own counterpart-the dark, brutish aspect of human nature which every mortal carries within him from birth to the grave. His Cain was roaming the Enterprise in a mind-less, murderous search for a vengeance that would appease the bitterness of years of denial-the years it had spent as a prisoner of conscience, of duty, of responsibility. Somehow it had got free from its embod-iment in him, and wearing his face, using his voice, wandering his ship, had found its release.
He gradually became conscious of Spock's eyes. The Vulcan had taken the lamb-gentle animal into his arms. Something in the way he held it stilled the turmoil in Kirk's soul. He was able to speak.
"Do you know what caused the animal to divide in two, Scotty?"
"We think we do, sir. When Fisher came up, his clothes were splashed with some soft, yellowish stuff. He said it was ore. Some of it fell on the Transporter platform. When we scanned it, we found it contained unknown magnetic elements. Maybe it caused an over-load. We can't tell-not yet."
"Is the Transporter working at all?" "Yes, sir. But to use it to bring up the landing party-they might all be duplicated like you-" He caught himself. "Like the animal, Captain."
So Scott had heard. "How long will it take to locate the trouble?"
"Can't say, sir."
Kirk fought for calm, for reason. "We can't just leave those four men down there. They'll freeze to death. At night that planet's temperature sinks to 250 degrees below zero."
"We're doing everything we can, Captain!" Kirk looked at the Transporter platform. What was the secret it refused to divulge? He'd emerged from it whole, unsplit, a thousand tunes. Why not this last time? What had happened? When and how had he been divided in two halves like a one-celled organism repro-ducing itself? The whirling in his head was back once more. And the platform looked back at him, empty, its secret still withheld.
Spock had come to stand beside him. "About this double of yours, Captain."
Kirk started like a man aroused from nightmare. "Yes, we've got to find him. Search parties, Mr. Spock -we've got to organize search parties."
"We can't risk killing it," Spock said. "We have no data-no way of knowing the effect of its death on you."
So Spock understood. "Yes, that's right," Kirk said. "We don't know that-but the men must be armed. All men to be armed with phasers locked to the stun set-ting. He's to be taken without-if anyone fixes to kill, he won't die-it's not the way to get rid of him..."
Spock noted the breaks between thoughts and words. They were disjointed, disorganized. No, there was no doubt. This Kirk was not the integrated, decisive Kirk he knew.
"It will be difficult to order the search parties to capture a being who so closely resembles you, Cap-tain."
"Tell them-" Kirk looked at him helplessly. "I'd better make an announcement to the entire crew-tell them what's happened as well as I can. It's a good crew-they deserve to be told."
"I must object, sir," Spock said. "You are the Cap-tain of this ship. You cannot afford to appear vulner-able in the eyes of your crew. It is your damnable fate to have to seem perfect to them. I'm sorry, sir. Yet that is the fact. They lose their confidence in you-and you lose your command."
Kirk pressed, his forehead between his hands. "I know that, Mr. Spock. Why did I forget it?" He turned away, then stopped without looking back. "If you see me slipping again, your order is to tell me so."
"Yes, Captain."
His back stiff, Kirk walked out of the Transporter Room. In the bridge he touched the back of his com-mand chair before he took his position in it. Command -no weakness, no fault, no hesitation. Bracing himself for the front of perfection, he flicked on his intercom. "This is the Captain speaking. There is an impostor aboard this ship-a man who looks exactly like me and is pretending to be me. The man is dangerous. Utmost caution is to be observed. All crew members are to arm themselves. The impostor may be identified by scratches on his face."
The message reached the double. It sat up quickly on Kirk's bed. "Repeat," came the voice from the intercom. "The impostor may be identified by scratches on his face. Search parties will report to Mr. Spock for assignment. All hand phasers will be set to stun force. The impostor is not to be injured. Repeat. The impostor is not to be injured."
The double touched the scratches on its face. Then it got up to go to the mirror and stare at its reflection. "Impostor!" it muttered to itself. "I'm Kirk!" it shouted at Kirk's image on the intercom viewing screen. A gust of fury shook it. It seized a metal box from the dresser and hurled it at the screen. The sound of crashing glass frightened it. "I'm Kirk," it whimpered to its reflection in the mirror. The scratches showed red, unhealed. To examine them more closely, it pushed aside a jar of medicated cream. The loosened lid fell off. The double dug its fingers into the cream, looked once more at the scratches and began to rub the cream into them. It made them feel better. It also hid the weals. The double grunted with satisfaction. It was dabbing more of the concealing cream into the cuts when it heard running sounds from the corridor outside.
When the sounds had gone, it unlocked the door. Moving out into the working area of Kirk's quarters, it slid its entrance panel half open. Wilson, carrying some Transporter equipment, was hurrying down the cor-ridor.
"Wilson!" the double called. "Come here!"
Wilson came.
"Give me your weapon belt!"
"Yes, sir."
As he handed over the belt, Wilson saw the smeared cream on its face. But his suspicion came too late. The double had the phaser out of the belt. It struck him on the jaw with its butt. When Wilson fell, it stooped to pound his jaw with the heavy butt. Then it dragged him into Kirk's cabin. The bloody phaser still in hand, it nodded to itself-and walked casually out into the corridor.
Down on the planet's surface it was growing dark. Sulu and his three crewmen were gathering rocks to erect a wall against the rising wind. Frost had already whitened the dismal landscape as far as they could see.
Over his communicator, Kirk said, "Mr. Sulu, how is the rock shelter coming?"
"It's a compliment to these rocks, sir, to call them a shelter. It's down to 50 below zero now, Captain."
They were not equipped with thermal clothing. It was hard to say, "Kirk out." He might better have said, "Kirk down and out." That was the truth. In his com-mand chair, he had to steady himself against another attack of vertigo. "We've got to get those men up!" he said to Spock. But Spock was taking a report from one of his search parties. "Deck 5 Sections 2 and 3 com-pletely covered now, sir. Result, negative. Proceeding to Sections 4 and 5."
"Acknowledged," Spock said and flicked off his au-dio-but only to flick it on again to another intercom call.
"Search party number eight, sir. Transporter techni-cian Wilson has just been found crawling out of the Captain's cabin. He's been badly beaten. He says the impostor attacked him, called him by his name and took his phaser."
"Get him to Sickbay," Spock said. "Then continue your search."
"We must locate this-this opposite of mine before he-" Kirk broke off. "But how, Spock, how?"
"It is apparent, sir, that it possesses your knowledge of the ship, its crew and devices. That being so, perhaps we can foresee its next move. Knowing how this ship is constructed, where would you go to elude a mass search, Captain?"
For the first time since his disaster, Kirk spoke with-out hesitation. "The lower level. The Engineering deck. Let's go!"
In the elevator Spock removed his phaser from his belt. Without looking at Kirk, he said, "I'm setting this, not to the kill cycle, but to the stun one, sir. What about your phaser?" Kirk took the hint; and Spock said, "This thing is dangerous. Don't you think we'll need some help if we find it?"
The torture of indecision was back. Finally Kirk said, "No. If we find him, I don't want anyone else around but you." He had stepped out of the elevator when Spock called, "Capta
in!"
Kirk turned.
Spock said, "You ordered me to tell you..."
"I said no, Mr. Spock. No one but you."
The lower level of the Engineering deck held the vast complex that powered the Enterprise. It was a cavern of shadows, broken by glints of gleaming ma-chinery, its passageways narrowing, widening, nar-rowing again to crisscross other passages. The droning hum of its huge nuclear energizers reverberated against its metal walls. Suddenly, as he rounded a dynamo, Spock realized he was alone. He turned to retrace his steps in hope of locating Kirk again.