Star Trek - Blish, James - 08 Read online

  "Four of my men are freezing to death," Kirk said.

  "But there isn't one genuine shred of evidence to prove this animal died of fear! Shock? Yes. But fear? That's mere theory!"

  "Based on the laws of probability," Spock said.

  "Probability be hanged!" McCoy shouted. "It's Jim's life that's at stake! And all of a sudden you're an expert on fear! That's a base emotion, Mr. Spock. What do you know about it?"

  "I must remind you, Doctor, that I am half human," Spock said. "I am more aware than you of what it means to live with a divided spirit-of the suffering involved in possession of two separate selves. I survive it daily."

  "That may be-but a piece of machinery is the problem. What do the laws of probability say about the Transporter? Is it reliable? You don't know! It's just more theory, more hopeful guesswork!"

  Kirk said, "I am going through the Transporter with him."

  McCoy threw up his arms in a gesture of hopeless-ness. "You've got more guts than brains, Jim! Use your head, for God's sake!"

  "I'm getting my four men back on this ship," Kirk. said. "And we can't risk using that Transporter until we know whether this animal died of fear-or mechanical malfunction in the Transporter."

  "I want to save the men, too, Jim! But you're more vital to this ship than four crew members. That's the. brutal truth-and you know it!"

  Listening, Kirk felt his weakened will sink to its final depth of hesitation. "I have to-try. I must be allowed to try. If I don't try, their death is sure. So will mine be. I shall look alive, Bones. But I shall live as a half man. What good to this ship is a half man Captain?

  "Jim, do me one favor. Before you decide, let me run an autopsy on this animal."

  "Delay is too expensive," Kirk said.

  "At least give Spock more time to test the Trans-porter. And let me get the lab started on the autopsy." McCoy gathered up the dead animal in a sheet. "Wait, Jim, please wait." He hurried out of Sickbay.

  Spock said, "I'll put the Transporter through another check-out cycle as soon as the Doctor returns."

  Kirk whirled on him. "I don't need nursemaids, Mr. Spock!"

  "As soon as the Doctor returns." The six words too many, Spock thought. The weakened will had finally steeled itself to decision only to meet doubt, argument, pressure. Those last six words had been a mistake.

  "If you will excuse me, Captain," he said.

  Kirk nodded. He watched Spock go. Half human, Spock-but you never came to the end of his aware humanity. Gratitude heartened him to do what he had to do. He was turning toward Sickbay's bed section when Sulu's voice sounded from the wall speaker.

  "Kirk here, Mr. Sulu."

  The voice was a whisper. "Captain-the rocks are cold-no phasers left-one of us is unconscious-we can't hold out much longer." The communicator crackled. "Captain-the cold is freezing the communi-cator-no time left-no time..."

  The whisper fell silent. There was another crackle from the dead communicator. Kirk sank down on the double's bed. Four lives at risk on the fatal planet-two lives at risk in the Transporter process. There was no alternative.

  The double spoke fearfully. "What are you going to do?"

  Kirk didn't answer. He began to untie the cords of the restraining net over the bed. The double reached out and touched the phaser at his belt. "You don't need that," it said. "I'm not going to fight you any more. What are you going to do?"

  "We are going through the Transporter together," Kirk said.

  The double tensed. Then it controlled itself. "If that's what you want," it said.

  "It's what I have to want," Kirk said. He untied the last cord, stepped back and raised his phaser. Stagger-ing, the double got up. Then it leaned back against the bed for support. "I feel so weak," it said. "Ill be glad when this is over."

  "Let's go," Kirk said.

  The double moved toward the door; but on its first step it faltered, groaning. It tried again, staggered again-and Kirk instinctively reached out to help it. It saw its chance. Lunging, it drove its shoulder into Kirk, knocking him backward. The phaser dropped. It stooped for it. Recovering his balance, Kirk shouted, "No, no, you can't..."

  The phaser butt crashed into the side of his head. He fell back on the bed. The double paused to finger the scratches on its face. McCoy's medication covered them. It smiled to itself. Then it began to strap Kirk into the bed. "I'm you," it told him.

  Swaggering, it walked out into the corridor. At its end the elevator door slid open. Janice Rand was stand-ing inside it. At once it tempered its swagger to a quiet walk.

  "How are you, Yeoman Rand?"

  "Captain," the girl said nervously.

  It smiled at her. "Is that a question? No, I am not the impostor. Are you feeling better?"

  "Yes, sir. Thank you."

  "Good."

  Maybe it was her opportunity, Janice thought. She'd done this man a grave injustice. "Captain," she said, "I've wanted to apologize. If I caused you..."

  She got Kirk's own grin. "That's a big word-'if.' I understand, Yeoman. I hope you do. I owe you, I think, a personal explanation."

  "No," she said. "It's I who owe you..."

  "Let's call it a clarification, then," the double said. "I trust your discretion. There was no impostor, not real-ly. The Transporter malfunctioned. It seems to have created a duplicate of me. It's hard to understand be-cause we haven't yet determined what went wrong. But what we do know I'll explain to you later. You're entitled to that. All right?"

  Bewildered, she nodded. "All right, sir."

  The elevator door opened. Politely, the double stepped back, gesturing her forward. As the elevator; moved on up to the bridge deck, it shouted with laugh-ter. Slamming its hand against the elevator wall, it yelled, "My ship! Mine-all mine!"

  The sight of Kirk's command chair intoxicated it. As it settled back into it, a frowning Farrell spoke from the navigation console; "No word from Mr. Sulu, Cap-tain."

  It ignored the comment; and Spock, hurrying over to the command chair, said, "Captain, I couldn't find you in the Transporter Room."

  "I changed my mind," the double said. "Take your station, Mr. Spock." It didn't look at the Vulcan.

  Spock walked slowly back to his computer. It was a very sudden change of mind for a mind that had strug-gled so valiantly for decision.

  "Prepare to leave orbit, Mr. Farrell!"

  If the order had commanded activation of the Destruct unit, its impact could not have been more de-vastating. Farrell stared in stark unbelief. The double became abruptly aware that every eye in the bridge was fixed on it.

  "Captain-" Farrell began.

  "I gave you an order, Mr. Farrell."

  "I know, sir, but what-what about... ?"

  "They can't be saved. They're dead now." Its voice rose. "Prepare to leave orbit, Mr. Farrell!"

  "Yes, sir." Farrell's hand was moving toward a switch when the elevator opened. Kirk and McCoy stepped out of it. There were badly covered scratches on Kirk's face but the hand that held the phaser was steady. The double leaped from the command chair. "There's the impostor," it shouted. "Grab him!"

  Nobody moved.

  "You are the impostor," McCoy said.

  "Don't believe him!" the double shrieked. "Take them both! Grab them!"

  Kirk, McCoy beside him, walked on toward the command chair. Spock, reaching out a hand, halted McCoy, shaking his head. McCoy nodded-and Kirk moved on, alone.

  "You want me dead, don't you? You want this ship all to yourself! But it's mine!"

  Farrell had jumped from his chair. Spock touched his shoulder. "This is the Captain's private business," he said.

  Kirk maintained his slow advance toward the mad-dened thing. It backed up, slow step by slow step, screaming.

  "I am Captain Kirk, you ship of pigs! All right, let the liar destroy you all! He's already killed four of you! I run this ship! I own it. I own you-all of you!"

  Kirk fired his phaser. The double crumpled to the deck, stunned.

  "Spock
, Bones," he said quietly. "Quickly, please."

  Kirk had already taken up his position on the Trans-porter platform when they laid the unconscious body at his feet.

  "You'll have to hold it, Captain," Spock said.

  Kirk sat down on the platform. He lifted the drooping head to his shoulder, an arm around the flaccid waist. Then he looked up.

  "Mr. Spock..."

  "Yes, sir."

  "If this doesn't work..."

  "Understood, sir."

  "Jim!" McCoy burst out. "Jim, don't do it! Not yet! In God's name, wait!"

  "The console, Mr. Spock," Kirk said.

  Spock's half-human part had taken him over. This could be good-bye to Kirk. At the console, he bowed his head over his treacherously shaking hands. When he lifted it, his face was calm, impassive.

  "I am energizing, sir."

  He saw Kirk draw the double closer to him. In the glow that lit the platform, he knew that he was seeing the embrace of an acknowledged, irrevocable brother--hood. Unfaltering, Spock reversed the console's con-trols. The hum of dematerialization rose. There was dazzle-and silence.

  McCoy ran to the platform. Kirk stood on it, alone.

  "Jim-Jim?" McCoy cried.

  "Hello, Bones," Kirk said. He walked off the empty platform and over to the console. "Mr. Spock," he said, "let's get those men of ours up and aboard."

  Spock swallowed. "Yes, Captain. At once, sir."

  It wasn't done at once. It was twenty minutes before the Transporter platform surrendered its burden of the four bodies to the eager hands awaiting them.

  McCoy rose from his last examination. "They'll make it, Jim. Those rocks they heated saved their lives. They're all suffering from severe frostbite-but I think they'll make it."

  The pallor of Kirk's face suddenly struck him. "How do you feel, Jim?"

  There was a new sadness in Kirk's smile. "What's that old expression? 'Sadder but wiser.' I feel sadder, Bones, but much less wise."

  "Join the human race, Jim," McCoy said.

  There was a sense of quiet thanksgiving as Kirk en-tered the bridge. His first move was over to Spock at the computer station. "You know, of course," he said, "I could never have made it without you."

  "Thank you, Captain. What do you plan to tell the crew?"

  "The truth, Mr. Spock-that the impostor was put back where he belongs."

  Janice Rand approached him. "I just wanted to say, Captain, how-glad I am that..."

  "Thank you, Yeoman." Kirk returned to his com-mand chair. The girl watched him go. Spock watched the girl.

  "That impostor," he said, "had some very interesting qualities. And he certainly resembled the Captain. You agree, I'm sure, Yeoman Rand."

  She had flushed scarlet. But she met his quizzical eyes with courage. "Yes, Mr. Spock. The impostor had some exceedingly interesting qualities."

  CATSPAW

  (Robert Bloch)

  The persistent static crackling from Lieutenant Uhura's communications panel was just the minor worry presented by the planet Pyris VII. A dark and forbid-ding star it had shown itself to be ever since the Enter-prise had entered its orbit-a chunk of black granite hurled into space to no ostensible purpose, lightless, lifeless except for members of the Starship's landing party beamed down to it for routine investigation and check-in reports. That was the big worry-the absence of any check-in reports. Yet Scott, Sulu and crewman Jackson were all aware of standard landing-group procedure. They knew it required an hourly check-in from any team assigned to explore an unknown planet.

  Uhura looked up at Kirk. "Still no response, sir."

  "Keep it open."

  He frowned at another burst of static from the com-munications panel. "I don't like this. Nothing since the first check-in. Scott and Sulu should have contacted us half an hour ago."

  Spock said, "Perhaps they have nothing to report. Though Pyris VII is a Class M planet capable of sus-taining humanoid life, our own people are the only evidence of it our sensors have been able to pick up."

  "Nevertheless, Scott and Sulu are obliged to check in, regardless of whether they have anything official to report. Why don't they answer?"

  Uhura adjusted a control. A look of relief came into her face. "Contact established, Captain."

  Kirk seized the audio. Jackson's voice said, "Jackson to Enterprise."

  "Kirk here."

  "One to beam up, sir."

  "One? Jackson, where are Scott and Sulu?"

  "I'm ready to beam up, sir."

  "Jackson! Where are-" A roar of static over-whelmed his words. Uhura tried to control it; and failed. "I'm sorry, sir. I can't clear it."

  "All right," said Kirk. "Notify Transporter Room to prepare to beam up one member of the landing party. Have Dr. McCoy report to me in Transporter Room on the double."

  "Yes, sir."

  It was the measure of their anxiety that Kirk and Spock both ran for the elevator. They opened the door of the Transporter Room to the steady, throbbing hum of thrown switches.

  "Ready, sir," the technician said.

  "Energize!" The humming rose to a keening pitch and McCoy hurried in with his medikit.

  "What's on, Jim?"

  "Trouble."

  The Transporter platform glowed into dazzle. Then its sparkle gathered into the full figure of crewman Jackson. He stood, stiff and unmoving, his face wiped clean of all expression, his eyes unseeing, fixed in a glassy stare. The hum of materialization faded. Kirk strode to the platform. "Jackson! What happened? Where are the others?"

  The mouth moved as though preparing to speak. But Jackson didn't speak. The mouth twisted into a grim-ace-and Jackson, pitching forward, toppled to the floor.

  Kneeling beside him, McCoy looked up at Kirk. He shook his head. "The man's dead, Jim."

  Kirk stared down at the body. Its glassy eyes were still fixed on nothing. Then, horribly, the jaw dropped and the mouth opened. Out of it spoke a voice, deep, harsh, guttural. "Captain Kirk, you hear me. There is a curse on your ship. Leave this star. It is death that waits for you here..."

  There was a moment of appalled stillness. Jackson's dead mouth still yawned open. But his lips had not moved.

  At his desk in Sickbay, McCoy leaned his head on his hand. He didn't look up as Kirk opened the door. Shoulders sagged, he pushed wearily at a heap of tape cartridges in front of him.

  "Well?" Kirk said.

  McCoy lifted a handful of the cartridges. Then he dropped them. "These are the reports of every test I've run. There's no sign of any injury, none. No organic damage, internal or external."

  Kirk was silent for a stretched moment. Scott and Sulu-they were still down there on the planet that had returned a dead man to the Enterprise; a dead man whose mouth had been used by that awful voice. "Then why is Jackson dead, Bones?"

  "He froze to death," McCoy said.

  Spock had quietly joined them. "That doesn't seem reasonable, Doctor," he said. "The climate of Pyris VII approximates that of Earth's central Western hemi-sphere during the summer solstice."

  McCoy said irritably, "I know that, Spock. But rea-sonable or unreasonable, Jackson froze to death. He was literally dead on his feet when he materialized in the Transporter Room."

  "He was about to speak," Kirk said.

  "He was dead, I tell you!" McCoy shouted.

  "Someone spoke." Kirk slowly shook his head. "There seems to be a good deal more to that planet than our sensors have been able to detect! With Scott and Sulu virtually marooned down there..."

  He was interrupted by the buzzing intercom on McCoy's desk. He hit the switch. "Kirk here."

  Uhura, her voice urgent, said, "Sir, we've lost all traces of Mr. Scott and Mr. Sulu. The sensors no longer register any indication of life on the planet's surface. That's Mr. Farrell's last report."

  "Well," said Kirk, "that tears it." He paused. "Thank you, Lieutenant. Have Mr. Farrell maintain sensor scan." He snapped off the intercom. "Spock, Bones, get your gear together for a landing party. We're beaming dow
n to find them."

  Fog was what they found. Clammy swirls of it drift-ed around them as they materialized on a twilight world of rock, barren, desolate. From the craggy knoll they stood on, no green was visible-just a gray vista of mist that moved sluggishly, only to reveal more mist, more rock, black fields, black hills of rock.