Star Trek - Blish, James - 08 Page 8

  "Odd," Kirk said. "Our probe data didn't indicate fog."

  "Odd, indeed," Spock agreed. "No bodies of water. No cloud formations. No variations in surface tempera-ture. Under such conditions, fog is impossible." He had unslung his tricorder and was taking readings.

  "It was impossible for Jackson to freeze to death in this climate," McCoy said. "Yet that's what happened. By the way, just where are we?"

  "According to Transporter Room coordinates, this is the exact spot from which Jackson was beamed up to the ship," Spock said. "Readings, Mr. Spock?"

  "No indication of-wait! I'm picking up a life forms reading at 14 degrees mark 7-distance 137.16 me-ters." He looked up from the tricorder. "Multiple read-ings, Captain!"

  Astonished, Kirk snapped on his communicator. "Kirk to Enterprise"

  Static distorted Uhura's voice. "Enterprise, Captain."

  "How do the ship's sensors read now, Lieutenant?"

  "All we're getting are physical impulses from you, Mr. Spock and Dr. McCoy, sir. There's nothing else alive down there."

  The static almost obliterated her last words. "I can hardly hear you, Lieutenant," Kirk said. "Can you hear me?"

  His communicator cracked with a crash of static. Disgusted, Kirk snapped it off and was returning it to his belt when McCoy said, "The fog's getting thicker. Maybe it accounts for the interference."

  It was getting thicker. Fog rolled around them so dense now that they could scarcely see each other. "There has to be some explanation for the disparity in the readings," Kirk said. "Ours are the only life forms picked up by the ship's sensors but Spock's tricorder registers multiple forms. Do your readings still hold, Mr. Spock?"

  "No change, sir."

  "Phasers on the ready," Kirk said.

  Then they all heard it-a high-pitched wailing. Faint at first, it grew in volume to a mournful shrieking. "They must have heard us," McCoy whispered.

  "Quiet, Bones!"

  McCoy gripped Kirk's arm as he pointed with the other hand. Ahead of them the coiling fog had begun to glow with a greenish, sickly luminescence. Then it gathered, shaping itself into three cloudy faces, vaguely featured, indistinct, wrinkled by a hundred years. Elf locks of wispy white hair hung about them, their sex as blurred as their features. One of the faces spoke.

  "Captain Kirk..."

  Its long-drawn-out whine had the same creepy cadence as the wailing.

  Kirk stepped forward. "Who are you?"

  "Go baaack-" wailed the toothless mouth.

  The mist was sending the bodiless faces in and out of focus.

  "Winds shall rise," one of them whimpered

  "And fogs descend..."

  "Death is here..."

  On a cackle of rheumy laughter, the faces suddenly came apart. Then they dissolved into mist.

  Quiet; unmoved, Spock said, "Illusion, Captain." He lowered his tricorder. "They contained neither physical substance nor energy. It may have been a projection of some sort."

  "Shakespeare wrote of a blasted heath," Kirk said. "And of warning witches. But why should these have appeared to us? None of us care to become the King of Scotland. Spock, did the life form readings change dur-ing that little encounter?"

  "They remained the same, Captain."

  Kirk nodded. "That may be part of our answer."

  They moved on-and an abrupt gust of wind whis-tled past them. It grew stronger. It should have tattered the fog into shreds. It didn't. The stuff became clammi-er, more blinding. The wind now rose to a gale force that compelled them to turn their backs to it, clinging to each other for support. "Hang on!" Kirk shouted. As though the words were some form of exorcism, the wind was gone as suddenly as it had come.

  Panting, McCoy said, "That was one very realistic illusion." He drew a deep lungful of breath. Then, incredulously, he whispered, "Jim-ahead of us-there..."

  It looked like the keep of a medieval castle. It reared itself up before them, huge, bartlemented, its masonry of massive stones hoary with age. Its great oaken door, beamed and iron-bound, was slightly ajar. On one of the worn steps that led up to it crouched a sleek black cat. A glittering gold chain was hung around its neck. As they approached it, they saw that a translucent crystal pendant was attached to the chain. The pose of the cat suggested it was waiting for something. Mice, perhaps.

  Spock said, "This is the source of the life forms reading, Captain. They are inside somewhere."

  Kirk tried to use his communicator again, only to be defeated by an explosion of static. Once more he hung it back on his belt.

  "Is this how we lost contact with the first landing party?" McCoy wondered.

  "What about that, Spock?" Kirk put it to him. "Does this apparent castle have anything to do with the stat-ic?"

  The Vulcan consulted his tricorder. "I would say not, sir. There's no evidence of anything that would directly cause the interference. Both the castle and the cat are equally real."

  "Or unreal," Kirk said. "Some illusions can manifest themselves in solid substance. Why didn't our sensors pick up this castle? And why didn't they register the life forms inside it?" He looked up, frowning, at a turreted wall. "It could be exerting a force field that has cut off our sensor scan."

  "Then it would also affect Spock's tricorder, wouldn't it?" McCoy asked.

  "Would it? I'm beginning to wonder-" It was as Kirk spoke the last words that the cat mewed, rose gracefully and disappeared through the partly open door. Lost, it seemed, in some private speculation, he watched it go. Then pulling himself out of it briskly, "Well," he said, "if Scott and Sulu are anywhere around, this is the most likely place. Come on."

  Phasers in hand, they pushed the door open. A squeaking shrilled over their heads-and a cloud of bats swooped through the door, chittering, their leathery wings almost brushing their faces.

  Ducking, McCoy cried, "What the devil was that?"

  "Desmodus rufus," Spock said. "Vampire bats."

  "That's an Earth species," Kirk said. The cat, mov-ing restlessly before them, mewed again as it turned into the darkness beyond the doorway. He looked after it, the look of private thoughtfulness back on his face. "And so is the cat an Earth species. The plot thickens. Castles, black cats, vampire bats and witches. If we weren't missing two live officers and a dead crewman, I'd say someone was putting on an elaborate Halloween trick or treat."

  "Trick or treat, Captain?"

  "An old Earth custom, Mr. Spock. Explanation later."

  The castle walls appeared to be hewn from solid rock. The cat padded silently ahead of Kirk as he and the others groped along the chilly corridor. It was dim, its uncertain light provided by occasional torches whose flames flared and ebbed above their iron sconces, cob-webbed and rusty.

  "Dust. Cobwebs. Halloween is right," McCoy said.

  The cat slipped around a corner into a darker cor-ner. As they followed, the floor gave way beneath them, and they were plunged into blackness.

  Kirk was the first to recover his senses. Someone with a bizarre sense of humor had arranged to place a spiked Iron Maiden right before him. The skull of the human skeleton inside it grinned at him. He refused to be horrified. What concerned him was the discovery that he was shackled to the dungeon's wall. So were Spock and McCoy. Then he realized that all their equipment-phasers, communicators, tricorders-had been removed.

  "Mr. Spock..."

  The Vulcan stirred in his fetters. "I am undamaged, Captain."

  "Is Bones all right?"

  McCoy spoke for himself. "Nothing broken-just a lot of bruises. What was that you said about trick or treat, Jim?"

  "Curses, dungeons, Iron Maidens, skeletons. The point is, these are all Earth manifestations. Why?"

  "The tricorder registered this castle as real, Jim." McCoy rattled his chains. "And these are no illusion. This place could be an Earth parallel."

  "But it would be a parallel only of Earth supersti-tion, Doctor," Spock said. "Something that exists only in the minds of men."

  "Exactly," Kirk said
. "It's as though-" He broke off. Muffled footsteps had sounded from the corridor outside. A key scraped in the dungeon's lock; to Kirk's astounded relief, its heavy door was swung open by Scott and Sulu.

  "Scotty! Sulu! You're safe!"

  There was no sign of responsive joy on either of their faces. Silent, stone-faced, Scott pulled a phaser from his belt-and leveled it at them.

  "Scotty," Kirk said, "put that phaser down!"

  Unmoving, unblinking, Scott maintained the phaser at aim.

  "Scott!" Kirk shouted.

  "Jim, I think they've been drugged. Look at their eyes-no nictation. They don't blink at all."

  "Neither did Jackson," Spock said.

  "These two are alive! Scotty, Sulu-do you know who I am?"

  Sulu nodded.

  "What's happened to you?" Kirk demanded.

  For answer, Sulu shuffled past him to lean over McCoy. While Scott covered the Enterprise physician with the phaser, Sulu selected a key from a bunch he was carrying on a ring, and inserted it in the bolt's lock that bound the chains to McCoy's arms. Watching, Kirk said, "They're just taking off the chains, Bones. They're not going to let us go. Are you?"

  Silence. In absolute silence, their manacles were unlocked. At the dungeon door, Sulu motioned them into the corridor. Gauging Scott's distance behind him, Kirk whirled around to throw a punch at his jaw. The butt of the phaser caught him in the temple. As he stumbled to his knees, Spock jumped Scott and McCoy made a leap for the unarmed Sulu. But even as they touched them, their faces were lit by the sickly greenish light- and they dissolved into it.

  "Stop!"

  It was the voice that had spoken through the dead mouth of Jackson.

  They stopped. The green glow seemed to have dis-solved the corridor and the dungeon, too. All that was familiar was the strangeness of Scott and Sulu. They had reappeared, as unblinking, as blank-faced as be-fore. Everything else was new.

  And old. The large chamber to which they'd some-how been transported was heavy with medieval mag-nificence. Dark tapestries covered its walls. The flare of its sconced torches shone on the bare surface of a huge table, flanked by high-backed chairs. But Kirk's eyes had fixed on a man. He sat on an ornately carved chair, set on a dais that was canopied by a domelike structure. He was bearded, and the long robe he wore glittered with the gold-embroidered symbols of the Zo-diac. The black wand he held was topped by a dazzling crystal ball. The cat was stretched out at his feet.

  Kirk strode up to the chair. "Whoever you are, you've proved your skill at creating illusions. Now what I want to know is what you have done to my men."

  The man leaned forward. "Your race owns a ridicu-lous predilection for resistance. You question every-thing. Is it not sufficient for you to accept what is?"

  "Not when one of my men is dead and two others have been turned into mindless..."

  "Not mindless, Captain Kirk. The live ones are mere-ly-controlled."

  Spock and McCoy had made startled movements at the man's use of Kirk's name. They were noted. "Yes, we know you, all of you. Don't we, my precious?" He lowered a hand to stroke the cat.

  "Who are you?" Kirk demanded. "Why did you bring us here?"

  The bearded mouth smiled. "My name is Korob. As for bringing you here, you insisted upon coming. You were warned away from here."

  "For what reason?" Kirk waved a hand that em-braced all the mystic trappings of the room and the man. "What is all this-farce about?"

  "Farce? I assure you, it is not that, Captain."

  Spock spoke. "Clearly, you are unfamiliar with your planet, Korob."

  The piercing eyes searched the Vulcan's face. "What did you say?"

  "No life exists on your planet," Spock said. "Map-ping expeditions have charted this solar system. Their scientific surveys prove that no life forms have ever lived where you appear to live."

  The cat stirred, mewing. Lids lowered over the pierc-ing eyes. "That we are not native to this planet is of no importance," Korob said softly.

  "It's important to the Federation," Kirk said. "What are you doing here?"

  "All in good time, Captain." The cat mewed again, and Korob bent his head as though listening to a secret message. When he raised it, he said, "You must forgive me. I have been an inattentive host. You will join me in something with which to refresh yourselves." Followed by the cat, he rose to lead the way toward the empty table.

  "That cat-" McCoy said quietly.

  "Yes," Spock said. "It reminds me of certain ancient Earth legends concerning wizards and their 'familiars'- demons in animal form sent by Satan to serve the wizards."

  "Superstition," Kirk said.

  "I did not create the legends, Captain. I merely repeat them."

  Korob turned. "You are the different one, Mr. Spock. There are no colors in your patterns of logic. You think only in terms of black and white. You see all this around you. Yet you do not believe in it."

  "He doesn't know about trick or treat," McCoy said.

  Korob smiled faintly. "I see." He waved toward the empty table. "But, gentlemen, please join me at din-ner."

  Nobody moved. Scott and Sulu made a menacing move, Scott lifting the phaser. Korob held up his hand. They both backed up to stand stock-still again. "I had hoped you would be more flexible," Korob said, "but-" He raised his wand.

  The green glow grew into a dazzle, dazzling as the crystal ball on the wand's end. The room and all its objects spun in it like dust motes. It blinded Kirk. When he could see again, he, Spock and McCoy were seated at the table. A boar's head gaped in front of him. There was a platter of stuffed peacock. In the table's center a giant beef roast, browned to succulence, was surrounded by silver bowls of fruit, great plates of creamy cheeses. Massive candelabra refracted light on crystal wine decanters and golden goblets. As a display of medieval food and sumptuous service, it was a feast to be seen only by tourists who had booked passage in a Time Machine.

  "How in the name of-" McCoy began.

  "Not a trick, Doctor," Korob said. "A treat this time. Believe that."

  "What do you want from us, Korob?" Kirk asked.

  "For the moment, merely that you eat and enjoy yourselves. Please try the wine, Doctor. You will find it excellent."

  "No, thank you," McCoy said.

  Mewing, the cat suddenly leaped to an empty seat at the table, light glinting from the crystal pendant hung around its neck. Despite his refusal of wine, McCoy's hand reached for the decanter in front of him. He made a visible effort to pull it back-and failed. Kirk made a move toward him only to be slammed back in his chair by Scott.

  "Bones..."

  "He can't obey you, Captain," Korob said. "He will not be harmed."

  Will paralyzed, McCoy poured wine from the decant-er into his goblet. The cat, its crystal pendant shining against its black fur, watched steadily as he raised the goblet to his lips. He touched it with them-and the wine burst into vivid red flames.

  Clearly alarmed, Korob raised his wand. The flames subsided, and McCoy dashed the goblet to the floor. It vanished, leaving a smell of smoke in the air.

  The cat hissed.

  Furious, Kirk said, "If you've amused yourself sufficiently, Korob..."

  But Korob's eyes were on the cat. "That was not my wish," he said. "I-perhaps I can make proper amends."

  The black wand pointed to the table's empty plates. They filled with gems, pricelessly exotic jewels come together in their multicolored glitter from the mul-tiworlds of the galaxy-the ruby reds of what were not rubies, the sapphire blues of what were not sapphires but the alien treasures of an unearthly star system.

  "They look genuine," McCoy said.

  "They are, I assure you," Korob said. "That is a masgar, Doctor-a lorinium-a pavonite. There is a fortune for each of you in the richest gems of the galaxy if you will leave here without further query."

  "We are not ready to leave here," Kirk said quietly.

  "Captain, you are a stubborn and unreasonable man. However, you have passed the tests.
"

  "Tests?" McCoy queried.

  Korob nodded. "You proved your loyalty by coming here to rescue your comrades in spite of warnings to stay away. Your courage was also tested. I learned you couldn't be frightened. Now I've learned that you can't be bribed. I congratulate you."

  The cat mewed. Korob patted it. "Quite right," he said. "Go at once." The animal jumped from the chair and was gone through the tapestried archway at the other end of the chamber.