Star Trek - Blish, James - 12 Page 14

  "Hailing frequencies open, sir."

  Reaching for his speaker, he said, "This is the Cap-tain of the Enterprise. We came here seeking friendship and have no wish to trespass. To demonstrate our goodwill, our vessel will return the way it came. But if attacked-"

  Once more the squealing feedback killed his voice; and once more he motioned for cut of the circuit.

  "Mr. Bailey, lay in a course away."

  "What?... Course? What... ?"

  Sulu leaned past the shaken Bailey to move a couple of levers on his console.

  "Course plotted and laid in, sir."

  "Engage, Mr. Sulu. Warp Factor One."

  "Warp Factor-" Sulu began, and, frantically work-ing his own controls, wheeled to Kirk.

  "There's no response, Captain!"

  "Switch to impulse!"

  "All engine systems show dead, sir. And weapon systems."

  Spock called, "Switching to screen, sir! I think I can get something visual."

  He achieved it.

  On the screen, the star background began to ripple like a sea flecked by plankton's phosphorescence. Then it dissolved into a still rippling but gradually firming shape-the distorted yet fairly distinct image of what could only have been Balok. The creature's long, drooping face was set in what seemed to be a permanently grotesque grimace, the nostrils of his bul-bous nose upturned to expose blood-red flesh, a space-clown out of nightmare. As to his eyes, they explained the cat-mouse game-green balls, thrust out, black-slitted.

  The thick lips moved.

  "You are wasting time and effort. There is no escape. You have eight Earth minutes left."

  The picture, wavering, blanked out.

  Spock's tone was that of an astronomy professor ex-plaining "black holes" to a classroom of freshmen. "I was curious to see how they appeared, sir."

  God bless Spock, Kirk thought, almost smiling. "Yes, of course you were."

  Bailey, lurching to his feet, screamed.

  "I don't understand this at all! Spock's wasting time -everyone else just hangs around! Somebody's got to do something!"

  McCoy went to him quickly. "Easy, boy, easy."

  "What do they want from us, Doctor? Let's find out what they want us to do!"

  Kirk's casual tone was all the more impressive for its unimpressedness.

  "They want us to lose our heads, Mr. Bailey. Don't accommodate them."

  "We've only got eight minutes left!"

  Sulu said, "Seven and forty-one seconds."

  Bailey spun, his eyes following Sulu's to the clock on the helmsman's instrument panel. Set to count off minutes and seconds, the minute hand held to "seven" while the second hand moved from "39" to "38" to "37."

  Bailey, pointing to the dial, shrieked, "He's doing a countdown!"

  McCoy seized the navigator's arm. "Practically the end of your watch. Why don't-"

  Bailey jerked free, almost throwing McCoy to the deck.

  "Are you all out of your heads? End of watch? It's the end of everything!"

  Kirk said, "Mr. Bailey."

  It was a voice he seldom called upon because it cost too much-the paradoxes of compassion and imper-sonal authority... of ignorance masquerading as wisdom, of self-possession wavering toward random-ness.

  Bailey flailed free of McCoy. "What are you, robots? Wound-up toys? Don't you know when you're dying? Watches and regulations and orders-what do they mean when-?"

  "You're relieved, Mr. Bailey," Kirk said.

  Bailey, swinging toward Kirk, started to shout a reply which, at the look on his Captain's face, emerged as a groan. The effort to control himself left him shaking.

  Kirk spoke to McCoy. "Escort him to his quarters, Doctor."

  Bailey strode off to the elevator alone, McCoy run-ning after him. Kirk's eyes left its closing doors, re-turning to the screen.

  "Lieutenant Uhura, ship to ship."

  "Hailing frequencies open, sir."

  "This is the Captain of the Earth Ship Enterprise. However, it is the custom of Earth people to make every effort-"

  The feedback squeal overwhelmed his words once more; but this time, Kirk made no gesture to cut off the circuit. There'd been enough bullying. If you knew what your intentions were-and they were peaceful- you gave them voice, undeterred by interruption. That was self-respect: standing by your truth. Unimagin-ably, the squeal ended, and Kirk, his voice calm despite the hope suddenly buoyant in him, resumed his com-munication to the commander of the Fesarius.

  "----to avoid misunderstanding with others. We de-stroyed your space buoy in a simple act of self-preser-vation. When we attempted to move away from it, it emitted radiation harmful to our species."

  No response.

  Kirk went on. "If you have examined our ship and its tapes, you know this to be true."

  The squeal screamed and then was gone, exiting like a bit player in a theater, making deferential way for the star's reappearance. On the screen, Balok's mon-strous face wavered into focus. Its mouth said, "You now have seven minutes left."

  The hot rage burned in Kirk again.

  He couldn't afford it, not with the despair, the ex-pectation of that new rabbit out of the hat on the faces around him. Anger like this was a weakness, not beautiful, but just a fierce resentment at one's failure to exert control, power-and the resultant hate of help-lessness to do it. Waste all your vitality in resistance to factual helplessness; and what you did was to cripple the resourcefulness you needed to devise some way out of it. Yet it was trust of his resourcefulness alone that was supporting his people's courage in the face of death.

  "Four minutes, thirty seconds," Sulu said.

  Scott blew up. "You have a inappropriate fascina-tion with timepieces, Sulu!"

  Sulu shrugged, and Kirk, leaving his command chair, went to Spock. "What's the matter with them? They must know by now that we mean them no harm."

  There was balm in the quiet, dark eyes. Half-smiling, his best friend said, "They are certainly aware by now that we are incapable of it, sir."

  From the screen, Balok said, "Four minutes."

  Kirk looked away from it "There has to be some-thing to do! Something I've overlooked!"

  Under the calm in Spock's voice, there was respect, affection-no demand for rabbits. "In chess," he said conversationally, "when one is outmatched, check-mate. The game is over."

  It was safe to explode with Spock. "Is that your best recommendation? Accept it?"

  Spock, realist and friend, said, "I regret that I can find no other logical one, sir."

  McCoy appeared beside them. "Assuming we find a way out of this-"

  "Nobody's given up yet!" Kirk snapped.

  McCoy's tone changed. "Then on Bailey. Let me put it in my medical records as 'simple fatigue.' "

  "That's my decision, Doctor!" Kirk said.

  Turning, he crossed over to his command position, his hand on its chair back, abstracted, wrenching at his brain for some answer.

  And McCoy, following him, said, "And it was your mistake. Expected too much, pushed him, over-worked-"

  Kirk's fist clenched. "I'm ordering you to drop it, McCoy. I've no time for you, your buck-passing the-ories or your sentimentality!"

  McCoy was not subdued.

  "Assuming we get out of this, Captain, I intend to challenge your action in my medical records. I'll state I warned you about his condition. And that's no bluff."

  "Any time you can bluff me, Doctor-"

  At once Kirk was aware that he himself had cracked a bit under the suspense and strain, and conscious too that his raised voice had made him an object of sur-prised dismay by the bridge personnel. He had in-creased fear instead of allaying it. Well, there was noth-ing to do about it. He'd just have to trust to their experience of him.

  Harsh, guttural, Balok said, "Three minutes."

  Kirk, his self-possession recovered, ignored the warning to speak to McCoy. "Fine, Doctor. Let's hope we'll be able to argue it through."

  Nodding, McCoy moved off, and Kirk, h
is hand shielding his closed eyes, suddenly removed it and, ris-ing from his command chair, went to Spock.

  "Not chess, Mr. Spock. Poker! Do you know the game?"

  Instead of waiting for the Vulcan's answer, he walked back to his chair, the idea that had come to him putting out fronds of hope and encouragement, developing, growing. And was no longer disturbed by the eyes focused on him, waiting, waiting for that rab-bit of magic.

  "Lieutenant Uhura, ship to ship!"

  "Hailing frequencies open, sir."

  Kirk sat upright. "This is the Captain of the Enter-prise...."

  He paused, his voice steady. "Our respect for other life forms requires that we now give you this warning. There is one critical item of information never com-mitted to the memory banks of any Earth Ship..."

  Half-aware of Sulu's astonished face, he continued. "Since the early days of space travel, our vessels have incorporated into them a substance known as corbo-mite. It is a material formed into a device which pre-vents attack on us." He voice deepened, not to threat but into uninflected impressiveness. "If any destruc-tive energy form touches our vessels, a reverse re-action of equal strength is created, destroying-"

  Interrupting, Balok said, "You now have two min-utes."

  Spock left his position to come and stand quietly beside Kirk, who went on as imperturbably as though the palms of his hands on his chair arms weren't wet with sweat.

  "-destroying the attacker. It will interest you to know that since the initial use of corbomite more than two of our centuries ago, no attacking ship has ever survived the attempt. Death has little meaning for us. If it has none for you, then attack us now. We grow annoyed at your foolishness."

  At his nod to Uhura, she clicked off the circuit.

  "Well played, sir," Spock said. "I believe it was known as a 'bluff.' I regret not having learned more about this... Balok." He gestured toward the screen. "Some aspects of his face reminded me of my father."

  Scott spoke. "Then may Heaven have helped your mother."

  "She considered herself a most fortunate Earth wom-an," Spock told him coolly.

  McCoy moved toward them and Kirk said quietly, "I'm sorry, Bones, I-"

  "For having other things on your mind?" He smiled. "My fault. My timing was out-"

  "One minute," Balok said, not echoed, but in pre-cise unison with Sulu who'd been checking his instruments by the half-second. Catching Scott's glare, the helmsman shrugged, addressing Kirk.

  "I knew he would, sir."

  Kirk laughed. "Has it ever occurred to you you're not a very inscrutable Oriental, Mr. Sulu?"

  Turning, Sulu grinned. "I tried it once when I was a kid. Remember those old..." he halted, searching for the word... "images on celluloid stuff?"

  "Cinema," Kirk said.

  "Movies," Scott offered.

  "Yes, cinema," Sulu said. "The ones about the time of the Sino-Western trouble..."

  Uhura spoke. "World War III, almost."

  Nodding, Kirk said, "The world was lucky it was stopped in time. None of us here would be enjoying life today..." As he noticed McCoy's grin, his words trailed off into a silence broken by Sulu.

  "Well, anyway, the villains were Oriental, remem-ber? I loved them. I used to sit in front of the mirror for hours practicing drooping eyelids, mysterious ex-pressions. I never knew what it meant. These movies were two hundred years old, I guess, but I wanted to be like them."

  Turning, Uhura smiled at him. "You never made it."

  "I can't figure out why I'm like this. I don't have a drop of Western blood."

  A heavy silence flowed in over the bridge, all the heavier for its contrast with Sulu's lighthearted comments; but the general anxiety was too present to con-tinue idle conversation. Sulu had turned back to his timepiece when the elevator doors opened and Bailey stepped out, his face defensive and uncertain.

  "If anyone's interested," Sulu said, "... thirty sec-onds."

  McCoy had seen Bailey at the bridge's rear, and Kirk, registering the constraint in his face, turned and saw the navigator too. Bailey approached the command chair briskly.

  "Sir, request permission to take my post."

  As Kirk eyed him, Sulu said, "Twenty seconds, Cap-tain."

  There was a brief pause before Kirk said, "Permis-sion granted, Mr. Bailey."

  He looked away as Bailey resumed his seat beside Sulu and his console's instrument clock, ticking off its "zero" seconds.

  "Ten," Sulu counted, "... nine... eight... sev-en..."

  Spock, almost too quiet-faced, had returned from his position to stand beside his Captain.

  Sulu said, "... six... five... four... three... two... one..."

  The zero count passed; and as nothing happened,. Spock spoke.

  "An interesting game, this 'poker.' "

  Kirk nodded. "It does seem to have advantages over chess."

  Balok's voice, filtered and grating, said, "This is the Commander of the Fesarius." But as Uhura leaned forward to throw her hailing-frequency switch, Kirk stopped her with a gesture.

  "Hold on, Lieutenant. Let's let him sweat for a change."

  A minute passed before Balok said, "The destruc-tion of your vessel has been delayed."

  "You gotta admire him," Sulu said. "The latest news every minute."

  Somebody laughed a little too loudly, the sound of the relieved guffaw followed at once by Balok's voice.

  "We must have proof of your corbomite device."

  Spock strode back to his station, beginning to manip-ulate controls as Balok went on: "We will relent in your destruction only if we have proof of your corbomite device. Do you understand?"

  Kirk waited four minutes by Sulu's clock before commanding the opening of hailing frequencies.

  "Request denied," he said.

  "You will be destroyed unless you give us this in-formation."

  Spock, gesturing toward the screen, said, "Cap-tain-"

  Again the hideous image of Balok assumed its waver-ing shape. And the voice said, "And now, having per-mitted your primitive efforts to see my form, I trust it has pleased your curiosity." The balled eyes moved slightly. "What's more, another demonstration of our superiority..."

  To a click, the Enterprise viewing screen went dark and the Fesarius Commander added, "We will soon inform you of our decision regarding your vessel."

  Kirk was leaning back, stretching in a weariness induced by the accumulation of strains when Yeoman Janice Rand walked through the opened elevator doors, carrying a tray of coffee and cups. As nonchalant as though the bridge were her personal drawing room, she set down the tray and was immediately surrounded by a group of men, including McCoy.

  "I thought the power was off in the galley," he said.

  Pouring the steaming brew into cups, she said, "I used a hand phaser. Zap! hot coffee!"

  She started off with a filled cup for Kirk, and Sulu cried, "Something's going on, Captain!"

  Kirk made a swift, rejecting gesture toward the cof-fee, he and Spock both concentrating on the ship's viewing screen.

  Indeed something was going on. A small, cell-like section of the Fesarius was separating itself from its mother ship and moving away from it but still remain-ing visible within the screen's frame. Spock lifted his head from his hooded viewer, saying, "Weight-about two thousand metric tons, sir."

  "Yes, it appears to be a small ship."

  The small, balled alien ship had moved nearer to the Enterprise; and as it approached still closer, its mother ship sped off, its cell-like sections dwindling rapidly in size. Accelerating fast, the thing lost shape to speed, turned to a pinpoint of light, then into a noth-ingness that left the tiny ship hanging before the En-terprise.

  Balok's voice, filtered, spoke.

  "It has been decided that I will conduct you to a planet of the First Federation which is capable of sus-taining your life form."

  Kirk, a man of action, gave vent to the frustration imposed upon him by many hours of inaction by slam-ming his clenched fist on his comm
and chair's arm. Near him, Sulu, leaning back in his chair, gazed up at the bridge deck ceiling, whistling a "Musetta's Waltz," which was still played on old Earth tapes of the Puccini opera. Beside him, Bailey stared at the dials on his con-sole.

  As to Balok, he went on.