Star Trek 08 Read online

  "Will you take us where we can find The Others?"

  "No one wants to find The Others."

  "We do. Take us to them and we will let you go."

  "Captain!" Chekov, his tricorder switched to full power, was pointing excitedly to the ground. "Right where we're standing, there's a foundation below the surface! And masonry debris! There are registrations all over the place!"

  "Buildings?"

  "Unquestionably, sir. Immensely old and completely buried. I don't know how our sensors misread them."

  "Then somewhere below us is where The Others live," Kirk said. "Mr. Scott, check it out."

  Scott and a guard were moving away when a hoarse cry came from the fur-clad man. "Don't go!" he screamed. "Don't go!"

  Chekov and McCoy tried to calm him. He refused calm. He pulled madly out of their hold, shrieking with terror. "Release him," Kirk said. They obeyed.

  "Don't go!" The last warning was almost a sob. Then he was gone, frantically hauling himself back up the cliff. Chekov said, "What have these Others done to cause such fear?"

  "We may know soon enough," was McCoy's sober reply.

  "Bones, what was it he said The Others give? It was 'pain and delight,' wasn't it?"

  "A peculiar mixture, Jim."

  "Everything's peculiar," Kirk said. "A dead and buried city on a planet in the glacial age . . ."

  "And a man," said Chekov, "who doesn't know the meaning of the word 'women.' "

  "There's a thread somewhere that ties it all together," Kirk said thoughtfully. "Right now I wish I had Spock here to find it for me. No offense, Mr. Chekov."

  Chekov said fervently, "I wish it, too, sir."

  "It's beginning to look as though your hunch was right, Jim. If there was a city here, maybe millions of years ago . . ."

  Kirk nodded. "Then it could have developed a science capable of building that ship we saw."

  "Captain, over here, sir." Scott and a security guard were standing near a spur of rock jutting out from the cliff. Under it was an opening, large enough to make entrance accessible to even one of the huge, shaggy, fur-clad men. It led into a cave. Or a room. Or something else. "I've looked inside," Scott said. "There's food in there, Captain."

  "Food?"

  "And a whole pile of other stuff. Some kind of cache. You'd better look, sir."

  The place was about twelve feet square. It should have been dark. It wasn't. It was quite light enough to see the food, mounds of it, laid out neatly along one wall. Furs were stacked against another along with clubs, metal knives, tools, hatchets. "A storehouse," McCoy said, "for our muscular friends."

  "I don't think so, Bones."

  Kirk picked up a crude metal ax. "Forged," he said, "tempered. Our savage brothers did not make this." He returned to the cave's entrance to run his fingers along its edges. They were smooth. He came slowly back to examine the place more closely. Then he saw it—a light which alternately glowed and faded. It came from a small cell set into the wall behind the piled food. He waited. The light went into glow—and shot a beam across the food to a cell in the opposite wall.

  "Scotty, Bones," he called. As they approached him, he barred their forward movement with an arm. The light glowed—and he gestured toward the beam. "What do you think?"

  "It could be a warning device to keep those beast boys away from the food," Scott said.

  "You think that beam could kill?" McCoy asked him.

  "It very well might."

  "How about this?" Kirk looked thoughtful. "The food is a lure to bring those primitive men into this place."

  "In that case, Captain, the beam might be serving as a signal of their arrival."

  "And this cave," Kirk said, "could be a trap."

  "It could trap us, too, then, Captain," Chekov said nervously.

  "Yes," Kirk said. "So you and the security team will remain at the entrance. We will maintain contact with you. If you don't hear from us within five hours, you will return to the Enterprise and contact Starfleet Command. Understood?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "Then return to the entrance."

  "Yes, sir."

  At Kirk's nod, Scott and McCoy checked their communicators. McCoy slung his tricorder over his shoulder. Then all three stepped over the beam. Kirk turned. Behind them metal doors had dropped over the cave's entrance.

  "Phasers on stun," he said.

  A loud hum broke the silence. Its pitch increased to a whine—and the whole cave moved bodily under their feet, descending as a descending elevator descends. It continued its smooth downward plunge; and Scott, checking his tricorder, said, "Captain, that power we picked up before—we're getting closer to it."

  "A lot of power?" Kirk asked.

  "Enough to push this planet out of orbit."

  The whining noise was diminishing. "Natural or artificial, Mr. Scott?"

  "Artificial, I'd say, sir."

  "And the source?"

  "Either a nuclear pile a hundred miles wide or . . ."

  "Or what, Mr. Scott?"

  "Ion power."

  Kirk smiled thinly. Ion power—it had stolen Spock. He had to fight against an uprush of rage. Then he decided to let it happen to him. He'd use it to sharpen every sense he had. He succeeded. The door of the cave-elevator had been fitted so deftly into it that he alone spotted it before it slid silently open. A young girl was facing them. Kirk's eyes looked for and found the button-studded bracelet on her arm. Her face had tightened in surprise and fear. But before she could stab at her bracelet, Kirk fired his phaser. She fell.

  Scott stood guard while Kirk removed the bracelet. "Is she all right, Bones?" he asked as McCoy rose from her stunned body.

  "I'll have her talking in a minute—if she talks."

  The pretty eyelids opened. At once her right hand went to her left arm. Kirk dangled the bracelet in her face. "We've had enough of that trick," he said.

  She was instantly on her feet to make a grab for the bracelet. As McCoy's firm hold convinced her of her helplessness, she said, "You do not belong here. You are not morg."

  Kirk ignored that. "Take us to the one in charge," he said. "We must talk to him."

  "Him? What is him?" said the girl. "I am Luma and I know no him."

  "Who is in charge here?" Kirk's patience was slipping. "Where is the brain? Where was it taken? Do you understand me?"

  "You do not belong here. You are not morg or eymorg. I know nothing about a brain."

  "I'll say you don't!" Kirk said. "I have no time for stupid lies!"

  "Jim—she's not lying. I've checked her. She really doesn't know." McCoy reslung his tricorder over his shoulder; and the girl seized her moment to make a wild dash for a door at the end of the corridor. Kirk caught her just as she reached it, but she had managed to press a photo cell built into the door jamb. Spinning her around, he barred her way through it.

  "What is this place?" he demanded.

  "This place is here."

  "Who are you?"

  "I say before I am Luma. I am eymorg. You are not eymorg. You are not morg. What you are I do not understand."

  "Well," Kirk said, "they certainly seem to be in bad need of brains around here. Watch her, Scotty."

  "You'll get nothing out of that one, Captain. She's got the mind of a child."

  "Then she's got a sister who isn't retarded!" Kirk said. "One that she can take us to! I've had all I'm taking of these pleas of ignorance!"

  He flipped the dial on his communicator. "Captain Kirk to Chekov—Kirk to Chekov. Come in, Mr. Chekov!"

  There was no response. He altered the dial adjustment and tried again. "Kirk to Chekov. Come in, Mr. Chekov . . ."

  "Fascinating. Activity without end. But with no volition—fascinating."

  Kirk froze. A chill shook him from head to feet. It was Spock's voice, familiar, loved, speaking very slowly.

  "Fascinat—" Kirk shouted into the communicator. "Spock! Spock! Is that you?"

  "Captain? Captain Kirk?"

  "Yes,
Spock! Yes!"

  "It's good to hear a voice, especially yours."

  Wordless, his hands shaking, Kirk handed his communicator to McCoy. Joy in his voice, McCoy cried, "Where are you, Spock? We're coming to get you!"

  "Is that you, Dr. McCoy? Are you with the Captain?"

  "Where else would I be?" In his turn McCoy silently passed the communicator to Scott.

  "Where are you, Mr. Spock?"

  "Engineer Scott, too? Unfortunately, I do not know where I am."

  Kirk grabbed the communicator. "We'll get to you, Spock. It won't be long. Hold on."

  "Good. Captain. It seems most unlikely that I will be able to get to you."

  McCoy spoke again. "If you don't know where you are, do you know what they're doing with you? That could help us."

  "Sorry, Doctor. I have not been able to achieve any insight into that."

  "They are using you for something," insisted McCoy.

  "Perhaps you are right. At the moment I do not feel useful. Functional in some ways—but not useful."

  "Spock," Kirk said, "keep concentrating. The use they are making of you will determine where they have you. Keep concentrating on the use they are making of you—and we'll get to you."

  The door beside them slid open. Two of the shaggy men came through it. Metal bands encircled their brows. They were welded into other bands that passed over their heads and down to cup their chins. Behind them stood the beautiful passenger of the ion-propelled spaceship.

  She motioned the men toward Kirk, McCoy and Scott. They didn't move. She pushed a red stud on her bracelet. The banded men writhed in torment. In a paroxysm of mixed pain and frustrated fury, they charged the Enterprise party. McCoy, caught off guard, felt a rib crack under the pressure of two massively muscular arms. Kirk had pulled free of his attacker's grip. He bent his back under the next maddened assault and his man slid over it into a somersault. He found his phaser, fired it—and the morg, the man, lay still. Then he felled Scott's adversary with a karate blow.

  This time the beautiful lady chose to depress a yellow button on her bracelet. Kirk's phaser dropped from his hand as unconsciousness flooded over him. Like the two morgs, like Scott and McCoy, he lay still.

  The five male bodies, helplessly stretched at her feet, pleased the lady. When the girl Luma joined her, the spectacle pleased her, too.

  It was a woman's world under the planet's surface.

  In its Council Chamber, women, all physically attractive, sat at a T-shaped table. As the still triumphantly smiling lady took her place at its head, they rose, bowed and caroled, "Honor to Kara the Leader!" Beside each woman knelt a man, sleek, well fed, docile as a eunuch. Occasionally a woman stroked a man as one pats a well-housebroken pet.

  At Kara's signal a door opened. Two of the muscular kitten-men pushed Kirk, McCoy and Scott into the room and up to the head of the table. The metal bands had now been fixed to their heads. Their masculinity caused a stir among the women; but it was the response, not of adult women, but of children on their first visit to a zoo.

  Scott was the first to recognize Kara. "She's the one who came to the Enterprise" he whispered to Kirk.

  Kirk nodded. "It's the smile I remember," he said.

  She spoke. "You have a thing to say?" she asked pleasantly.

  "Just one thing," Kirk said. "What have you done with the brain of my First Officer?"

  "We do not know your First Officer."

  "His brain," Kirk said. "You have Spock's brain."

  Something registered in what passed for Kara's brain. "Ah, yes! Brain! you spoke to Luma also of brain. We do not understand."

  They are retardates, Kirk thought. Getting through to whatever gray matter existed in that beautiful head was going to be tough. Temper, temper! he said to himself. Speaking slowly, very distinctly, "You were on my Starship," he said. "You were there to take Spock's brain. What's more, you took it. So what's this talk of not understanding what I mean by brain?"

  "We do not know these things you speak of. We are only here below and here above. This is our place. You are not a morg. You are stranger."

  Kirk's temper refused to heed his exhortation. "You came to my ship . . ."

  McCoy put a restraining hand on his arm. "Jim, she may not remember. Or even really know. Dissociation may be complete. One thing is sure. She never performed that operation."

  "If it required intelligence, she certainly didn't," Kirk said.

  Kara pointed to Luma. "You hurt her. It is not permitted again to hurt anyone."

  "We are sorry," Kirk said. "We did not wish to hurt."

  "You wish to return to your home? You may go."

  Kirk rallied all the charm he'd occasionally been accused of possessing. "We wish to stay here with you. We wish to learn from you. And tell you about us. Then we will not be stranger."

  The women were delighted. They smiled and nodded at each other. McCoy decided to toss his charm into the pot. "Above," he said, "it is cold, harsh. Below here with you, it is warm. Perhaps it is your beauty that freshens the air."

  They liked that, too. They liked it so much that Scott was encouraged to say, "There is no sun. Yet there is light—the light of your loveliness."

  Kirk had lost his last shred of patience. "I want to meet those in charge," he said.

  "In charge?" echoed Kara.

  She looked so puzzled that he added, "The leader of your people."

  "Leader? I am Leader. There is no other."

  Dumbfounded, Scott said, "Who runs your machines?"

  Kirk drew a deep breath. "This is a complex place," he said. "Who controls it?"

  "Control?" she said. "Controller?"

  The shocked look on her face told him the word had meaning for her. He tried to subdue his rising excitement. "Controller! Yes! That is right. We would like to meet—to see your controller!"

  Kara's fury was as abrupt as it was intense. "It is not permitted! Never! Controller is apart, alone! We serve Controller! No other is permitted near!"

  "We intend no harm," Kirk said hastily.

  But he had exploded a volcano. "You have come to destroy us!" Kara screamed. The women around her, infected by her panic, twittered like birds at the approach of a snake. They all rose, their fingers reaching for their bracelets. Appalled, Kirk cried, "No! No! We do not come to destroy you! We are not destroyers!" McCoy came to stand beside him. He put all the reassurance at his disposal into his voice. "All we want," he said, "is to talk to somebody about Spock's brain."

  "Brain! And again, brain! What is brain? It is Controller, is it not?"

  McCoy said, "Well, yes. In a way it is. The human brain controls the individual's functions." He was beginning to suspect the significance of the hysteria. He looked at Kirk. "And the controlling power of the Vulcan brain, Jim, is extraordinarily powerful."

  Scott, too, had realized that Kara identified the word "brain" with controlling power. "Is it possible they are using Spock's brain to—" He didn't complete the sentence.

  "The fact that it is a Vulcan brain makes it possible," McCoy said.

  Kirk suddenly flung himself to his knees. "Great Leader! We have come from a far place to learn from your Controller . . ."

  "You lie! You have come to take the Controller! You have said this!"

  Still on his knees, Kirk said, "He is our friend. We beg you to take us to him."

  But the fright in the women's faces had increased. One began to sob. Kara stood up. "Quiet! There is no need to fear. We know they can be prevented." The women refused consolation. As though the very sight of the Enterprise men filled them with horror, they pushed their benches back and fled the Council Chamber.

  Kirk made a leap for Kara. "You must take us to him!" he shouted.

  She touched the red stud on her bracelet. The bands cupping their heads were suddenly clawed with fiery spindles. They stabbed their temples with an excruciating agony that obliterated thought, the memory of Spock, of the Enterprise, the world itself. The torture widened, spread t
o their throats, their chests, devouring their breath. Choking, Kirk tore at the band and collapsed. Beside him, McCoy and Scott had lost consciousness.

  "I must learn what to do!" Kara cried. "Keep them here!"

  Her two servant morgs hesitated. She moved a finger toward her bracelet. The gesture was sufficient. They lumbered over to the slumped bodies to take up guard positions on either side of them.

  The pain had ceased. Kirk opened his eyes to see McCoy stir feebly. "Are you all right, Bones?" McCoy nodded, his eyes bloodshot. "I—I wouldn't have believed the human body could have survived such pain," he whispered. Revived, Scott was pulling at his headband. "They're attached to us by a magnetic lock of some kind."

  "No wonder the morgs are so obedient," Kirk said. He struggled back to his feet. "What beats me is how this place is kept functioning. What keeps the air pure and the temperature equable?"

  "It's clearly not the men," McCoy said. "They live on the frozen surface like beasts. So it must be the women. They live down here with all the comforts of an advanced society."

  "Not one of those women could have set up the complex that keeps the place going," Scott said. "That would call on engineering genius. There is no sign of genius in these females."

  "They're smart enough to have evolved these headbands," Kirk said. "What a way to maintain control over men!"

  " 'Pain and delight,' " McCoy quoted. "I'm sure you've noticed the delight aspect in these surroundings, Jim."

  "Yes. Beauty, sex, warmth, food—and all of them under the command of the women."

  "And how does Spock's brain fit into this woman-commanded underground?" Scott asked.

  Kirk didn't answer. The guard morgs had left them to go and stand at a corner table. On it, neatly arranged, were their tricorders and communicators. Only their phasers were missing. "Bones," Kirk said, "do you see what I see over there?"

  "The equipment is only there, Jim, because the women don't understand its use."

  "Gentlemen," Kirk said, "wouldn't you say that science holds the answer to the problem of recovering our equipment?"

  "Aye," Scott said. "Let's go, Captain!"

  They went for the morgs. Kirk gripped the jaw of one in a hard press. There was a bellow of pain. Terrified that it had been heard, the other morg looked apprehensively toward the door. Then he made a jump for Scott. Both guards were paragons of muscular strength; but their long training in docility had destroyed their ability to use it effectively. Kirk downed his Goliath with a jab to the throat. Scott's rabbit punch disposed of the other rabbit. Scientific fighting indeed held the answer to their problem. Within forty seconds the two guards were out for the count.