"Asleep? That doesn't make sense," McCoy said. "Well, at least he's
alive. That's what's important."
Anitra smiled in agreement and turned her attention once again to the
control panel of the skimmer. "I watched Roy drive one," she said.
"They're really quite simple." She looked over at McCoy. "If you read
Vulcan, that is."
McCoy feigned irritation. "Wait a minute, you're supposed to be the
genius around here. You'd better hurry up and figure this thing
out."
Anitra, her face still radiant, let a few fingers fly over the
controls, and the skimmer rose spasmodically. "See? Nothing to it."
"Fine. Now, if you could just lower it enough to pick up my
stomach--"
"Sorry about that. The ride should smooth out." Anitra looked through
the wide windshield at the skyline and frowned. "Now, all I have to do
is figure out which direction ShiKahr is.... That way." The skimmer
accelerated spasmodically.
McCoy groaned. "Can't you put this thing on automatic?"
She looked at him, shocked. "Automatic? Doctor, that would be
cheating."
"This is it," Anitra said. The windshield on the skimmer lifted up and
she hopped out. McCoy crawled out gingerly, his legs rubbery after
what Anitra had called "an exhilarating ride."
Anitra stood before the gate of Sarek's house and held her hand before
the metal plate. Nothing happened.
"Security must be on," she muttered. "I wouldn't be surprised if he's
changed the code."
"We can't get in?" McCoy asked hopefully.
Anitra didn't answer; she thought for a moment, then touched the plate
in what seemed to McCoy like a perfectly random sequence. The gate
slid open.
"How'd you do that?" McCoy demanded.
"Good memory."
She started inside, but he put a hand on her shoulder and held her
back. "Look, do we have any sort of plan? That is, do we know what
we're getting into?"
McCoy had always had an innate half-buried fear of Vulcans. Perhaps it
had something to do with their severe appearance, or the hint of a
fierce warrior past, coupled with bone-crushing strength. Whatever the
reason for it, McCoy knew he was afraid to face Sarek--even more
terrified than the moment he had realized Jim was lost.
Anitra turned to face him, her hair turned to fire by the Vulcan sun.
She frowned in the brightening light, looking every bit as fiercely
unapproachable as Sarek himself could ever hope to be.
"Afraid?" Her tone was neutral; McCoy was unsure whether the question
was a reproach or a show of sympathy. He nodded reluctantly. "So am
I," she said matter-of-factly. "But you're forgetting something
important Spock is in there."
"Uh-huh," McCoy said unenthusiastically.
"If you stay with me, you'll be all right. I'm lowering all my
shields. I'll know exactly where everyone in this house is."
"Sounds fair enough to me," McCoy said, and without further argument,
he let her lead the way through the gate.
The rooms were now all brightly illuminated, but to McCoy, the house
seemed as eerie as if it had been cloaked in shadows. They walked
through the entry hall into the central room, Anitra slightly in front,
and stopped at the sight of the blood spattered on the couch.
"Spock?" McCoy whispered.Anitra's expression was grim; she said
nothing for a moment, but closed her eyes. When she opened them, she
pointed in the direction of the guest rooms and said, "Spock is that
way. Sarek is in the study."
McCoy stared, wide-eyed, in the direction of Sarek's study and
swallowed. He felt no small sense of relief when Anitra headed in the
opposite direction for Spock. His relief was short-lived. They
entered the hallway toward the bedrooms and had taken only a few steps
tightly, but she did not make a sound.
One of the rooms was open, and in its doorway lay a corpse--male,
Vulcan, covered with dried blood. "It's all right," Anitra said very,
very softly. She was shaken and pale, but her features were composed.
"It's not him." She held onto McCoy's arm and led him past the dead
Vulcan.
When they had made it as far as Spock's room, she stopped in front of
the door. "In here, I think. It's hard to tell--I get a very weak
signal, like he's not really conscious."
They entered. Spock sat inside, propped up in a corner, facing the
sunlight streaming in through a window. His head hung forward onto his
chest, and his hands were restrained behind him. McCoy made it to him
first and groped for his scanner. He read the results and looked over
his shoulder at Anitra, who was leaning forward and no longer able to
suppress an expression of concern--and perhaps something more.
McCoy paused for a moment when he saw the look in her eyes and cleared
his throat. "We've got to get him to--" he almost said "the ship," but
corrected
himself in time, "--the medical lab. He's got a hairline skull
fracture. He needs more help than I can give him here."
"Will he die?" Anitra seemed to be steeling herself for the worst.
"Not if we can get him back to the academy in time."
"How much time do we have?"
"Not long," McCoy admitted.
Anitra nodded and stood up; she checked the setting on her phaser. "I'm
sorry we only have one weapon," she said, her expression becoming
carefully neutral once again. "But I think you'll be all right here
with Spock."
McCoy stood up. "Where the devil do you think you're going?"
"To get Sarek." Her eyes dared him to stop her. "That's what we came
here for, isn't it?"
"Yes, but we sure as hell didn't agree that you would face him
alone--"
"You're forgetting something, Doctor. I've got the element of
surprise. I know where he is, and I can figure out most of what he's
thinking. But he won't know I'm coming. I'll walk right in the door
and stun him before he knows what's happened."
"I'm not going to let you go alone," McCoy repeated adamantly.
"We've got one weapon. What good will it do two people? Besides, are
you going to leave Spock here like this?"
"I don't like it." He realized he was beaten and cast about for a
better argument, but there was none. She was right.
She smiled in an unconvincing attempt to encourage him. "I'll be back
in a minute."
He did not smile back. He simply watched as she walked out the door
and it slid shut behind her. "Good luck," he said.
Spock's head began to sway from side to side; he moaned with the effort
required to lift it and let it fall back against the wall. His eyelids
fluttered.
"Spock?" McCoy asked gently.
Spock mumbled something so softly that at first McCoy did not
understand. "Anitra," he said.
"She's here, Spock," said McCoy. "You're going to be all right."
Spock's eyes opened wide for a moment and looked lucidly at McCoy.
"Sarek," he said suddenly. "She must not go--" He closed his eyes as
though speaking caused his headache to intensify.
"She'll be all right," McCoy comforted, but Spock had already fallen
asleep again. If they did not get him to the lab soon, he would slip
into a coma.
McCoy heard the sound of a phaser somewhere, far away, and fancied he
also heard a body fall on the soft carpet. He sighed, taking comfort
in the sound. He was already trying to figure out how to arrrange the
two unconscious Vulcans in the skimmer when he noticed something.
Spock's phaser was missing from his belt. McCoy knew, without a doubt,
that he had taken one with him when he first left to retrieve his
father; and for what McCoy told himself was no good reason, his hands
began to shake. He folded them tightly under his arms and scolded
himself for being so overimaginative.
Still, he could not seem to stop shaking. Time
seemed to slow after the sound of the phaser fire; to pass it, McCoy
tried to picture what Anitra was doing. First, she stood over Sarek's
body for a moment to be sure he was unconscious; perhaps she even
examined him. Then she grabbed him by his heels and began to drag him
toward the central room. She would take him almost to the front door
before she would stop to go back and tell McCoy to come. He imagined
all this, counting the seconds for each action, allowing more than
ample time. And yet, she was taking too long--far too long. His
nerves, of course, had altered his perception of time--a perfectly
natural phenomenon.
But it really was taking her too long. He looked over at Spock the
Vulcan was resting quietly. There was nothing McCoy could do to help
him right now, even if anything happened. The doctor scraped up the
last ounce of his courage and headed for the door. He would go look
for her. If Sarek had her, there would be nothing he could do--but at
least he would know. At least he wouldn't sit waiting in the room for
something to happen.
But before he reached the door, there were soft footsteps outside.
"Anitra?" he asked as the door slid open.
He took a step backward before his legs buckled under him. Sarek
looked as hellish as McCoy had pictured him in his worst
nightmares--his eyes burned black in a sunken, yellowed face, and he
held McCoy with a gaze that stopped the doctor's heart. McCoy waited
for the change, waited to become as Sarek was, but nothing happened to
him. In a pitiful gesture, hoping to appeal to whatever was left of
Spock's father, he nodded at Spock and said in a voice so weak
he could scarcely hear it himself, "He'll die soon unless we get him
some help."
"A pity," the Vulcan said in a voice that was Sarek's and yet not
Sarek's.
He stepped forward through the doorway so that McCoy could see what was
behind him. McCoy was too stunned, too shocked to react. He merely
stared.
Anitra stepped forward into the doorway. She looked just the same, but
when she smiled it was subtly changed. "Hello, Doctor," she said.
"Well," said McCoy, "get it over with."
Anitra looked confused for a moment. "Get it over . ah, take you, you
mean." The insincere smile returned. "But we don't need you,
Doctor--not that way. We need you for other things."
She looked so much like herself, McCoy felt an odd tug of love--and
hatred--for her. He made his best attempt at bravado. "What kind of
things?" he demanded.
"Are you really sure you want us to go into detail? I suppose it
doesn't really matter." She looked at Sarek.
"We needed the female," Sarek said, "for ourselves. She makes us very.
powerful We need you .. . to feed."
"Oh," McCoy said weakly. He was reminded all at once of some very bad
old science-fiction books he had read as a kid. "That's all right.
Maybe I really don't need that much detail.. .."
Anitra laughed, a hard, metallic sound. "Such a literal mind you have,
Doctor. Just think of what happened on the Enterprise. I'm sure
you'll figure it out."
"So you've come to kill us," McCoy said. "Why don't you take me and
leave Spock alone? He can't harm you."
"Oh, we'll leave you both alone ... for the moment," she answered.
"Spock is certainly no use to us in his present condition. We need him
to get better and we need you to be in charge of that. We can bring
you whatever you need."
McCoy felt a sudden disgust. "What are you going to do? Make him
better so that you can kill him? I won't do it."
She leaned forward, hissing. McCoy could not refrain from drawing
back. "You'll do what I tell you to."
Spock stirred slightly and McCoy looked down at him. His eyes were
open, clear and lucid, and they looked directly at Anitra. He did not
speak, but clearly knew exactly what had happened. He closed his eyes
again with utter resignation.
McCoy's tone changed. "Why don't we make a deal?"
Anitra looked at him, amused.
"I'll take care of Spock if you promise to let him go. You can keep
me."
The grating laughter came again. "You forget, Doctor, I know your
thoughts. You have no intention of letting Spock die."
"Have you forgotten your Hippocratic oath, Doctor? And you are in no
position to bargain. Although we prefer Spock alive for the moment, it
makes only a small difference to us."
McCoy stared up at Sarek, aghast at the words coming from his lips.
He continued, "Ultimately, the outcome for you and Spock will be the
same."
"Think about it while we're gone," Anitra said. "I'll be back soon."
And they were gone.
McCoy knelt by Spock's side and put a hand on his friend's arm. "I'm
sorry," he said inaudibly and bowed his head. Anitra knew what was in
his heart, but he could not weaken and follow it this time.
He would have to let Spock die.
Anitra had managed to bring McCoy what he had asked for, and other than
a few veiled hints at their ultimate fate, seemed content to leave him
and Spock in peace. It was as though she wished to prolong the agony
of anticipation for as long as she could.
And it had been nothing less than agony for McCoy. He sat for hours
staring at the hypospray that would sustain Spock long enough to get
him to surgery--but as yet had not yielded to the temptation to use it.
And that temptation was becoming very great. He pulled out the scanner
for the hundredth time in the past hour and ran it over the Vulcan.
Spock's heartbeat had slowed .. . the Vulcan had finally slipped into a
coma. There was little time left; if McCoy wanted to change his mind,
he would have to do it now.
The doctor rose, his arms folded tightly, his hands gripping his sides,
and paced around the room. The light was dimming rapidly; on the other
side of the house, windows were streaming with the rays of the setting
sun. On the other side of the house, Anitra knew everything McCoy was
feeling, and sat, waiting. He closed his eyes and tried to blank his
mind, but he
could not erase the image of the dying Vulcan. He owed it to Spock to
; save his life .. . but his mind filled with the gruesome image of
al-Baslama on the autopsy table. No, he argued with Anitra silently,
he could not let the same thing happen to Spock. He looked over at the
Vulcan. Spock was still restrained in the corner, his head sagging
once again onto his chest, and McCoy realized just as certainly that he
would not permit the Vulcan to die now, either.
"I won't let it happen," he said. "Dammit, Spock, I refuse to let it
happen." He went to the Vulcan's side and administered the hypospray.
Somewhere, he knew, Anitra would be smiling at her victory.
And then something very strange happened. Spock's heartbeat sped up,
almost to its normal rhythm, and then ... it stopped. McCoy closed his
eyes. He no longer had a choice to make. Spock was dead. He let the
anger and grief fill his mind; he wanted Anitra to feel the depth of
it.
When she came into the room, he was ready for her--pressed against the
wall next to the doorway. But his mind was over by Spock, grieving. He
was by no means good at hand-to-hand combat--such skills were not
required of medical personnel in the service--but desperation made him
very accurate. Mindlessly, he struck out so that the phaser dropped