among his peers as Old Reliable the man who could
find anything, fix anything (and, as those who knew him
from the Academy could verify, "organise" anything
that wasn't nailed down) had suddenly revealed himself
as a closet Egyptologist.
"Why, Lee, you amaze me!" Jim Kirk said
softly when he'd done.
"It's a hobby." Kelso shrugged. "I've
always been interested in architecture."
"What about the treasures, Lee?" Gary tweaked
him, shaking cobalt-blue sand out of the
communicator. It sprinkled like fairy dust down
the stairs to mingle with the reddish sand on the floor, a
reminder that where they had been was not
hallucination, but no guarantee that where they were was not.
"Where's King Tut's gold? Where's the ancient
papyrus with the secret code? Where's the hidden
passageway to get us out of here?"
"There are some hieroglyphs over here,"
Elizabeth Dehner said helpfully, interested in
what Kelso had been saying and anxious to shut
Mitchell up at any cost. "At least that's what
I think they are."
Kelso had already investigated them.
"They're not true pictographs. Coptic
graffiti. Centuries younger, and inferior to the real
thing."
"Excuse us!" Mitchell murmured.
"At least the lights are a little more
contemporary," Kirk observed, studying the wall
sconces near the high stone ceiling, listening to the
echo of his own voice. "For a minute there you had me
expecting torchlight processions. All right,
let's say Egypt, for the sake of argument. That
puts us in a lot less difficulty than we would
be anywhere else. All we have to do is find a way
out of here, locate Spock his
STRANGERS FROM THE SKY
"Just like that," Mitchell remarked dryly,
refitting the casing on the communicator and testing it.
"Nothing to it!
"Have you got that thing working yet?" Kirk de- manded
impatiently. "If we can home on a
Starfleet frequency his
"Oh, it's working, all right," Mitchell
assured him. "But I can't broadcast. There's no
range. Something's jamming it."
Kirk turned to Dehner. "What about the
tricord- ers?"
"Same problem, Captain," she replied. "I
can read anyone inside the chamber, but I can't get
beyond the walls."
"There's some kind of damping field all around us,
Jim," Mitchell reported, snapping the
communicator shut with finality. "Something out there
wants us incommunicado. And if it's the same
thing that was strong enough to bring us here, offhand I'd say
we're in pretty deep his
"Very astute, Mr. Mitchell," said a voice
behind them, a voice that did not echo, but spoke in the
same heavily accented Standard that Kirk thought he'd
imagined before. "However, allow me to assure you that
your fears are unfounded. I mean you no
harm."
He had not come down the steps, had not entered to the
sound of stone walls sliding open to Gary
Mitchell's suggested hidden passageway, was
simply there with them curious apparition out of another
age or reality, turbaned and white-robed, too
thin for his height or too tall for his weight
wraithlike, insubstantial, grinning like the
proverbial Cheshire cat, and carrying (kirk
saws
a bone-china tea service on a teakwood
tray.
"You're the one!" Kirk advanced on him, finger
pointed accusingly. "The voice I heard. Are you
responsible for bringing us here?"
"Quite responsible, Captain," the wraith
acquiesced
STRANGERS FROM THE SKI
with a small bow, setting the tea service down on
the steps in lieu of furniture, spreading his long
fingers in apology. "Guilty as charged, though I
assure you that was not my original intention."
Kirk opened his mouth and nothing came out.
Nonplussed, he looked up at
Mitchell for
suggestions. Mitchell shrugged.
"What was?" Kirk asked carefully.
"I was attempting," the stranger said, fussing with the
tea things, "an expeninent in the manipulation of time.
It was not intended to involve anyone else. You and your
crew simply got in the way."
Behind him, Kirk could hear Dehner's tricorder
whirring busily. Cool and collected, she was
taking readings on the stranger. Good! Kirk thought,
clearing his throat.
"I am Captain James T. Kirk of the
Federation starship Enterprise. We were on a
peaceful mission his
"Oh, I know all that, Captain," the stranger
said, waving it away with one long hand and nearly
upsetting the teapot. "Though at present I do not
know how I know. I know all manner of useless
things. It is when I try to employ my knowledge in some
way that might benefit me in my plight that I
succeed only in making matters worse. Do you
take honey in your tea, Cam fain?"
Before Kirk could refuse, assert himself, even
shout something incoherent, Dehner's voice came from
behind him.
"He's human, Captain," Dehner whispered.
"More or less."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Kirk demanded.
"She means, Captain," the stranger said, still
holding the teacup (seeing that Kirk had no intention
of taking it, he offered it to Dehner, who shut off
her tricorder and accepted it with a shrug in Kirk's
direction), "that while some of my readings are within
human norms, many are not. She will tell you that my
neurological 197
STRANGERS FROM THE SKY
patterns are paranormal, for example,
particularly what you would classify as esper
ratings, and that she is unable to determine my age."
"Exactly," Definer said coolly, as if his
knowing all that didn't surprise her in the least.
She leaned against the steps sipping her tea as if it
were the most normal thing to do under the circumstances.
Kirk wondered if it was. "How did you know? Have
you been tested before, Mr. his
"Parneb," the stranger said, pouring a second
cup of tea. "Mahmoud Gamal al-Parneb
Nezaj, If you please, though Parneb is the one
name I shall carry with me through all my incarnations.
Mr. Mitchell?"
"My mama told me never to take tea with
strangers," Mitchell quipped pleasantly from his
perch near the top of the staircase. His arms were
folded, he leaned casually against the wall, but a
certain tightness about the mouth let Kirk know that he
was coiled and ready to spring if he gave the word.
"Ah, but we are no longer strangers!" Parneb
protested, offering the tea and some biscuits to Lee
Kelso, who had never been known to refuse anything
edible. "I know who you are, and I will tell you as much
abo
ut myself as I can remember. And in due course I
shall do all in my power to get you home safely. But
you must first promise me you will not do anything
precipitous.
"It's mint!" Kelso said past a mouthful of
biscuit, referring to the tea, to which he'd added a
generous dollop of honey. "It's very good."
"From my own garden," Parneb said with a trace of
pride. "And the honey is from my own apiary.
IN-VO skills which will hold me in good stead down the
ages."
"One of my crewmen is still missing," Kirk
inter- rupted, shaking off a kind of Through the
Looking- Glass malaise that seemed to have
captured Kelso at least. All this
pouring and sipping, pattering and chat
STRANGERS FROM THE SKY
tering, were getting to him; he had a sudden desire
to smash crockery. "He was with us on that planet his
"Yes, I know, the Vulcan," Parneb said
calmly. "Pity, I don't quite know how that
happened; you were all supposed to arrive here.
Malesh, a single Vulcan can't be that difficult
to find."
"We are in Egypt, aren't we?" Kelso
wanted to know.
"Most definitely, Mr. Kelso. And I quite
enjoyed your lecture on the subject." Parneb
poured himself a cup of tea at last, folding his
ectomorphic personage onto the stone steps
to sip at it delicately. "You and your
associates have managed to surmise a great deal
despite the restrictions I have placed on you
by confining you to this cellar; it was not intended to be a
dungeon, Mr. Mitchell, truly. I must also
accept responsibility for jamming your equipment,
Captain. I was aware that your training and your
talents would demand that you attempt to escape or
to seek help from outside. But, like you, I
also have a manner of Prime Directive. I cannot
have you announcing your presence in a century that is not
your own."
Slowly Kirk began to comprehend what Parneb
was really saying. He had by his own admission
transported them across parsecs of distance. Why not
time as well?
"Parneb," Kirk said with the last ounce of
patience he possessed. "What century is this?"
"Why, one of mine, of course," Parneb seemed
surprised that Kirk didn't know. "But as to which of
them let me think . . ."
It was more than Kirk could stand.
"I want answers!" he gritted out through clenched
teeth. "I don't know who or what you are
sorcerer, con man, or just plain lunatic but if
you don't release us, tell me what's happened
to my first officer and my ship, and get us back where
we belong, I'll"
"You'll what, Captain?" Parneb went on
placidly sipping his tea.
STRANGERS FROM THE SKY
Kirk lunged for him, found himself grabbing what
felt sickeningly like cobwebs, until it
melted out from under him. Kirk lurched forward, hit the
steps hands first, broke his fall, and rolled onto
the floor. Beside him Parneb's teacup tumbled,
splashed, and smashed to bits. Parneb was elsewhere.
"Please don't do that again, Captain." Kirk
leaped to his feet to find the conjurer standing in the center
of the room, smoothing his clothing fastidiously. "It
wrinkles the djellaba and is undignified for both
of us. I told you I would do what I could. But I
need time. And your present behavior is hardly
conducive to my letting you out of here at all."
Kirk seethed, mentally adding his skinned hands to the
bruises he already owed this disappearing dervish.
"Patience, Captain, for just a bit longer,"
Parneb advised affably. He saw that Kelso was
examining the walls again. "Mr. Kelso, I would be
most interested in how you rate this structure
comparative to others of the same period . . ."
He linked his arm in Kelso's and within moments the
two were off on a tour around the room, pattering
away as if they had all the time in the world. Kirk
collected his wits and looked around him at the others
Dehner sitting with teacup in hand as if she didn't
know what else to do, Mitchell poised on the
staircase like a deceptively sleepy
cat. Alice through the looking glass, Kirk
mused, had had to keep running in order to stay in the
same place. Exhausted, he climbed up to sit
beside Mitchell.
"Gary, I'm stumped," he said. "I can't
seem to get through to this character at all."
His manner was not consistent with any
regulation command technique he knew, but he was
wise enough to recognise his own myopia and seek a
second opinion. He had relied on
Mitchell's advice for so long....
"Patience and diplomacy, kid." Mitchell's
lips barely
STRANGERS FROM THE SKY
moved, his eyes never left the white-clad
figure of their host, as if he suspected him of
overhearing their conversation even at this distance. "Humor
him, like Lee's doing now."
"Lee," Kirk said testily, "is off on his
own little cloud somewhere. If I hear one more discourse
on architecture I'm going to his
"Is he, Jim?" Mitchell wondered. "You
know Lee as well as I do. He can be a maniac
sometimes, sure, but he's never lost his
perspective. Ever since this Parneb character popped
up, he's been playing him like a violin. Lee was
the one who found out we were in
Kirk watched the two figures on the far side
of the room, suddenly saw Kelso's seeming
flakiness in a new light.
"The Good Cop/bad Cop scenario." He
smiled.
"All I know is, it's old," Kelso had
explained it to them, preparatory to using it
to extricate them from some jam or other. "Earth
origin, variation on the Devil's Advocate
scenario. One guy plays the Bad Cop real
mean, ready to beat the guy in the middle to a pulp.
The other guy plays it sympathetic, like it's all
he can do to hold the first guy off. That way the guy in
the middle trusts the Good Cop to protect him from the
Bad Cop, and he'll tell him anything."
"And you're the Bad Cop," Kirk said.
"Perfect bit of casting, no?" Mitchell
grinned. "And you're the quarterback." He grew
uncharacteristically serious. "Lee and I'll block
for you, Jim, you know that. But it's still your play."
Kirk smiled his gratitude. A man
was fortunate to find such a friend once in a lifetime;
a commander who could claim such a man as his confidant
was doubly blessed.
STRANGERS FROM THE SKY
"Captain?" It was Elizabeth Dehner, who'd
been observingarneb too. "Much as I hate to find
myself in agreement with Mr. Mitchell, the
technique is psychologically sound."
"There you are!" Mitchell said dryly. "Now that
you'v
e got the UFPMA Seal of Approval his
"Easy, Gary, easy!" Kirk felt like
laughing for the first time. "Save your act for Parneb."
"Who said I was acting?" Mitchell wondered with a
quizzical look at Dehner.
Before she could say a word Parneb was
suddenly, silently among them again. There was no
telling how much he'd overheard.
"It is time now," he announced with a wave of his
hand. "If you will all come with me . . ." He chose
to make a conventional exit this time, moving up the
stairs as if there were not several tons of stone between them
and freedom. Kirk, right behind him, was strangely
unsurprised to find that there were not.
Mitchell uncoiled himself from the steps and
let Kelso pass him.
"Come on, Alice in Wonderland," he called
down to Dehner. "Tea party's over."
Dehner shouldered her tricorder and glared up at
him.
"Someday, Mr. Mitchell, I'm going to look
inside your head and find the cause of that calculated
misogyny," she said coldly.
"I've got nothing against women," Mitchell on
jected, trying to take her arm. "They're some of my
favorite people. When they act like women."
"Maybe you're just jealous of my trying to get between
you and your captain," Dehner suggested, wrenching
free of him, ignoring the insult not the first of its
kind she'd heard, certainly.
"My advice has saved Jim Kirk's life
more than once," Mitchell said stonily. Playing
the Bad Cop
STRANGERS FROM THE SKY
already? Elizabeth Dehner wondered, or did
he really mean to sound so menacing? "If he needs
your advice, he'll ask for it."
The staircase spiraled upward through several
narrow turnings within windowless, featureless
stone walls that Kelso assured them, to Parneb's
obvious delight, were of much later construction, opening
out suddenly into a suite of airy, almost-modern
rooms. Kelso was ecstatic.
"Mud-brick construction, domed ceilings, rounded
arches!" he raved. "It looks like a Hassan
Fathy. Parneb?"
"Close, Mr. Kelso," Parneb beamed at
him. "The architect will be a disciple of Fathy's
at the end of the last century."
Mitchell, meanwhile, was not looking at the
architecture but at the mass of medieval
miscellany contained within it.
"He's got all the trappings, Jim!"
Mitchell sounded amazed. "Look at all this
stuff!