Chapter 23

Spock seemed to have lost the fragile thread of direction he had been following. Perhaps something had disturbed it. He had sensed a kind of turbulence in the tenuous sense of presence which he had followed-danger, close brushes with death. Then there was some interruption toward the end which he could not read, some peculiar intensity of emotion….

Now he stopped, having no guide except the previous direction. He could no longer be certain that he was not hurling himself away from his own quarry. From one of them-or both of them…

He stayed for a moment in the fork of a great tree, questing, thinking. Then he set off, altering his course slightly and redoubling his pace.

He had been aware for some time from his height in the trees of the volcanic crater which loomed ahead and slightly to his right. It was in the general direction of the last trace of directional awareness he had had.

But more than that, he knew the man who was his Captain. If he lived, Kirk would sooner or later catch a glimpse of the volcano, and when he did, he would head for it. The mathematical probability approached certainty.

Kirk would storm any citadel rather than move without purpose. And Spock knew from previous sensor analysis that this geo-thermal-powered citadel was essentially impregnable and quite probably a layer-on-layer trap aimed precisely at them.

Sola would doubtless have some idea of that danger. But if she found Kirk first-or if she already had-she would undoubtedly consider joining him in the assault. That was, of course, assuming that she was in any condition to do so.

Spock had been gratified to sense that she had yielded to the logic of the situation and pursued the matehunt after Kirk. She would have known that Spock would accept no other solution.

But he was quite certain that there was also a danger for her in any form of matehunt. And his earlier weakness-or perhaps even his strength-might well have condemned her to a danger he did not know. Kirk had sent her back to him, once. If he attempted to do so here, the results might be catastrophic, possibly even fatal for her. And if he did not…

If he did not, Kirk would almost certainly become bonded to her, irrevocably. That would unleash her powers to make her the Totality’s weapon. And Kirk would become the hostage to fortune which the Totality would use to control Sola.

In that event there was virtually zero probability that Spock would ever see either of them again.

Spock moved down into the lower terrace of branches, sensing that he was close enough that he might pick up some actual trail or trace. He had better arrive first. Intercept Sola. Interrupt. She would be much less vulnerable to the use of Spock as a hostage, and he was better equipped to survive the Totality.

He moved with more care, not wanting some hazard to claim him now. Fortunately as a Vulcan he was even reasonably well-equipped to survive here.

Spock stopped. On the jungle floor below he saw the body of some large animal. It looked as if it had been stopped by a blue spear. He half-climbed, half-dropped down to it-a fairly easy matter in the less-than-Vulcan gravity.

The spear was a length of crude bamboolike fibrous growth, and he knew who would have used it.

Spock turned at a sound behind him and found himself facing a very large erect, manlike creature-covered in glossy black silver-tipped hair. It was half-again his height and six times his weight. And by the tooth structure, which was bared at him, it was carnivorous.

It appeared to be a semi-intelligent local equivalent of a large anthropoid, perhaps similar to Earth’s legendary Bigfoot, but with overtones here of saber-toothed cave-bear.

Spock considered that it was in all probability gregarious and also hunted in packs.

He had possibly been somewhat hasty in assessing his capacity to survive here, Spock decided.

Then the man-thing attacked him.

Kirk pulled away from Sola with a sudden sense of acute unease-danger, some urgent warning…

Suddenly he saw the same sense in her eyes.

He had noticed the communicator she had. “Call the ship,” he said. “Make sure Spock hasn’t beamed down.”

She shook her head. “The communicator does not work here. But also-Spock was beamed down a moment after you were-to offer me a choice.”

He was suddenly on his feet. “Then he’s out there!”

She moved for the door. “I stood no chance of finding him, once committed to you. He will have been on our trail.”

“You should have gone after him,” he said.

She merely looked at him, and he saw what the choice had cost her-and that the interruption now might cost her life. “Stay here,” she said, and was suddenly off through the trees.

He knew she was probably right in telling him to stay put. He was not in the best shape, and he was too slow in the trees. He could too easily get lost or fall afoul of some other predator.

But he had some sense that Spock was in mortal danger. She had left him the phaser on her weapon belt in the cave. He reached in and got it.

But he knew that all of that was largely rationalization. He would have gone bare-handed.

He moved off through the trees, trying to follow her vanishing form or, at least, her direction-although he had some sense that he could find the action himself.

Something had aimed him like an arrow…

Sola arrived in time to see Spock drop one of the silver-tipped man-hunters with a Vulcan nerve-pinch.

He was locked in the embrace with a force which had been close to snapping even a Vulcan spine before he could reach the nerve-hold. The manling fell as if axed.

But its band came out of the underbrush and began to close on the Vulcan.

He put his foot on the body of the fallen male and tried Sola’s trick of projecting a psionic message of triumph and strength-a kind of primitive I-am-Spock, I-rule-here.

The manling band stopped. Then one of the young males stepped out and prepared to close with the Vulcan. The young male’s challenge was at least superior to the alternative-a mass attack by the band. If Spock could close with them one at a time, he might at least delay the outcome.

However, he could not conceivably win against the faster, stronger young manling.

She saw-and sensed psionically-that no fiber of Spock’s being, no scent, no psionic aura, acknowledged the possibility of defeat.

That in itself was a powerful deterrent. The young male hesitated. Sola waited. There was the faintest chance, slim but conceivable, that the manling would be bluffed out and withdraw. Their dawn-age minds should not be able to confront this confident, apparently fearless prime male from another world. Some things cut across species and even world-lines.

Her single wrist-coil was not a sufficient weapon against a concerted attack by this large band.

Then one of the younger males jeered, urging the challenging male on-in their prelingual word-sounds, questioning the young male’s courage and his maleness.

The challenging male flung back an insult at the jeerers and charged Spock. The Vulcan met the charge, vaulting past the bull-manling to try to get on its back. But it was quick and young, with advantage of height, weight, reach. It caught him out of the air with one swipe of a long hand-paw and sent him reeling to slam against a tree.

Then Sola leaped down in front of Spock into the center of the manling band. That changed the nature of the conflict from male-clash to hunt-of-eating-enemy. An older female moved toward her first, then they all started to close in.

“Get out of here,” Spock snarled.

But she flicked out with the wrist-coil to stun the young male closing on Spock, then the old female. The female collapsed against her, almost taking her down.

Then the band made a concerted charge, and she was trying to pick them off with the coil. She could feel Spock at her back, fending off attackers with hands, feet, nerve-pinches.

For a moment she wished she had brought the phaser, but she could not leave Kirk unarmed, nor let him come.

Then she heard something from the trees and saw Kirk standing on a branch, trying to fire the phaser. Apparently they were to be permitted only one weapon. The phaser did not fire.

“Stay back!” she shouted to Kirk.

She felt the Vulcan turn, see Kirk, and say, “Stop!”

But it was already too late. Kirk had brought his ironwood club and with it he dropped down into the middle of the fray and threw himself between an animal and Sola. The club was a hopelessly inadequate weapon against the great manlings. But he waded in as if he did not know that, or care.

She found the wrist-coil flickering with an inspired precision which she could never have summoned by an effort of will. It wove a sudden net of protection around her vulnerable, insufferably brave chosen-mate-to-be. Or was it around both of her choices? For she felt now again the pull of Spock.

In either case the manlings suddenly sensed some terrible unity among the three strange beings. The first strange-male redoubled his efforts and locked his hands together to chop with clubbed hands. The smaller male scored with his club on vulnerable spots. The strange-female was possessed.

The manlings turned suddenly, dragging their wounded, their stunned, away with them.

After a long moment the clearing was quiet. Three figures still stood in the center of it. Then two of them turned on the other one.

“I told you to stay at the tree-cave,” Sola said.

“And I,” Spock added, “to stay out of this fight.”

Kirk sighed and looked considerably the worse for wear, but unrepentant. He could not quite repress a grin at the sight of Spock, alive.

“So-sue me,” he said.

Sola saw the Vulcan severely tempted to some less civilized form of dealing with that particular illogic. Or perhaps she merely projected her own temptation.

“You could have been killed, twice over, on your way here,” she said. “But there might have been some small excuse for coming with the phaser. There was none for jumping down when it failed to fire. At best you gave us more to protect-and more to distract us. You are far more vulnerable than a Vulcan, untrained for this, and armed only with a twig which a juvenile manling could take away from you.”

He sobered and looked at her squarely. “That’s quite true. And could I have failed to do it? What would you then expect me to do with the rest of my life?” He smiled then. “Besides, you may have noticed that you did such a job of protecting me that you won.”

For once she was silent. She had noticed it. And she had noticed that his illogic should have made her turn toward the Vulcan’s welcome sanity. In fact, it did. But she was surprised to notice that there was also some powerful element in her which loved that quality in the Human, however dangerous or illogical it was. There was some deep, primitive response to the male who would throw himself between his mate and the predator. It was not a survival characteristic-for the male. But it was for his mate and his seed…