The End of the Beginning

Part 4 of 4

"Governor George's 'valuable equipment' cache," Sarah suggested as their craft hovered near a small ledge just outside the cave's entrance. "I wonder what he's up to."

Spock did not dignify her speculation with an answer, but continued to take tricorder readings of the cave entrance and the wounded animal's trail leading to it. But Sutek remarked politely that it was useless to speculate on what the governor's equipment might be.

"I know. But I can't help wondering. He didn't act as though it were illegal, but he still didn't want anyone here to know about it."

Spock asked Sutek to take control of the hovercraft and hold its position next to the ledge. "By all indications, the creature is in the cave, unless she has died there. Dr. Halsted, please come with me to the cave entrance, but no further. If I find the animal and deem it safe for you to enter to treat her, I should like to be able to communicate with you without raising my voice."

He approached the heavy black door carefully, phaser in hand. Sarah, standing just outside, saw him pause, glance around, and then move into the cave as though it were a small room, easily examined.

"She's not there?" she asked, feeling reluctant relief.

"Affirmative. There is evidence that she was here and tunneled out, however." He paused, and took a step further into the cave. "Fascinating," he said softly.

"What is it?" Sarah and Sutek asked together.

"The cave appears to be fully equipped living quarters for four or five people--the governor-general and his family, I should think. With the door in place, the occupants would be shielded quite effectively from the deposition of radioactive particles following upon the detonation of an atomic warhead."

"You mean it's the governor's private fallout shelter, just in case." And propelled by nothing more than curiosity, Sarah moved forward into the cave entrance.

"Are you sure?" Kirk was asking tensely over the intercom. DeVecchio was a good man--one of Spock's more promising trainees for backup science officer. But Kirk was in the midst of phaser maintenance inspection with Scotty, and he did not like to be off the bridge if there was even a minor crisis developing. He and the crew had been briefed on the Kiso, and he did not particularly trust them.

"Yes, sir. It's a Kiso ship all right. Small, fast--they were doing warp six before they went into orbit."

"What orbit?"

"Synchronous orbit, sir. Right over Tower City."

"I'm on my way. Tell Uhura I want to talk to the captain of that ship. Kirk out." He turned to Scotty, forgetting to turn off the intercom. Something was about to go very wrong. He felt it in his gut. "Scotty, get those phasers op--"

"Captain!"

He heard DeVecchio's cry over the intercom--a young officer, surprised, horrified, momentarily unable to continue.

"Report, mister!"

"They've fired a SPASM, sir! At Tower City. It--it's armed. Impact in ten seconds."

The captain and the chief engineer stared at each other in horror, knowing that it would take at least ten times ten seconds to make the phaser banks operational.

It was immediately obvious to Sarah that Spock was as curious as she was about the governor's "valuable equipment." She stepped into the cave, expecting him to object. But his attention was wholly absorbed in examining a shoulder-high apparatus that Sarah judged to be an air purifier. Glancing around (canned goods, clothing, bedding--and were those parlor games?), she utterly failed to remember T'Loreth's advice until too late.

"I wonder--," she began, and stopped in dismay. She had been standing less than half a meter behind Spock when she began to speak, and he had started as violently as had Sutek and the boy Simon on the day of Kirk's visit to Salk Memorial. "Oh, God--I'm sorry. I should have--

"Doctor," he snapped, "you will remove yourself immediately." Now in a little more control: "I must insist--"

"Is that an order, Mr. Spock?" She knew that, startled as he had been, he had spoken more sharply than he had intended. But she was irritated nevertheless. And so she walked past him, farther into the cave, moved by nothing more than a momentary contrariness.

That momentary contrariness and its cause would save both their lives--just as Spock's next admonition would save their eyesight.

When she stopped suddenly at the sight of a gaping tunnel-entrance in the cave's rear wall, he approached her purposefully, pointing toward the hole.

"Look," he said. And they both looked--facing away from the half-open door, and standing slightly out of line with it. "A wounded animal dug that tunnel. She may still be in the vicinity. Doctor, I must insist--"

Light. Everything was made of blazing white light. What had a moment before been a gaping hole was--

"Protect your eyes!"

As she pressed her hands to her already closed lids, she felt herself knocked against the wall and shielded there from the coming shock wave by the wall itself and by her companion's body.

There were burning shapes behind her eyelids. White and black, they all burned the same.

And she thought: Sutek. Outside. Looking toward...?

For a moment it seemed as though the universe itself stood absolutely still. Then, just before the shock wave hit them, she thought: the baby.

A direct hit.

In the moment before he again became captain of the Enterprise, James Kirk the man could not make his thoughts straighten out. They kept going in a circle, repeating the same fragment of conversation over and over.

"Don't stay for lunch unless they ask you."

"I wouldn't think of it, Captain...."

"Close the door!" Sarah's fingers clawed at it, and several of her nails broke. But she did not notice. They universe was now gray, without color; her lips were dry and her teeth were grinding on blown grit and dirt. But the baby. The baby. "Help me close it!" She knew that she would have been screaming had her throat not been full of dust.

Spock pulled her away from the door. "Sutek is out there!"

"I can't expose myself to radiation!" She knew she was hysterical, but she could not stop herself. "Help me!"

Spock stared at her--in disbelief and uncontrolled contempt--out of a face that looked dead. Do I look like that? she wondered. Are we really alive?

"Very well, Doctor. Remain here, then. I shall endeavor to bring the patient to the physician rather than--"

"I'm pregnant." She sobbed inwardly at this tearing asunder of her privacy. But let no one think that she would lightly betray her oath.

He had begun to leave the cave as he spoke. Now he froze for an instant, his back to her. Then, without looking around, he left the cave, pushing the heavy door closed behind him.

The door was a work of art, carefully balanced so that it would revolve open or closed at a touch, but so completely airtight that no light could enter around it. As the cave was plunged into darkness, a scream rose in Sarah's throat. But she fought it back, her broken fingernails biting into the palms of her hands. She had had her moment of hysteria, but she would not permit herself another.

As she fought the panic, she began to realize that the cave was not completely dark. The walls glowed faintly, as though phosphorescent. In that very faint light she could see the shadows of the supplies and equipment that the governor and his family had laid away against this day. But apparently they had expected some warning.

She bowed her head, tearless, but remembering the children's voices she had heard as she and Spock and Sutek....

"Don't stay for lunch...."

Reality slipped and slid out of focus. But she raised her head, got up from where she had fallen to her knees beside the door, and began to look for a portable light by means of which to examine Sutek. The monstrous truth of their situation was already being stored in one compartment of her mind, partially sealed by self-preservation and the need to retain emotional balance. For it was more than obvious to her that, even if they could escape the effects of radioactive fallout, it was highly probable that the crew of the Enterprise would have no way of knowing that she and her two companions had survived the holocaust of Tower City.

She had not yet been able to locate a portable torch when the door opened once again. Two figures, one supporting the other, were briefly silhouetted against a smudge of gray daylight. (But the sun was shining, she thought in despair. It was such a beautiful day.) Then the door closed, and Spock paused a moment, still half-supporting Sutek, his free hand reaching toward the line where the door fitted against the wall. The was no visible crack, yet he ran his fingers deftly along where a crack would have been--testing, probing. Then, apparently satisfied, he turned his attention to Sutek, gently guiding him to sit on the cave floor, his back against the wall.

Trying not to dwell on the fact that the daylight she had just seen might be the last she would ever see, Sarah started toward Sutek, slipping her medikit from her shoulder, straining to see him in the faint phosphorescence.

"Doctor Halsted."

Spock's tone was calm, but demanding of her attention. Puzzled, Sarah reluctantly turned her attention from Sutek; he had, to her great relief, apparently received only a few superficial burns about the face and seemed to be in the light trance.

"Yes?"

"The radiation level immediately outside is not now above what it was at the time of our entrance, but I anticipate that it will begin to rise very shortly." Still, he had activated his tricorder, and was making another pass over the non existent crack between the door and the wall. "The tricorder readings I took outside indicate that a thirty-five to forty megaton atomic explosion was detonated three point four minutes ago. Ground zero was Tower City. The device was not thermonuclear. Hence I calculate the probability at 3.6 percent that we shall experience any long-term stratospheric fallout." Although all of the information was crucial to their survival, the sheer volume of words gave Sarah the irrational impression that he was babbling. In one small part of her mind, she wondered if excess verbiage might be some sort of safety valve that permitted him to establish control. "However, local and tropospheric fallout will render the planet's surface uninhabitable at this latitude for approximately one point five standard months. Unless my heretofore unsuccessful attempts to establish contact with the Enterprise become successful, it will be necessary that we remain in this cave for between two and three standard months." The rapid fire of information ceased abruptly, and he shut off the tricorder and turned to face her. "We're safe here," he finished quietly, almost gently. "All of us. Please don't worry."

The sudden change in tone, together with the simple but pointed reassurance, caught Sarah by surprise. Tears came to her eyes, but she blinked them away easily enough. "Thank you, Mr. Spock. I know you realize how much that means to me. But are you sure you can't reach the Enterprise?"

"Even outside, the interference is too great. Here within the mountain, metallic ores create additional barriers." For a moment he looked haggard, almost old, in the faint light. "I shall make another attempt shortly, however. Do you require assistance?"

"Just some light."

Spock produced a small capsule, laid it on the topmost carton in a pile nearby, and struck it with the handle of his phaser. As he was in the act of doing this, Sarah turned to Sutek once more.

In the quick flare of light as the harmless flame leaped toward the cave ceiling, she saw that his skin was indeed discolored in places by greenish blotches that were the Vulcan equivalent of a moderately severe sunburn--no doubt painful, but eminently treatable. Yet his reaction to the light made her realize with despair that as they entered the cave, Spock had not been supporting him, but leading him.

For the Vulcan did not so much as blink when the light flared close beside him, and his pupils remained large and unchanging as the flame grew brighter.

"Are you there, Sarah?" he asked softly as she drew closer. But unlike a human, he did not raise his hand to try to touch her.

Unable to answer, she took his hand in both of hers and pressed it wordlessly. In the silence, she could hear Spock's doggedly persistent: "Spock to Enterprise. Acknowledge, Enterprise. Spock to Enterprise...."

"They're gone," she said tonelessly. Laying Sutek's hand gently aside, she took up her medikit and began to examine her patient.

The admiral's somber face almost filled the bridge viewscreen. He had just informed Kirk that the president of the Federation Council had called an emergency session to convene within the hour--by means of subspace radio, since the council members were spread across half the galaxy on their home planets. The purpose of the session was to decide what action should be taken against the Kiso for the destruction of a Federation colony. "The problem," the admiral was saying, "is that the Kiso claim that a refugee ship from their planet landed on Tara yesterday afternoon, local time. If that's true, Tara was theoretically in violation of the treaty. Captain, do you know anything about this alleged violation?"

"No, sir." Kirk's answer was clipped, and his voice cold. "But if I may say so, sir, twenty-three thousand lives is a high price to demand for a treaty violation."

"Undoubtedly. Undoubtedly. No one denies that, Captain. But the Council wishes to have all available evidence presented. Please be prepared to testify via subspace radio in two hours concerning the incident you witnessed." He paused, hesitating. "Are you sure there are no survivors?"

"Our sensors are unable to function within a hundred kilometers of ground zero," Kirk answered tightly. "It was a very dirty bomb--crude, archaic, but highly effective."

"A Centaurus Hiroshima," said the admiral, who was human.

"Yes, sir."

"Captain Kirk--" Again the admiral hesitated. James Kirk stared straight ahead, as did Scotty, who stood at his left. The rest of the bridge crew bowed their heads or looked away. "No one blames you or your engineer for this. Deep in Federation territory, surrounded by known worlds, barely a parsec from a well-traveled space lane--no one could have foreseen that you would have to phaser an armed SPASM literally at a moment's notice."

"I suppose not," Kirk said softly. "Sir. Thank you, sir."

"And--ah--my sympathy to you and your crew for the loss of your first officer."

"Thank you, sir."

The admiral signed off, and the screen went blank. There was a moment of silence, and then Kirk said quietly, "One more pass, Mr. Sulu."

"Yes, sir." It was only a whisper. Somehow, it was almost like the times that the captain had berated them all for thinking him incompetent when he was--through no fault of his own. But he was not berating them now. He was deadly calm. And that was much worse, although none of them could have explained why.

"Mr. DeVecchio, full sensor scan."

"Yes, sir."

There was another silence as McCoy, looking as though he had aged ten years in the last hour, moved toward the command chair, having waited near the lift while the admiral was speaking. "Jim." He rested his hand on Kirk's shoulder. "There's nothing down there but a maelstrom of heat and radioactivity."

"I know that," Kirk answered. "Intellectually."

"What?"

"Nothing, Bones. It's nothing I can explain--" A brief, painful smile. "Logically. It's probably a hallucination."

"What is?"

Kirk glanced up at him as though he were going to answer. But instead, he gave McCoy a long, searching look. "You don't feel it, do you."

"Jim, what in the name of--"

Kirk shook his head and sighed. "Nothing. Mr. DeVecchio, report."

"Sensor scan yields no new information, sir."

"Lieutenant?"

"Nothing, sir," Uhura whispered.

At last, Sulu said quietly, "Orbit completed, Captain."

The silence was heavy with tension. But Kirk finally said, with infinite fatigue in his voice, "Take her out, then. Warp two." It seemed to McCoy that the bridge crew drew a silent sigh of relief as the captain rose from his chair, looking--for the first time since the tragedy--like a man who had lost his best friend. "Mr. Scott, you have the con."

As he and McCoy rode the lift, Kirk said distractedly, "I'll have to make Scotty acting first officer."

"Acting?" McCoy turned abruptly to face him. But it was McCoy who looked away first. "Jim, get some rest."

"He's not dead, Bones. Somewhere down there--"

"That's insane!"

"That's exactly what Starfleet will say when I tell them I want to come back here after the radiation dissipates."

"The entire population of Tower City was vaporized!"

"I know."

"Spock couldn't possibly have--"

"I know." He touched McCoy's arm lightly in parting. "Don't worry. If it's a hallucination, it'll go away." The lift doors opened and he moved toward his quarters, leaving McCoy staring after him, much more disturbed than he would have been had Kirk been his usual single-minded, authoritative self.

When Spock closed his communicator once more, and apparently for good, Sarah looked up for a moment from her examination. Their gaze held in silence, and then Spock shifted his eyes to Sutek and back again. Sarah shook her head and looked away.

"Both retinas are severely burned," Sutek said softly, almost as though he had seen the exchange. "The damage is irreversible, is it not, Sarah?"

"Yes," she answered, still not looking at Spock. "I'd hoped that your inner eyelids had protected you, but--they didn't."

"One hopes only in the absence of certain knowledge." Sutek sounded calm, but Sarah knew he was in shock rather than controlling. "I was looking directly at Tower City when...." His voice trailed off, and neither of the others seemed able to comment. Then Sutek rested his head against the wall behind him and closed his eyes. "Spock," he said very softly, "help me now."

It was apparently neither a command nor a request, but uttered as though Sutek were simply stating Now is the time. Sarah moved away, but Spock had already knelt next to Sutek on his other side, placing his hand along the side of Sutek's head. They both became quite still, faces almost in repose but unmoving, as though carved from the finest marble, their angular planes casting sharply defined shadows in the light of the flame.

Sarah watched in silence, sensing that Spock was giving Sutek a kind of help that she, a human, could probably not comprehend, let alone provide. Was it only intellectual, she wondered. Or perhaps something else--something like what a human would call emotional support? Even though no Vulcan would ever....

She never knew why she turned just then--turned toward the tunnel opening and looked into two many-faceted eyes, each a hundred times the area of her own.

She and the gigantic insect stared at each other in total silence. The animal was indeed as long as a human adult is tall, and indeed much like an ant. In the light of the flame, Sarah could clearly see the head from which two long, incredibly thin antennae waved; the wingless thorax from which grew the six relatively slender legs of a walking insect; the wide, shining abdomen. But there was a difference, and even in her awe, Sarah was aware of it immediately: the animal's legs were not as slender proportionately as those of a Terran insect, and appeared to contain actual muscular tissue and even skeletal material. Still, the body was plano-convex, testifying to the fact that this great creature moulted and grew another integument lying down. The animal's brain, judging by the size of the head, was larger than Sarah's.

"Spock," she whispered, expecting no answer. If the animal had come too silently for her to hear it, surely the two Vulcans would be oblivious to its presence.

"Speak softly." The answer was no louder than Sarah had spoken. "The creature is apparently neither frightened nor hostile at the moment." There was a pause, and then she heard Spock give a brief but accurate description of the creature in Vulcan, adding that the brain size indicated the possibility of memory storage and comparison--the basis of plastic behavior as differentiated from the rigidly instinctive behavior characteristic of Terran and Vulcan insectoid life. Then, after a moment, Spock added in Standard: "Interesting that she does not appear injured."

It was true. The animal's dark brown integument was uniformly shiny and unbroken, and her various appendages apparently undamaged. What had Eustace George said--that the creature was burned by a blaster last week?

"She doesn't have claws either," Sarah murmured. "And she's not black. Could this be another life form?"

If Spock had been about to answer, she never heard him. At that moment, the creature moved slightly farther into the cave, apparently ignoring Sarah but extending her antennae toward the two Vulcans. There was a moment's silence, and then Sutek, who had been half reclining, suddenly pulled himself to a sitting position, his sightless eyes staring emptily, but the rest of his senses obviously trained on the creature.

"What's happening?" Sarah kept her voice hushed with an effort. For the first time since their visitor appeared, the thought crossed her mind that she ought to be terrified. But she could only feel a growing excitement.

"I believe," Spock answered softly, "that the creature wishes to communicate with Sutek." He was, as his voice conveyed, as completely without fear as she was. Like Sutek's, his expression was one of total--almost joyful--concentration. But unlike Sutek's, his eyes were alive.

"How do you know?" Sarah was filled with an unaccountable certainty that the creature meant them no harm. But communicate?

There was no answer. But watching the two Vulcans, Sarah thought she knew the answer anyway. They were both quite obviously listening to something that she could not hear. The insect made no sound that Sarah could discern other than a faint rustle--as of dry leaves--when she moved.

Spock had dropped to his knees when he originally went to tend Sutek, and Sutek had by now pulled himself up to a similar position so that both their heads were about on a level with the insect's head. She had paused far enough away from them so that her antennae did not quite touch them, but waved a few inches from their foreheads, almost as though she were asking permission for further contact.

After a few moments of total silence, Spock began to talk very softly, and after another second or two, Sarah realized that he was talking to her, attempting to keep her informed on what was happening.

"The creature has the intelligence of a very young human child--perhaps three or four years of age." He sounded vaguely disappointed here, almost as though some preconception had led him to expect more. "I am unable to determine why she is alone here--whether the other adults died naturally or met with an accident."

"It's paraverbal telepathy?"

"Affirmative. I have attempted to warn her of the danger of radioactive fallout, but she does not understand."

He fell silent again, and remained so for some time. But Sarah sensed that he was not as deeply en rapport with the creature as Sutek was. Several times Spock glanced in Sutek's direction, while Sutek did not seem aware of Spock's presence, let alone Sarah's. She began to wonder if he were again in a trance, but when Spock said a few words to him in Vulcan, he responded immediately.

Spock had asked a question, roughly and idiomatically translated: "Do you want to give it a try?" And Sutek's answer, again freely translated: "What have I got to lose?"

"What's happening?" Sarah asked again. But this time neither of them answered her.

Spock rose and silently moved a few steps away. The insect then moved closer to Sutek, slowly reached out with its holding maxillae and touched Sutek lightly on either side of his head.

Sarah repressed a violent shudder. She knew that the animal would not harm Sutek--although she did not know how she knew. And so she remained as immobile as Spock was, watching in complete fascination as the creature continued to hold Sutek's head lightly--and with complete incredulity as Sutek's burns began to fade.

Slowly, slowly, but under their very eyes, the green blotches were beginning to disappear.

The creature had moved past Sarah to reach Sutek, and was still facing away from her. So Sarah was able to see Sutek's face full on--as was Spock, who had moved silently to a position corresponding to Sarah's but on the opposite side of the insect's body.

Sutek's eyes had been open all along, but blank, empty, unresponsive. Then, suddenly, he was looking directly at the insect's face, only a few feet from his. Both Spock and Sarah saw the eyes focus and then widen for just a moment in shock and terror. But Sutek was a Vulcan, and his control was almost immediate, mitigating the effects of seeing the creature for the first time at such close range. Yet he could not entirely control the joy of having sight once again. It shone in his dark eyes as they shifted first to Spock and then to Sarah. His half-smiling lips seemed about to form her name.

And then, nothing.

There was nothing behind those eyes at all. Not sight. Not intelligence. Not even life. It was as though she were looking into skull sockets a billion light years deep. And the scream that burst from Sutek's throat in instant before he ceased to live was cut off, hanging in the air, echoing.

"Don't move."

In the rustle of the creature's panic, Spock's words were almost inaudible. But Sarah heard them and stood absolutely still, sure that all of them would be dead in a moment and almost welcoming the prospect of that release from a life that seemed to be pouring horror upon horror.

"Look at her." Again, Spock. "She doesn't know what happened to him either. Look at her."

Fighting panic, Sarah looked. The creature, her antennae waving aimlessly, was backing away from Sutek, now a limp form huddled on the cave floor. For a moment one glistening compound eye seemed to focus on Sarah, almost pleadingly. Or perhaps in terror--fear of retaliation?

"Don't move," Spock repeated. "If we startle her, she may attack. But I do not believe she will attack unless provoked."

They waited in rigid silence while the creature backed away into the tunnel, its antennae still waving as though in panic. Again one eye seemed to search Sarah's face, and she had the distinct impression that the creature was every bit as terrified as she was, and as confused.

As soon as the frightened rustle died away, both of them made for Sutek.

He was dead, according to every reading on Sarah's medical scanner. Yet there were neither burns nor scars on his face. And the scanner, even after careful adjustment, also indicated that both retinas were intact.

The only thing it refused to indicate was the cause of death. For Sutek--a healthy Vulcan male in the human equivalent of late adolescence--had apparently simply stopped breathing.

Sarah sat on the floor next to Sutek's body, her knees drawn up and her forehead resting on them. She was aware that Spock sat opposite her, on the other side of the body--cross-legged, meditating. Her own state was somewhat similar: for these few moments at least, she did not think in any coherent way, but simply drifted between consciousness and a light doze, wishing she need not think at all. But then, after her mind began to work again in spite of everything, she raised her head and looked down at Sutek's face.

Spock had closed the Vulcan's eyes, and in the flickering light of the flame, he appeared asleep.

You would understand, wouldn't you, my friend? she thought. You were a scientist, and a Vulcan. Would it be logical for us to try to keep alive here without trying to find out what killed you?

She knew the answer. But she was not Vulcan. And so she dreaded what she knew must be done.

When Spock roused himself, she said, not moving: "I'm glad you're a Vulcan too."

"Indeed?" His voice sounded tired, and his eyebrows barely rose.

"I know I don't have to explain to you what our next step is--logically. But humans have...emotional attitudes about autopsies."

"And you?"

"He was my friend." Silence. "Or maybe you don't know what that means?" Silence. "I'm sorry," she said finally. "Let's get on with it."

Half an hour later, she found that she could not watch as Spock vaporized what remained of Sutek with his phaser. And the fact that they had, in half an hour, discovered nothing new about the cause of Sutek's death did not help her state of mind. No internal injuries. No foreign substances in the body. But....

Still unable to comprehend, she reviewed again the incredible evidence she and Spock had seen with their own eyes: Sutek's retinas were not only intact, but totally free of scar tissue. Literally as good as new. As though they had never been burned.

"He looked at me," she said softly, feeling as though she were repeating an incantation. "He saw me. Just before he screamed."

"Doctor --" She turned and saw that Spock was watching her with a faint frown. "There are several varieties of Thermocan foods among our supplies. I suggest that the logical thing for you to do at the moment is to eat and rest."

"What about you?"

"I," Spock replied, "am not pregnant." Then, as Sarah turned to stare at his back, he moved toward the tunnel. "It is also necessary that I block this entrance, since we do not know whether it leads outside. I have my work cut out for me. You have done yours. I therefore suggest that we discuss the reasons for Sutek's death while you are sitting down. Do you have any objections?"

Sarah opened her mouth, discovered that she had no objections, closed it again, and went to get herself a Thermocan of chicken broth.

Eustace George had been a planner, and very thorough in taking every precaution to ensure the safety of his family in the event of their incarceration in the shelter. A water tank--apparently originally a domestic hot water heater--contained enough flat-tasting but untainted water to last five people for several weeks, and more than enough to keep Sarah and Spock for the month and a half that he anticipated. A variety of canned goods, many of them an Earth-made self-heating brand called Thermocan, lined the shelves in one of the two metal cabinets in the room. The other contained children's clothing, blankets, and four identical outfits that made Sarah suspect that the governor and his wife had been about the same size: canvas-like pants and shapeless sweaters, both far too wide at the shoulders and short in the limbs for either Sarah or Spock to wear them comfortably. But she donned one of the sweaters gratefully. The outfit she wore had been intended for traveling and was practically styled and comfortable, but not heavy. And it was damp in the cave.

She sat drinking her soup, watching Spock taking inventory of their supplies. The flame still burned brightly, and he had discovered several fully charged Permalites in one of the cupboards, along with first aid equipment that would supplement Sarah's medical kit.

"Whatever she did," she was saying as he discovered and began to examine a good-sized hotstone, "she did it like a laser. None of the surrounding tissues were even touched. She was totally selective."

"Her powers are apparently much more sophisticated than her level of intelligence would suggest."

"You said a three-year-old child."

"An approximation only. The creature's powers of conceptualization are not complex. She was able to communicate telepathically with both Sutek and me without physical contact, but I do not believe that she grasped even the rudiments of the concept of radioactive fallout, and may even now be outside the mountain." He glanced at the pile of phaser-fused rock that covered the tunnel entrance with an airtight seal.

"The month and a half that you said we'd be in here--that was an approximation too?"

He had begun to inspect the cooking unit again, even though he had already given it a thorough inspection. "I believe," he said carefully, "that I said that tropospheric fallout would continue for as long as a month and a half. I estimated the duration of our stay in this shelter as two or three months."

"Just to be on the safe side, you mean."

"Indeed."

"Because of the baby."

"Primarily. We could also suffer genetic damage." Not looking at her, he returned the hotstone to its storage compartment and began to rearrange the canned goods, still with his back to her. He seemed more tense since they had begun to discuss the fallout again, and certainly with reason. In her concern about the child she now carried, she had not until now thought to consider the implications of their situation for children that either of them might have in the future. But Spock was a Vulcan, and Vulcans did not think in short-range terms--

"The captain would have married you."

For the second time in a few minutes, Sarah found herself staring at his back. Then she mentally reversed herself to the point at which his thoughts had obviously diverged from hers. Having done that, she leaned her forehead against the still-warm soup can in her hand. Here we go again. Yet she found it rather touching that Jim Kirk's friends had so much confidence in him.

"I did not wish to marry the captain, Mr. Spock," she said gently, drained the last of the broth, set the can aside and hugged her knees once again, resting her forehead on them. Spock went on sorting cans. Vulcans might control, she thought ruefully, but when one disapproved of you, you knew it. "Oh, come on," she said a bit irritably, and then sighed. "Just my luck to do the Robinson Crusoe bit with the prim and proper Vulcan."

"I have been called many things, Doctor, but never--" articulating precisely "--'prim and proper.'" There was something a little plaintive in his tone, and also a faint touch of amusement. But he did not turn from his sorting.

Their day--or what they calculated as a day--was almost over before they again spoke about themselves.

The supplies indeed included parlor games, and several sets of playing cards. After they had had a small evening meal only to discover that neither of them was tired enough to sleep, Spock reluctantly agreed to a game of gin rummy after Sarah firmly vetoed chess.

She dealt the cards as they sat facing each other on the floor, now wearing over their own clothing two of the shapeless sweaters, the sleeves ending halfway down Spock's arms and barely reaching Sarah's wrists. As she finished dealing, she remarked on how silly they looked, giggled, and then found herself sobbing. Throwing the cards aside, she hugged her knees once more and buried her face against them. Fear and despair seemed to choke her, and the crying seemed endless--all the tears that she had not shed for the thousands who had died that day, for the friend she had lost, and in memory of her wrecked life and that of her child. She cried until there were no more tears left, all the time growing more and more aware of the silent Other who waited patiently for the storm to clear--simply there, quiet and solid and real, between her and total isolation.

When it was over, she wiped her face, blew her nose, and said shakily, "Well, that takes care of that, I guess." She drew a deep breath and picked up her cards. "At least the baby won't have to be born in here in the dark." Her voice broke on the last word, but there were no more tears to shed today.

They played in silence for a few moments, but she knew his mind was not on the game and was not surprised when he asked quietly, "Were you going to destroy the child?"

None of your damn business. But it was only a thought, and not a very vigorous one. They were stuck with one another, would probably die without seeing another living soul other than her child, and such conditions could not but militate against reticence. He had already asked a question that no Vulcan would ask of a mere acquaintance, and she saw no reason not to answer it. "No. I was going to keep him."

"There is a probability of 51.03 percent," he informed her expressionlessly, "that 'he' is a 'she.'"

"Yes. Well--" But whatever she had been going to say seemed to drift away. This child she had not chosen to conceive but had chosen to keep would be a boy or a girl--a fundamental individuating concept that she had not thought of consciously until this minute. This is a person, just like me. The thought was obscurely comforting, even joyful.

She realized that Spock had been watching her expression change and then looked away, obviously moved and trying to control it.

"What's wrong?"

"You look...different when you're happy." He rose abruptly, laying his cards on the pile. "I regret, Doctor, that gin rummy is not my game." He was obviously trying to speak lightly rather than rudely, and in the main succeeding. But he moved restlessly away toward the rock pile guarding the tunnel entrance and began to examine it intently, his back to her once again.

"I remind you of someone." It was not really a question, for she expected that he would not answer.

At first he did not. But then he said quietly, "That was long ago. Longer than you would believe." His tone touched her deeply, for it spoke of profound sadness coupled with profound resignation. Impatiently, she wished that she had left well enough alone.

"Spock," she said with mock gravity, "I want to tell you something. Promise you won't laugh?"

The effect she had sought was almost instantaneous. He turned, full of half Vulcan consternation. "Laugh?"

Beautiful. "I always wished that my name was Jill instead of Sarah."

For a moment she wondered if some of the early Vulcans had been pixies. "As in 'Jack and'?"

"No, no--nothing to do with that. Sarah is such a dull-sounding name, but Jill is...well, an interesting name." Oh-oh.

"Interesting?"

"Not 'interesting.' Interesting. Oh, never mind." But he was almost smiling. Almost. "Well, at least you didn't laugh."

"You asked me not to." Still, almost smiling.

She had no sense of what time it was when they finally lay down for the night, wrapped in two of Eustace George's sleeping bags against the dampness of the cave. Her chronometer said it was mid-evening, Tara time. But her internal time sense was in chaos.

The cave was dark now except for the soft fungus-like glow on the rocks. The tunnel entrance was securely blocked, and Spock's tricorder had detected no other life forms in the area. But still she could not sleep.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, she spoke aloud. "What could make a Vulcan scream like that?"

She caught her breath, now certain that her intuition had misled her and Spock was asleep. He had made no sound and no movement for hours. Or could it only be moments....

"I do not know," he answered immediately. "But--sleep now. It will soon be morning."

"Morning," she repeated softly, almost mockingly. But not quite. She knew that there were things they would have to do to preserve their hold on reality.

"We must keep to the days."

"I know." And she thought, We'll have to make marks or something, so we know how long it's been.

And then she thought, She won't be born in the dark, though.

And then she was asleep--frightened, heartsick, disoriented, but able to sleep anyway because she was not alone.

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