Black Fire (10 page)

He shook his head.

"I will try to find something you can eat before I return."

"How is Mister Scott?" he asked, wanting to turn the conversation away from himself.

"I haven't seen him since we were separated. I imagine he's having a difficult time as well."

"How did you manage to get away from the guards?"

"It was relatively simple. They have set patterns. All I had to do was wait until they were at their lowest manpower and take advantage of the situation. But I must leave before I am missed. I'm sure I'll be able to get away again. IIsa is keeping me and Scott alive to cover her interest in you. I will leave the water where you can reach it." She touched his face gently, hinting at the bond which had been established between them.

Shortly after she left, a guard came into the cell and moved the bowl of water beyond his reach again.

At every opportunity, Julina searched for Scott. She was allowed brief periods of exercise, which she took in the vicinity of the hills outside the compound. The guards thought her preoccupation with plants strange, but harmless, and permitted her to collect the sparse dandelionlike growth as she wished. She stored the pathetic plants, planning to give them to Spock at the earliest opportunity. A full day passed before she got away again.

She found him much weaker than before: He was barely conscious. Gently reviving him, she forced the wilted greens into Spock to give him strength.

"You must try to hold on, Spock. Placus will return with a rescue group. Please try. You must live. Tell me you will try."

"I will," he promised faintly, watching her leave.

5

Scott's engineering skills made him valuable. He was assigned to the launch complex under IIob's supervision, but under closer guard. He was waiting for the opportunity to slip by the guards to find Julina and Spock. During his exercise period, he worked his way closer and closer to the compound, until he got a glimpse of Julina collecting plants. He made a dash for her, pursued by his guards.

"Have ye seen Spock?" he asked, as they dragged him away.

"Yes," she shouted. "He needs help very soon or we will lose him."

"Try ta meet me here again!" he shouted.

She was determined to try. Once more, Julina slipped to Spock's side—it even seemed easier for her to get away this time.
The guards are getting lax
, she hoped. She was finding a way to get to Spock regularly, providing him with food and water. Even so, he was barely getting enough to survive, and was getting progressively weaker. It was only because of her persistent care that he was still alive at all. He asked about Scott. She vowed to meet with the engineer before her next visit.

The next day she foraged further, reaching the edge of the launch site. Scott spotted her and took his exercise toward the field where she was collecting her plants. He worked his way toward her casually and this time got close enough to speak to her. Their apparent placid behavior fooled the guards, so they were permitted to converse uninterrupted.

"How is Spock?" was Scott's greeting.

"He's very weak. Help must come soon. He wants us to try to escape without him. If we choose to do so, he will surely die."

"… And if we don't, we all may," Scott said grimly. "But I willna leave without him. Would you?"

"No," Julina said firmly. Scott saw how deeply she had come to care for Spock.

"Julina," he tried to reassure her, "Placus will return soon."

"He will—if he is able."

"The Klingons won't. I don't think a rescue party would ha' come for them even if they could be found."

"True, Scott. Klee told me as much. Our Empire considered our mission a minor one as well. No one will be sent to rescue us either. If Placus does not return, we have no hope of rescue. What about the Federation?"

"Our mission was …" He paused. "Ye might say it was, ah, unofficial. No one knows where we are,"

"Oh …" Julina was about to say something else when the guards, having permitted their charges as much time as they thought sufficient, prodded Scott to return to work. Julina, with an armful of wilted greens and flowers, walked back to the compound.

Spock felt himself getting weaker. He knew his Vulcan strength would keep him alive for a long period of time after he lost consciousness and that he could remain comatose for days before he finally died. He awaited Julina's next visit with a firm resolve to make a vital request of her.

When she returned, Julina found Spock sleeping. She took his hand, which seemed very thin, in hers, and sat quietly beside him as he slept. She studied his gaunt features and wondered if Spock would survive. Suddenly, Spock's hand tightened on hers with surprising strength. She raised the water bowl to his lips as she always did, but this time he refused to drink.

His voice was hoarse and he spoke with effort. "We must talk, Julina."

Gently, she brought the water to his lips. "First you eat and drink—then we talk."

"No, Julina. I must speak now." He tightened his grasp on her hand. "Would you escape now if you could?"

"Yes, but I would not leave you here, helpless."

"If I were able to leave, would you consider escape?"

"I would. But you are helpless. Without my visits you would die. I won't leave you!"

"And Scott—he feels as you do?"

"Yes."

"I thought so," Spock said firmly. "Julina, you must do something for me. I have considered this very carefully. What I ask will not be easy for you, but it is the logical and necessary thing to do."

"What would you have me do? I will not attempt to escape without you."

"It does not concern an escape attempt."

"I will help you in any way. You know that."

"Then bring me a way of ending my life. A weapon, poison, whatever you can obtain for that purpose."

"No!" She tried to draw her hand from his. "I will not help you destroy yourself!"

"You must. I will explain my reasoning. Your Romulan teaching has equipped you to understand the necessity of my request. I am completely helpless, a deterrent to both your and Scott's survival. As long as I live, you will not try to escape. Therefore, the deterring factor must be eliminated. I am that factor. In my position, you, also, would choose death with dignity. I am slowly dying. Soon I will be unable to destroy myself. Each time you come you find me weaker. I believe you are permitted to come here to help prolong my suffering so that IIsa will obtain more perverse satisfaction from my situation. You would release your Romulan companions from such a fate. Would you condemn me to a lingering death to entertain an enemy—or will you permit me to die quickly, with dignity?"

She broke down. "You are right. I would choose a quick death rather than allow an enemy to enjoy my suffering. I can do no less for you. I will bring you what you wish." She calmed.

"Thank you," Spock said, releasing her hand.

Julina returned with a small dagger IIsa customarily wore on her arm for ceremonies. It was more decorative than useful. The blade was very short, which made it easy for Julina to secrete the dagger and bring it to Spock. It wouldn't be missed until the next day, if IIsa chose to wear it.

The Vulcan examined the jeweled dagger dispassionately. It was beautiful, made by a fine craftsman on an unknown planet far away. Spock made silent tribute to the artisan who created such an object of beauty for his purpose. Then he spoke to Julina, who sat beside him on the stone pallet, studying him.

"I had no intention of asking you to assist me, but I feel I am too weak to use the knife effectively. I will guide the dagger; you must help provide the thrust."

"I won't! I can't!" she protested fiercely, but she knew his Vulcan logic would prove his request an undeniable one.

"Julina, don't make me beg for your help… ." He gripped her hand tightly.

"No, Spock, don't say any more. You're right. I will do whatever you say."

He guided her hand, placing the dagger above his heart. "Now," he commanded her. She added thrust to his, plunging the knife fiercely into his side.

She drew back, releasing the knife, and Spock's hand slid limply from beneath hers. She ran her fingertips over his features, lingering a moment over his mouth, and whispered, "I love you," into his deaf ear. She quietly left.

The guard, who was under orders to check Spock after each of Julina's visits, casually entered the cell. A pool of green had already formed on the gray stone floor. At the sight of the blood, the guard rushed to Spock's side, finding the dagger protruding from him. He sounded the alarm and the other guards responded efficiently. They apprehended Julina immediately.

The commotion could be heard all the way to the launch site. IIob and Scott ran to the compound with the others to see what had happened. Scott could see Julina held by two strong guards. IIsa, carrying a spear, came toward her. He raced toward Julina, watching in horror as IIsa raised the spear and plunged it into the Romulan woman, killing her instantly.

"What's happened?" Scott shouted. "Why did you kill her?" He ran toward the body of the beautiful Romulan he had come to trust and admire, cradling her limp form in his arms, ignoring the streams of blood seeping from her wound.

"Why?" was all he could ask, looking up at IIsa, who stood looking down at him and her victim .

IIsa turned to the guard. "Is the Vulcan dead? If he is, you will pay. You were ordered to watch the woman when she visited him."

"I don't know, Begum," he said fearfully. "I didn't have the time to check carefully."

"Bring him along," she ordered the guard, gesturing to Scott. He pushed Scott ahead of him into Spock's cell.

Scott was stunned at the sight of Spock's seemingly lifeless form lying with the jeweled knife still embedded in his side. He tried to find a trace of life. He couldn't find a heartbeat or pulse, but that wasn't unusual with Vulcans. IIsa had a brightly polished buckle on her belt; Scott ripped it from her before he could be stopped.

"I need it to see if he's still alive," he explained.

"Go to him," IIsa said quietly.

With evidence of the Vulcan's faint breathing on the mirrored surface, Scott kneeled beside Spock, examining the wound in the Vulcan's side. The seepage of blood was an ominous sign. Scott could hardly understand how Spock could have survived this long in his weakened condition.
Why did Julina try ta kill him? It doesn't make sense. What could have possessed her?
The thoughts poured through his head while he tried to think of what to do next.

"Can you save him?" IIsa asked worriedly.

"You're the one responsible for his condition," he retorted. "But I'll do ma best. I'm nae physician—I may kill him. He's Vulcan, and even for a human I'm nae equipped ta handle this. First we've got ta get him out o' this hole into a clean, warm place. I dinna think we can move him with that knife still in him. I'm goin' ta remove it an' try ta keep him from bleedin' ta death before I do anythin' else. Then we can move him."

"Do as he says," IIsa ordered the guards.

Scott clenched his jaw and reached for the knife, pulling it out. A stream of fresh blood welled out of the wound. He quickly placed a piece of hide cut from Spock's garment onto the wound and applied pressure.

"Now, carry him carefully while I keep pressure on this," Scott ordered.

The guards obeyed him, gently lifting the limp form of the Vulcan and carrying him into the Begum's quarters.

"He must be kept warm," Scott directed, and a fire was started. "Blankets, I'll need lots o' blankets," the Scotsman demanded. A thick pile of furs was brought to his side.

He covered Spock with the hides, fur side toward him for extra warmth. Spock was in deep shock. Scott shook his head hopelessly.

"I dinna know if I can really help him," he said sadly. He withdrew his hand from the wound, causing a river of green to flow onto the shining furs.

"I think it missed his heart an' hit a rib—maybe pierced a lung—I canna tell."

With a rough bone needle and gut soaked in his ever-present pouch of home brew, Scott sewed the layers of flesh as best he could. When he had finished, he sank back, exhausted and drained.

"It's out of ma hands now," he muttered. He rested his head on his arms, prepared for a long night's vigil. Throughout the entire operation, IIsa stood behind Scott, fascinated by what he was doing; she had never witnessed an attempt to save a wounded man before.

Reason for her actions would be hard to justify to her subjects. It wasn't a rational decision; it was purely an emotional one. Even she couldn't completely understand her attraction to this alien captive. She placed herself on a couch covered with rich furs and waited with Scott.

The engineer wrapped himself in a fur robe and sank down on the floor beside Spock. He dozed occasionally in the quiet and warmth of the room. It seemed forever since he had been comfortable.

A small movement of Spock's hand brought him to attention. Spock was beginning to regain consciousness. His eyelids fluttered, then he opened his eyes. He looked up at a broadly smiling Scott. Then he closed his eyes and slept.

In the following days, broth was forced into Spock, who was too weak to resist. IIsa supervised his care personally, making sure he was regularly fed and kept warm. When it was apparent he would live, Spock yielded to the inevitable and stopped fighting his recovery. But he was completely silent and withdrawn.

Scott was alarmed. He tried to find a way to interest Spock in life again. He stayed up all night carving a crude chess set from bone, but Spock failed to respond. He had to find a way to bring the detached and remote Vulcan back to full alertness. Removing a small piece of hide from his belt, Scott took out the crystalline dart from Paxas, placing it into Spock's unresisting hand. The odd sensation emanating from the crystal resonated through the Vulcan's arm. As the strange sensation grew, so did his interest.

"Whre did you get this?" were the first words he spoke since his suicide attempt. He now had a mental challenge, and the scientist in him was functioning again.