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  A male Tomariian, wearing a spotted skin, spun Scott around, examining the Scotsman with interest. "He will serve as my standard-bearer. He is the engineer, I understand. Useful. What are you called?" he asked Scott.

  Scott didn't answer. He turned to Spock, who gave a small affirmative nod. Scott then responded, "Commander Montgomery Scott."

  "Good, Montgomery. We shall be a winning team. I am IIob."

  Another of the Tomariians, broader and stronger than the others, stood in front of the Klingons. "I will have these two. They seem to be more likely warriors than the others. My band needs strong men."

  "No. I will have one of them," another Tomariian shouted, grabbing Commander Klee's arm and pulling him to his side. The Klingon resisted fiercely. "He will make a fine addition to my ranks."

  The argument between the Tomariians over possession of the two Klingons came close to blows. IIsa finally stepped between them.

  "They should be separated. Each of you will take one. I will not tolerate any argument. We will proceed."

  Another Tomariian chose Delas, the tallest of the Romulans. Sub-commander Placus, the remaining Romulan, was claimed by a smaller Tomariian, who looked his captive over with disapproval.

  "He seems too slight to be of much use. I think I have drawn the weakest of the lot. But I will do my best." He turned to IIsa. "I do not understand your choice, Begum. You seem to have chosen the least likely of the group."

  "It is my choice, IIram. We shall see. Come, Spock. We have much to do. Follow me." She touched Julina. "You will come with me as well."

  They walked, surrounded by an armed escort, through the bleak Tomariian landscape. Spock's scientific eye perceived the lack of mineral potential of the rock as he walked.

  "This is one of the most resource-poor planets I have ever seen support life of a higher order," Spock murmured to his fellow prisoner. "There are too many inconsistencies. The technology of spaceflight should be accompanied by a more complex material culture than we see here. Their ability to control a force such as the one holding our hands and their use of knives and spears as weapons is incongruous. There are further discrepancies. Finally, I don't understand what they want of us."

  "Neither do I," Julina agreed. "We must be patient."

  "I must have more facts before I can make a proper analysis," he said, thinking aloud.

  The prod of a spear in his back brought Spock back to attention. He had been lagging behind the others and was forced to quicken his pace to catch up. Each step caused a jabbing pain in his back; he was breathless when he reached IIsa's side. She looked at Spock with a puzzled expression. All she had heard on the Enterprise about the Vulcan seemed wrong—he didn't seem able to keep the pace of a normal march.

  They soon reached a quadrangle of stone buildings and entered the compound through a narrow, guarded passage. The courtyard was large and bare. All the structures were built of gray stone, as was the courtyard floor. It was by far the most colorless of living compounds Spock had ever seen.

  He watched IIsa's every move. She lightly touched a ring on her third finger, releasing the bond on his hands. Julina, once freed, was flexing her arms, encouraging the circulation which had been inhibited; Spock stamped his feet, trying to get some sensation back into his right leg. The numbness was becoming more pronounced. He wasn't sure how long it would be before his weakness would be discovered and his usefulness ended. He was convinced by all he had seen, and by his conversation with IIsa, that physical strength was of prime importance in this culture. He concentrated on appearing vigorous.

  A curious group of Tomariians had surrounded them when they entered the courtyard. A female, obviously a retainer of some kind, handed IIsa a bulky packet of skins. She handed a rich, spotted one to Spock, and a tawny gold one to Julina.

  "Put these on," she ordered, presenting the scanty clothing to her prisoners. Spock and Julina both hesitated but IIsa was insistent. "Put them on now!"

  "Now?" Spock asked, looking around at the staring crowd.

  "Here and now, as I demand. Or do you want me to have you stripped and dressed forcibly?"

  Resigned to the fact that he had no choice, Spock yielded. "Force will not be necessary; we will comply with your order."

  He started removing his tunic, and Julina, following his lead, did the same. As Spock stripped, a young male Tomariian approached and ran his hand up the Vulcan's bare arm and chest. Spock maintained his exterior calm thanks to years of Vulcan disciplinary training. Other Tomariians followed the boy's example, murmuring startled comments when they touched the bare skin of the strange man and woman. But it was Julina whom Spock studied. The barbaric skins hid nothing of her beauty. She looked like a primitive goddess, challenging all comers. She could be an ancient Vulcan warmaiden, he thought, staring pensively at her.

  Julina returned Spock's gaze. The spotted skin he was wearing was made for a stockier form. It hung loosely on his thin frame, exposing his recent weight loss.

  IIsa examined him carefully. "We must put some meat on those bones, Spock. Maybe that will quicken your step." She ran her hand over the deep scar on Spock's back, touching the area in which the sliver still lay embedded near his spine. "This looks like a recent wound," she observed.

  Spock did not respond.

  "You were on the bridge when I set the explosion. I remember seeing you there. You were injured in the blast?"

  "Yes."

  "Seriously?"

  "The injury has not deterred my ability to function."

  She ran her hand over the scar again. "I'm glad it was not more serious. You are the most interesting of our prisoners."

  Without another word, IIsa walked toward the central building, indicating with a flourish of her hand for Spock and Julina to follow. They were grateful to move, both to get away from the staring crowd and to keep from freezing in the Tomariian cold.

  2

  The engineer in Scott was in a constant state of excitement over the opportunity to explore the unique technology of Tomarii. He went through the military maneuvers each day as he was expected to, but returned each afternoon to the rocket base with his captor, IIob, the general of the Tomariian fleet.

  These primitive computers would be a marvel to Spock if he could see them. I must find a way to get to Spock. But then his attention would focus on another archaic technical wonder and he would find himself studying the new discovery with avid interest.

  The launch system was simple; it required a great deal of manpower, but basically it was a simple chemical rocket launch from a standard gantry. Scott had the opportunity to examine the inside of one of the vessels and discovered another level of technological achievement. Once in orbit, the vehicle had warp potential, a matter/antimatter drive, and a life-support system as sophisticated as any he had ever seen. He could discover no transporterlike device. It seemed they simply dropped to the planet's surface in much the same archaic manner as they were launched, accounting for the jolt upon landing.

  IIob was a relatively reasonable being. Once he understood just how much Scott's knowledge of engineering surpassed his own, he gave the engineer a free hand, studying his procedures and absorbing them quickly. IIsa had indicated how advanced the Federation's technology was. It was IIob's responsibility to incorporate the new knowledge into the Tomariian systems; he expected to have a more advanced launch technique soon. His contributions to the upcoming maneuvers would be vital.

  Wearing the skins he was given, and with the thick beard and longer hair he was growing, Scott looked like a Celtic warrior of old. In the morning's military practice, he carried IIob's banner at the head of the march, appearing as primitive as his hairy companions.

  While he taught IIob a few technological tricks, IIob in turn had told him almost all he needed to know about Tomariian technology. It was information crucial in formulating an escape plan. His apparent cooperation allowed Scott to move freely and study the Tomariian weaknesses. He hadn't seen Spock, nor had he heard anything of the
others who had been captured with him. With no other option, he was biding his time, awaiting the opportunity to communicate his discoveries to one of the others.

  The Klingons fared very well since the Tomariian warrior society was not unlike their own. Yet they, too, were studying the weaknesses of their enemy with the intention to escape. With typical pragmatism, Commander Klee was contemplating, with vengeful anticipation, the possibilities of a Klingon takeover in this virgin territory.

  Placus and Delus, the Romulan captives, took more of an intellectual approach to their confinement. They surprised their captors with their physical strength and endurance. The Romulans were capable of ferocity equal to the Klingons'—if adequately provoked. Julina was a born warrior; trained in the Romulan tradition, she was an expert in rapid strategic decision-making, the use of complex weaponry, and hand-to-hand combat. She outdid IIsa the training sessions each morning, particularly in those exercises which required agility and speed. IIsa watched the Romulan commander with great interest, and some jealousy.

  Spock's prowess with the primitive weapons was almost equal to IIsa's; had he been in top physical condition, he would have astounded his captors with his abilities. As it was, he held his own by forcing himself to perform each task while masking his growing disability. But from what IIsa had learned on the Enterprise, Spock should have been performing even better. She decided to confront him with her disappointment in his training-session performance. In the cavernous room which served for her audiences, IIsa questioned her prisoner.

  "Spock, you are not performing well enough in the preparations for battle. I find your prowess is not equal to what I expected. Is there some difficulty?"

  "Begum," he addressed her respectfully, "it must be the lack of food. There is insufficient plant life to sustain me."

  "Then you must eat the meat we provide for you."

  "I cannot eat animal flesh."

  "You mean you will not, Spock. You choose not to cooperate. I will not have you weakened further because of some Vulcan ideal. It is wasteful and would spoil my plan. Must I force the food into you?"

  Spock placed his hands behind his back and took a determined stance. "That would be an unfortunate choice on your part, Begum. I would be forced to resist, which could cause me injury. I know you do not wish me injured. I do not entirely understand why you have taken me and the other prisoners, but I can see it is definitely to your advantage that we remain strong and healthy. I am correct, am I not?"

  "Yes, Spock," IIsa conceded. "I do need you at your full strength. I have sent for the food you require. In turn, you must promise to try to perform better."

  "I will do my best, Begum." Spock replied docilely, aware that he would have a much more difficult time masking his physical deterioration from IIsa in the future.

  The nights were nearly unbearable. Both Spock and Julina suffered intensely from the cold. They were quartered together as IIsa's captives. For Spock, the lack of privacy was just one more annoyance; for Julina, accustomed to bivouacking with her men, it was a satisfactory arrangement. They slept on a pile of furs on the stone floor, which barely provided enough warmth. It was the practical Romulan commander who finally arrived at a partial solution to remedy the discomfort.

  "Spock, we are both freezing. If we sleep together and share our body warmth, we'd both benefit."

  "I prefer to sleep alone" was the stiff response.

  "Consider the arrangement as a practical necessity. It is a logical solution to the problem."

  He had to concede she was right.

  It didn't take Julina long to notice her companion's discomfort when she made even the slightest move beside him in the night. She also noticed his difficulty in rising in the morning. Finally, after a particularly grueling day, when Spock lay down beside her in the dark, Julina could hear his uneven breathing as he fought to control the pain. She drew close to him for warmth; he winced when she touched him.

  The darkness and the intimacy of their sleeping arrangements made Julina breach the unspoken agreement between them to keep their rapport on the level of a pragmatic alliance. Julina was aware of Spock's emotional restraint concerning her; she understood and accepted it. She had made no advances toward Spock, but that did not reflect any lack of desire on her part to do so. Her concern now was more immediate—Spock was in pain. She spoke with the darkness as an ally, hiding her deep concern.

  "Spock, I must speak with you."

  He was silent, struggling to cover his discomfort.

  "I know you are in pain. I have been aware of it for some time. It is time you told me what is wrong. I want to help you."

  "I prefer not to discuss my physical condition. I am quite all right."

  "You might be able to hide your problem from IIsa, but not from me. The slightest move on my part causes you severe discomfort. I can tell it's getting worse. Please, permit me to share your burden. I might be able to ease your condition."

  "There is no way you can help me," Spock said wearily.

  "I'm sure you are aware of Romulan abilities, Spock; we are of the same genetic strain. We have a limited ability to link with the mind."

  "Yes, I am aware of Romulan telepathic abilities. You are not the first Romulan I have met, Julina. My experience with another Romulan commander was quite … illuminating."

  For an instant, a flash of jealousy struck Julina. Her competitive nature took precedence over her normal calm stoicism. "You have known another Romulan woman?"

  Spock didn't answer; he remained silent in the darkness.

  Julina controlled her jealous outburst. "It doesn't matter, Spock. We are here now, and you need help. Permit me to relieve you of some of your pain. Tell me why you suffer so."

  Her persistence could not be ignored. Spock realized he would have no peace until he told her what she wanted to know. He spoke quietly.

  "I told IIsa a half-truth. The explosion on board the Enterprise was devastating. I carry a sliver of metal near my spine which could not be removed immediately. It is causing me great pain. I am able to control it, marginally. I am beginning to lose feeling in my right leg. I can hardly keep from limping now. Soon I will be unable to hide the weakness. You cannot keep the metal from moving, or the physical deterioration from taking place. I was warned of this possibility, but I chose to ignore it."

  Julina turned toward Spock, placing her hands lightly on his temple. She pressed the area much as a Vulcan would, sharing his pain for a brief moment before she pulled away, unable to tolerate any more.

  "Spock, I hadn't realized how intensely you were suffering. I am afraid I can only partially help you."

  He held her hands to prevent another meld, but she freed them, again placing her probing fingers on his head, drawing some of his pain into herself.

  3

  The solar cycle was nearly over. The red sun that dominated the Tomariian day faded even more and the planet became unbearably cold. It was time for the war campaigns to begin.

  The prisoners had been trained and now preparations were being made for battle. The rockets were ready for firing; their on-ground support crews were ready to retreat to warmer, underground chambers throughout the long cycle of Tomariian cold. The purpose of the warfare and where it would occur were still mysteries to the prisoners, who, with their Tomariian captors, boarded the ships to leave the planet. Spock and Julina were placed in the lead ship with IIsa. The others went with their Tomariian custodians into the other ships, ready for takeoff.

  Spock's curiosity could not be suppressed; he was too reliant on information to formulate some strategy to deal with the situation, to be kept completely uninformed for much longer. He chafed to be on the bridge where the Begum was directing her forces. Forced to sit in the confines of a small compartment in the bowels of the ship, the Vulcan reflected on the fats he did possess, sharing his observations with Julina.

  "These Tomariians remain an enigma. Their architecture and other material culture is as bleak as any I have ever encounter
ed. IIsa's household, however, contains some objects of astonishing beauty. That gold cup she is so proud of is so finely wrought that it has the intricacy of a spider's web, and the plate on the wall is cast with a delicacy of workmanship beyond anything I have ever seen in the craft. A sculpture which she has half-obscured in a corner has lines so carefully balanced they would overwhelm even a Vulcan's sense of aesthetics.

  "There are other things which do not fit in with the Tomariian utilitarian existence. These artifacts seem to be from different planets, with different concepts of design and material, collected in what seems to be a random sampling. And not all of what has been accumulated is of value. Some is absolutely worthless. The Tomariians seem to make no distinction between the truly artistic masterpiece and the tourist items sold on pleasure planets."

  "It makes no sense to me at all, Spock. I have never confronted any race or culture like this in all of my space experience."

  "Neither have I," Spock said, continuing his analysis. "The animal skins Tomariians choose to wear are primitive—I can think of no better word to describe them. Their jewelry, except for that which is obviously a device, such as IIsa's ring, varies in quality as much as the other artifacts I have examined. I am convinced they are the spoils of war, a collection of samples taken from many different worlds by the Tomariians."

  "I tend to agree with you. But if what you say is true, they have a much greater sphere of influence than I would have imagined."

  "Yes, and in this context, the inconsistencies in technology are explained," he commented. "The Tomariians use the technology they acquire from their conquered enemies, taking what they find useful. They discard things they regard as superfluous, so their technology, like their collection of artifacts, is piecemeal. They are not innovators, simply Scavengers, developing only enough of their own technology to have started them in their ventures of conquest. How broad their influence is remains to be determined. But from what I can deduce, it is impressively extensive."