Romulans, so both Spock and Scott stood by helplessly while the Romulans and Klingons threw their weapons onto the desert floor with angry resignation.
"Now, place your hands behind your backs," ordered the disembodied voice from behind the hill. Spock suddenly found his hands bound behind him with a force he was unable to resist. He saw no visible restraints on the others when they, too, appeared to have their hands held behind them with an invisible bond.
"If this is a sample of their technology and power, I may have underestimated our enemy," Spock observed.
"Aye," Scott agreed. "We're in a sorry predicament now!"
From all sides, small, stocky men approached their captives. Spock raised an eyebrow of interest when he got a clear look at his captors. They were fair skinned and covered by a thick coat of very fair hair which became heavier around their faces, giving the appearance of a full beard. They were wearing animal skins, draped in primitive fashion over one shoulder and over their hips. They were armed with clubs and spears.
"I see why the depilatory was necessary," Spock commented.
The aliens' leader cuffed Spock. "Quiet!" he barked, treating the Vulcan like an inferior form of life. Spock remained still:
no need to aggravate an already grave situation
.
The prisoners were lined up in single file and marched over the surrounding hills. As soon as they reached the top of a slope and began their descent, they were able to see what the hills had obscured: a large chemical fuel rocket on a launching pad, ready for lift-off. Spock's eyebrow raised again when he saw the primitive propulsion system.
Scott was tantalized by this apparition from the past. "Look at that!" he exclaimed. "A working sample of early spaceflight. Better than a museum exhibit!" He was quieted by the jab of a spear in his back.
They were led to an elevator which took them up the gantry and inside the ship, where they were put into a chamber in the lower section. The door was closed, and the prisoners found themselves in a dark, cylindrical, smooth-walled cell. They also discovered their hands were now free of the invisible restraints. In the dimness of the chamber, the Klingon contingentânow reduced to twoâsat in sullen silence. Spock entered into conversation with Commander Julina and her two officers, while Scott concentrated on the sounds of the ship, absorbed in the opportunity to study primitive propulsion methods firsthand.
The launch was bumpy but effective, and the flight seemed very smooth. The ship, once launched, seemed to function on different principles of physics: artificial gravity was established. The engineer was intrigued.
After a time each prisoner sank into his own thoughts. Their quarters were cold and uncomfortable. Spock's inner clock ticked away, giving him more of a sense of time elapsed than the others, but after a while even he lost track in the absence of instruments, due to the tight security of their prison. Food was supplied at regular intervals, always meat, which Spock refused. He was existing on water and air.
Scott grew increasingly concerned. He couldn't see Spock clearly in the gloom, but he knew his friend was suffering. Yet, typically, Spock denied any problem. "Vulcans can go on indefinitely without sustenance, if necessary," he claimed.
After what seemed an interminable journey, the ship plummeted out of space into the atmosphere of its home planet. It landed with a jolt, throwing the prisoners to the floor. When most had recovered their balance, Spock was still prone and Scott and Julina went to help him.
"I will be all right in a moment. Please, I need no assistance."
He forced himself to stand, straightening up very slowly, trying not to reveal his deteriorating condition. The door to the cell was finally opened. The haggard prisoners gratefully left the confines of the chamber, and they were taken out of the ship.
They found themselves on a bleak and desolate world, whose red sun
Learning to Kill: Stories