STAR TREK - TOS - Trek to Madworld

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/* /*]] */ Trek to Madworld Scanned by Highroller.

Proofed more or less by Highroller.

Made prettier by MollyKate's/Cinnamon's style sheet.

Trek to Madworld by Stephen

Goldin

Chapter 1

Captain's Log, Stardate 6188.4

We are preparing to leave orbit around Babel as soon as we pick op a pair of passengers Kostas

Spyroukis, the renowned planetary explorer who is personally responsible for locating more than thirty

colonizable worlds; and his daughter Metika. The Enterprise has been assigned to transport them both

back to then- home on the colony planet Epsilon Delta 4 after their stay here and their unsuccessful

attempt to have their world's status changed from colony to full member of the Federation. This is one

assignment I am eagerly awaiting. Ever since I was a boy I enjoyed reading about Spyroukis's daring

exploitsand the chance to finally meet him has made me feel like a cadet again.

Captain James Kirk made certain that he was in the Transporter Room along with First Officer Spock

and Dr. McCoy when Captain Spyroukis materialized. This was the man who'd had so many stories and

legends told about himand Kirk had read them all, many times, as a boy. The tales of Spyroukis's

exploits had been one factor in his decision to seek a career in the space services. Even now, when

Kirk's own adventures had more than surpassed those of his idol, he could not help but feel slightly

nervous as he prepared to meet his boyhood hero.

But the occasion proved to be a great disappointment. The man who materialized was not a demigod,

but a human being like himself. Kostas Spyroukis was a short, wiry man with dark hair and a deeply

tanned skin. His face was lined from years of survival under the harshest of conditions; though he was not

an old man by contemporary standards, the leathery look of his skin made him seem older than he was.

Moving slowly, Captain Spyroukis stepped down from the transporter platform and glanced around the

room. "You must be Captain Kirk," he said as he spotted the ship's commander. "I've heard a great deal

about you. I'm honored."

Kirk blushed. He had not expected such praise from the man whom he himself worshiped. "The honor is

mine, sir." Then, noticing that Spyroukis was the only person who had appeared, he added, " I thought

your daughter was supposed to be coming along, too."

"She is." There was a weariness in Spyroukis's voice that seemed oddly out of place. "She just had to

stop to have one last argument Even though we lost the Council debate, she's a very headstrong girl."

As Spyroukis moved forward, Kirk could see that something was indeed wrong. The older man was

moving with a slowness that bespoke some great infirmity. On Kirk's left, Dr. McCoy noticed it, too, and

took a step forward to help Spyroukis.

"Is there something wrong, Captain?" McCoy asked. "I'm Lieutenant Commander McCoy, ship's

surgeon. If you're not feeling well, we could have a run down to Sick Bay and I'll check you out It'll only

take a few minutes."

McCoy's concern, though, only served to irritate Spyroukis. I'm perfectly all right," the explorer snapped.

"Just a little tired, is all. I fought very hard to convince the Council I was right, and it didn't work. Maybe

I got a touch of indigestion along with it, I don't know. Just let me go to my cabin and lie down. I'll be

fine."

"Are you sure?" Kirk asked.

Spyroukis fixed him with a pointed stare. "Captain, I was commanding spaceships while you were still in

diapers. I haven't gone senile yet. I'm perfectly capable of taking care of my own body."

Feeling properly chastised, Kirk mumbled an apology and assigned Mr. Spock the task of showing

Captain Spyroukis to the visitor's cabin. After the two had gone, McCoy turned to the captain. Tin

worried, Jim. Despite what he said, he did not look well."

Kirk nodded. "I know, but he seems set against a checkup in any way, shape or form. If he were a new

crewman we could order him to go anywaybut medical exams are only offered to visitors by courtesy, so

I can't insist he go to your office."

"Well, I can," McCoy growled. "If anything threatens the health of the crew, I've got extraordinary

powers to deal with itand for all I know, Spyroukis may have some rare and highly contagious disease.

HI look in on him again in a little while, after he's had the chance to get settled; if things are still that bad

then, hero or not, I'll have his tail down in Sick Bay on the double."

"Sir." The engineer who was manning the transporter controls interrupted the conversation. "I just

received word that Miss Spyroukis is ready to beam up now."

"Fine. Beam her aboard, Lieutenant." As he spoke, Kirk moved across the room to the intercom on the

wall. Pressing the speaker button, he said, "Kirk to Bridge. Prepare to leave orbit, Mr. Sulu, as soon as

our second guest has been beamed up. Make course for colony Epsilon Delta 4, Warp Factor 3."

Within a few seconds there was another shimmering image on the transporter platform. As it coalesced

into the form of the explorer's daughter, Kirk felt his disappointment at the unrewarding meeting with

Spyroukis waning.

There may have been more beautiful women than Metika Spyroukis aboard the Enterprise in the past,

but certainly none more original. She was shorter than average, only 160 centimeters, and slender in a

way that was usually described as "willowy." Her complexion was clear and her face, if examined very

closely, seemed slightly out of proportion her mouth was a bit too small and her button nose made little

impression on the mind, while her blue eyes seemed enormous and alert to everything around them. From

reading her dossier earlier, Kirk knew that she was only twenty standard years old; her auburn hair,

styled in a top-knot, accentuated her youth.

She was wearing a dress that could only be a designer original. It was a slinky fabric that clung to the

contours of her body. The bottom was dark blue, rippling into lighter and lighter shades of blue as the

eyes scanned higher up the dress. Around the hem, blending into the dark blue, was a pattern of purple in

a design of seaweed; the neckline was trimmed in a material that looked like white foam. The total effect

was one of the wearer rising out of a wave of blue sea-waterand Metika Spyroukis was attractive

enough to carry off the effect perfectly.

It was not for her beauty, though, that Captain Spyroukis had brought her along on this trip to Babel nor

was it merely the fact that she was his daughter. Kirk knew from her dossier that Metika Spyroukis

though young and perhaps inexperiencedhad a brilliant mind and had already proved herself one of the

ablest debaters and administrators on the colony of Epsilon Delta 4. The colonists had sent her and her

father to plead their cause to the Council because those two individuals were the best the colony had to

offer.

Stepping forward, the captain said, "Welcome aboard the Enterprise , Miss Spyroukis. I'm James Kirk,

and I'd like to personally assure you of a pleasant journey home. If there's anything I can do to make the

trip easier, don't hesitate to let me know."

Thank you very much, Captain," Metika Spyroukis smiled.

At Kirk's side, McCoy cleared his throat noisily. The captain belatedly added, This is our ship's surgeon,

Dr. McCoy."

"Always a pleasure to make the acquaintance of so beautiful a lady," the doctor said.

Metika smiled a thank you at him, and McCoy beamed.

"Bones, weren't you just telling me there was something you wanted to check up on?"

"Well, Jim, there's no"

"I wouldn't dream of taking you away from your duty. I'll help Miss Spyroukis get squared away in her

cabin, and then I'll give her a tour of the Enterprise." And maybe , he added to himself, I'll be able to find

out from her a little more about what's wrong with her father .

When James Kirk made it his business to escort a beautiful and otherwise unattached lady about his ship,

the tour became a production of epic proportions. Depending upon the intelligence and interests of the

woman involved, the excursion could feature detailed explanations of the Enterprise's technical

systemsengine, power plants, air recycling stations and so forthor it could merely be a stroll through some

of the more pleasant recreational areas the ship's planners had designed to keep the crew from boredom

on long trips,

Metika Spyroukis was a special case. She was quite familiar with standard starship operations because

of her father's background; but her father had commanded only small exploratory ships during most of his

career, and a heavy cruiser of the Constellation class was a different vessel entirely. Kirk decided to

modify his technical tour, and began with a swing through the automated food processing units. These

machines," he explained, "can rearrange the basic protein, fat and carbohydrate compounds in our stores

and turn them into any of the thousands of programed meals that are registered in our computer banks.

We can feed anyone from an Abalekite to a Zycothian with food he would swear came from home, all

automatically. Our ship's doctor can keep his patients to a precise diet if it's requiredand as far as

quantities go, the machines can feed a banquet of two hundred as easily as a single meal."

Metika was indeed impressed. "My father was always telling me that the worst part of his expeditions

was the food. The machines on scout ships have a very limited repertoire, and they're prone to break

down at the slightest opportunity. Daddy said that once he and his crew had to live on nothing but

bloodworm stew for over a month because the food processor refused to make anything else."

"Truly a fate worse than death," Kirk said, raising the back of his hand in front of his eyes in mock horror.

"It was the very best bloodworm stew," Metika smiled, "but even so"

"Yes, I can imagine. I promise you that if our food machines break downwhich they have never done

yetI'll have our engineers fix it immediately or else we'll all dine on engineer stew. Being a captain does

have its privileges."

Kirk next led his visitor through the door from the food processing area into the ship's gymnasium. This

was a large open room twenty meters by ten in which, at present, more than a score of crewmembers

were spending their off-duty time. Two were working on the parallel bars, three others were lifting

weights, and a handful were conducting a class in group calisthenics; the remainder were engaged in a

friendly free-form wrestling match. No one bothered to salute the captain as he and his guest traversed

the length of the room to the door on the other side; Captain Kirk had long ago issued a standing order

that, under normal conditions, rank was of no consequence on Deck Eight, where the entertainment and

recreational facilities were concentrated. This was the primary portion of the Enterprise where the crew

could relax; Kirk thought it would be counterproductive to remind them of duties and responsibilities in

their leisure moments.

Kirk and Metika Spyroukis went up the short gangway at the far end and went into the hallway that led

them to the recreation lounge next door. This room was slightly larger than the gym, although the tables

and chairs set around the perimeter made it feel more closed in. There were more people here, some

eating at tables with their friends, others involved in card games, but most were grouped around the

holographic display area where individual crew-members were surrounded by three-dimensional

projected situations that allowed them to test their reflexes against computer-simulated events. Those

were the most popular games on the ship, the modem successor to the ancient game of pinball.

"Of course," Kirk explained as he led his guest through the lounge, pausing briefly to watch the games,

Like all our facilities, these are duplicated down in the secondary hull. They have a gym and a lounge, and

even a swimming pool and sundeck. The upper-deck facilities are used more often, though, because

they're easier for most of the crew to reach. You can always expect to find someone in here at any hour

of the day."

"Daddy tells me that all he and his crews ever got to do was read or play cards. Fortunately, he enjoys

bothbut there are times, I think, when he would have killed for a setup like this."

"When you've got a crew of 430 people on a mission of extended duration like ours, you have to provide

them with something to keep themselves entertained, or they'll be at one another's throat in under a

month. There's still not as much diversion as I'd like."

Metika's eyes widened. "What more could you possibly want?"

"A soccer field," Kirk sighed wistfully. "I think team sports help provide even more social cohesion but of

course there isn't room aboard even a ship this large for any decent-sized field. We have to settle for

low-gravity gymnastics and freefall polo. I do miss the soccer, though." He beamed at Metika. "Did you

know I was the varsity's leading scorer at the academy in my senior year?"

"Not only are you handsome, you're modest, too. I am impressed, sir. But I was under the impression

that your ship did have some areas made to simulate an outdoor environment"

"Exactly where we're going next." The captain took her arm and led her through the lounge into the area

which was the ship's "park." There a gravel pathway meandered through a blue-green carpet of

sponge-grass from the planet Delestra; the shoulder-high stalks of prism flowers swayed characteristically

back and forth as though in some nonexistent breeze, their shimmering petals diffracting light in rainbow

patterns all around; a patch of small yellow humbonnets droned their seductive call to any wandering

insects that might come by and fertilize them; and further off, a clump of red honorblossoms were lending

their distinctively sweet scent to the park's fresh aroma. There were even terrestrial trees and shrubs

scattered at intervals to create little pockets of privacy within this large open space.

Directly in front of the two humans was a fountain that sprayed water in ever-changing hues across a

central abstract sculpture that continually was changing shape, evolving from one intriguing form to the

next in slightly over a minute. Metika smiled like a small child and ran slightly ahead, eager to take in all

the beauty of this portion of the Enterprise . The corner's of Kirk's own mouth curled up into a smile as

he followed after her at a more dignified pace. He caught up with her just as she reached the point on the

pathway closest to the fountain.

She turned to face him. "I love it, all of it. Who would believe you could put something like this in-side a

spaceship? It seems to go on forever. Why couldn't you put a soccer field here if you wanted to?

"The size is a carefully designed optical illusion on the part of the planners. That's partly why the trees and

bushes are thereto prevent you from seeing all the way across. If you could take a straight-line view in

any one direction, you'd see that the park is no more than thirty-five meters long at its widest part It's also

curved around the central axis of the circular primary hull, which would make for a very strange soccer

field indeed."

He once again took her hand and escorted her down the gently winding pathway through the park. "The

path wanders around in here, too," he continued, "adding to the illusion that the park is bigger than it

really is. There are even the recorded sounds of insects, birds and other small animals to make us feel

more at ease."

"No illusion is too good for our Star Fleet personnel, is it?"

"They did go to quite a bit of trouble, didn't they? Still, no matter how beautiful it is, we always know it's

an illusion." He put an arm around her waist and pulled her slightly nearer. "An illusion can be a very

lonely thing unless you share it with someone."

It was the opening line to a courtship ploy, but Metika was not going to let the captain get by that easily.

Pretending she hadn't heard him she quickened her pace a bit, pulling slightly ahead of him. "Does it ever

cause problems?" she asked. "I mean, a place like this might make anyone homesick for his own world. I

know it makes me feel a little homesick right now."

"Is Epsilon Delta 4 like this?"

Her face reddened just a little. "Slip of the tongue. I was thinking of my old home on Parthenia, where we

used to live before we settled on Epsilon Delta 4 I've only lived at the colony about two years, and

sometimes I catch myself still thinking that Parthenia is home. I suppose it's a natural tendency, but I've

been trying to stop it. I'm dedicated to Epsilon Delta 4God, how I hate calling it that; that's one reason

why we applied for membership status, so we could have a real name instead of some catalog

designation. I'm dedicated to my new home, but there are times when it doesn't seem so homey."

"I've never been there. What's it like?"

"It's mostly very hot and very dry. Seventy-seven percent of the surface area is land, and most of that is

desertor, closer to the poles, tundra. There's only one city at the moment, Oreopolis, up on a

mountainside overlooking a large red desert."

"I agree, it doesn't sound very homey. Why put a colony there at all?"

"Minerals, for one thing. Our mountains are rich with napathic salts and corbadium depositsplus, Daddy

is very pleased with the soil. He says it's in prime virgin condition, and all it would take is an initial

investment in the right crops and the land could be supporting the people within half a decade. That's why

Daddy was so eager to have us declared a full member world."

"I was wondering about that," Kirk said. "Normally it takes ten to twenty years before the Council will

declare a planet a member rather than a colony. They like to make sure the world can stand on its own

without assistance before they grant it independence."

Metika seemed prepared to renew the argument she'd already lost in the Council's chambers. "But

sometimes, too, the Council can hold back the development of a world that should be brought along

much faster. A colony can't really decide its own fate; the Council allocates the money, tells it how much

help it will get, how many supplies it can buy, where to concentrate its efforts. The Council considers the

welfare of the Federation first; the welfare of the colony itself is of secondary importance at best."

Kirk wrinkled his brow. "Are you accusing the Council of trying to hold the colony back, keep it

subjugated instead of developing it properly?"

"No at least, they don't do it deliberately. But because they're more concerned with the Federation as a

whole, they tend to be too conservative. They'd rather play it safe and let the process take a few years

longer than try something innovative and possibly expensive to develop the world faster."

A cloud passed over Kirk's features for a moment as a very unpleasant memory crossed his mind. He

remembered a colony world on which he had once lived. Tarsus IV had seemed an ideal colony at one

time until its food supply was attacked and almost destroyed by a mutant fungus. Kodos, the governor of

the colony, had tried something "innovative" to save itthe slaughter of half the colony's population, so that

the remaining food would be sufficient to keep the other half alive.

I'm afraid I have to agree with the Council," he said aloud slowly. "There are so many things that can go

wrong with a colony world that it's best to take a bit of time to make sure things are done right The

trouble with innovative procedures is that, more often than not, they don't workwhereas patience is

usually rewarded. If the colony is going to succeed, then an extra few years of waiting won't make too

much difference in the long run; and if it isn't going to succeed, then there's no point of rushing in and

granting it independence when it'll just have to be abandoned soon anyway. There are too many legal

complications."

"I might have known you'd side with the Council," Metika said. "You're a Star Fleet Officer, you have to

take the part of the Establishment. But look, my father has discovered thirty worlds that have made

successful colonies. You have to trust judgment like that; he knows a good world when he sees it. This is

the place he chose to settle on when he retired; you don't really believe he would have picked one with

any risk, do you?

"My father picked Epsilon Delta 4 as his permanent home, the world he wants to devote the rest of his

life to. He has big plans for it. First, he wants to expand the mining operations so the world will get a

favorable export balance to pay for its future needs; there's more than enough mineral wealth on Epsilon

Delta 4 to accomplish that But the Council, in what passes for its wisdom, decided not to expand the

mining operations just yet; they said we don't have enough people to handle the facilities."

Metika gave a wry little laugh. "We don't have enough people because there isn't enough food for any

more. There isn't enough food because we don't have the capital to invest in an agricultural program that

would reclaim our fertile soil and start practical fanning. We don't have the capital because we can't mine

enough ore to buy it And we can't mine enough ore because we don't have enough people. It's a vicious

circle, Captain, and they've locked us into it"

Kirk tried to be conciliatory. "Maybe under those circumstances you should wait until the Council can

pump enough funds or material into the system to break the cycle."

"But that's just our point. We could do it on our own if they'd only let us. The Council wouldn't have to

spend another credit of the Federation's money. My father's reputation is impeccable; there are private

parties who'd lend us billions on just my father's word to help us get started. I even showed the Council

the promissory letters. But legally they can't lend money to a colony; the Federation Council is totally in

charge of a colony's affairs. If we were independent, we could get the money ourselves. Everyone on

Epsilon Delta 4 is proud, both of themselves and of their world. They'd like to do this on their own, not

take charity from the Federation."

Captain Kirk had led Metika on the long, roundabout path through the park, but now they came to an

end, facing the door that led out to the hall and the turbolift The ship's commander resolved to end this

bickering now. The Council had turned down the colony's request for independence, and the issue was

dead as far as he was concerned.

"You win," he said, throwing up his hands. " I agree that Epsilon Delta 4 should be granted its

independence immediately and be made a full member of the Federation. Now all we have to do is get

me a seat on the Council and find a majority of other members who agree with us."

Metika looked startled for a moment, then smiled and shook her head. "I'm sorry, Captain. I didn't mean

to go on so long or rehash old battles. That fight is lost for now, and taking my frustrations out on you

won't do any good. Will you accept my apology?"

"When you smile and look up so sorrowfully like that, what man could resist you?" Taking her arm, he

escorted her out into the hall in front of the elevator, "Just to show you there are no hard feelings, I'm

going to take you to my favorite spot in the entire ship." As they stepped into the turbolift, Kirk switched

on the car's computer and said, "Deck Twelve, dorsal."

The elevator car whizzed silently off along its way, taking its two occupants first horizontally along the

inner corridor of Deck Eight and then dropping diagonally down the dorsal section of the ship connecting

the upper primary hull to the lower secondary hull. Even as it was doing so, the elevator car that had

been stationed at the destination was automatically routed along another path so that it would end up

back on Deck Eight, in the spot vacated by the captain's car.

The ride came to an abrupt end and the doors whooshed open in front of them. Kirk led his guest out

behind the tube down which the elevator traveled and into a small, elliptical lounge. Two rows of chairs

ran back to back down the center, facing the outer walls. "Just sit down here," Kirk said, leading Metika

to one chair, "and wait and watch."

As she sat, slightly puzzled, the captain walked over to the wall and adjusted a couple of controls.

Slowly the lights in the room dimmed to a point where they were barely noticeableand then the show

began. The outer walls suddenly seemed transparent, and there before them lay the Universe in all its

mystery. To talk about the blackness of space was to talk in clichesbut "blackness" was indeed a pale

term to describe the depths of the darkness that lay beyond the ship's hull. Within that background of

nothingness were set the stars, uncounted billions of them, each glistening like an individual gem on a

velvet background. The Enterprise was currently cruising at Warp Factor 3, a respectable yet dignified

speed; the effect was to make the stars seem to crawl slowly past toward the rear of the shipthe nearer

ones moving fastest and the farther ones not at all.

"It's beautiful," Metika said. I've seen it before in pictures and from the front screens of a ship, but never

where it took up almost an entire room around me before."

Kirk moved over toward the center of the room and sat down in the chair beside her. "Anyone who

could see the stars like this and not be affected must have a hole in the bottom of his skull where his soul

leaked out. This is what life, nature, the universe are all about. Is it any wonder that almost every race has

an age-old dream to travel out here among the stars and be a part of heaven?"

"My father told me there used to be a term used by divers who explored under the oceans'rapture of the

deep.' It's the same thing here, only the deep goes on forever."

The two sat quietly side by side for several minutes, admiring the beauty of interstellar space. Finally Kirk

broke the long silence. "I would be honored, Metika, if you would join me in my cabin for supper

tonight."

"That sounds like the opportunity of a lifetime; what woman could resist? You'll have to promise me,

thoughno bloodworm stew."

The captain smiled. "Now I'll have to rearrange the entire menu I'd planned. What would you say to hors

d'oeuvres of Fimaldian mushrooms stuffed with bleu cheese, a sea-dollop salad coated with a thick

dressing of my own creation (and heavily laced with Saurian brandy vinegar), sauteed breast of eldarine

with baby peas and liyaka au gratinand for dessert, a whipped strawberry mousse? I admit it lacks the

fascination of bloodworm stew"

"Captain, you top wonder upon wonder. To find that a man with the reputation as being the finest

commander in the fleet should also be an epicure of such taste"

She was interrupted by the whistling of the intercom demanding the captain's attention. Annoyed, Kirk

stood up and went back to the wall control unit. Without bothering to turn off the starfield, he activated

the speaker. "Kirk here."

"Sorry to disturb you, Captain," came the voice of Lieutenant Uhura, lie ship's communications officer,

"but Dr. McCoy seems to think it's urgent. He requests that you join him in Sick Bay immediately."

"What's the problem, Lieutenant?"

"It's Captain Spyroukis. His illness took a turn for the worse, and Dr. McCoy thinks he may be dying."

Even across the room, Kirk could sense Metika's body tensing at the news. 'Tell Dr. McCoy well be

there immediately," the captain said. "Kirk out"

Chapter 2

As Kirk and Metika rode their turbolift car in silence to Deck Seven, the captain reflected that he had

spent entirely too much time in Sick Bay since his assignment to the Enterprise both as a concerned

observer and, sometimes, as a patient. Whenever anything disastrous is about to happen , he thought, it

usually begins with a call from McCoy asking me to come to the Sick Bay. Maybe if I just shut that

section down completely, nothing bad would ever happen again .

As the turbolift doors swished open, Kirk took long, quick strides toward the entrance of the main ward

where McCoy would most likely be tending his patient Behind him, Metika almost had to run to match

his pace. There was a desperate quality to her mannerisms; Kirk could tell that she loved her father very

much.

The ward looked deserted at first glance, but before the captain had more than amp; second to wonder

where his chief medical officer was, Head Nurse Christine Chapel entered and told him that she and

McCoy had taken Spyroukis to the Intensive Care Unit Impatiently, Kirk and Metika rushed through the

immaculate corridors, fearing the worst.

Even as they approached the ward, they could see Spyroukis through the opened door. The famed

explorer was lying on an examining table clad only in a thin white sheet, surrounded by a force shield, a

stasis generator and all the other miraculous devices of the modern medical profession. None of them

seemed to be helping much; Kirk was experienced enough at reading the life function monitors above the

bed to know that the man he so admired was in critical condition. There was a low throbbing noise

coming from the instrument board, but it was far too irregular and far too low-pitched to indicate anything

good.

Dr. McCoy stood beside the bed. There seemed to be, if that were possible, a few new wrinkles in his

already craggy facewrinkles of worry and perplexity. Kirk knew that McCoy tended to worry about

even the most trivial of problems, but there was a depth to this particular expression that boded no good.

"How is he, Bones?" the captain asked as he walked through the door. "What's the matter with him?"

McCoy could only spread his hands in a gesture of defeat. "I wish I knew, Jim. I hadn't had the chance

to pay him a follow-up visit I was just finishing my daily report and, next thing I know, they're calling me

down to Emergency to look at him. Whatever this is apparently hit him while he was lying on his bed; he

tried to get up, knocked a few items off his nightstand, and crawled to the intercom to call for help. From

the way he looks, I'd say it was a miracle he accomplished even that muchbut then, from all I've heard,

Captain Spyroukis was no ordinary man."

Metika was in the room too, right on Kirk's heels. She wanted to race to her father's side, but knew that

the force shield and the stasis generator would make that impossible. Feeling impotent and helpless, she

whirled on the doctor to vent her frustration. "Is, Doctor. Is no ordinary man. You're talking about him as

though he were already dead."

McCoy's face softened and he modulated his voice into more soothing tones. "I'm sorry, Miss Spyroukis,

I didn't mean to sound premature. Your father is definitely alive at this momentbut as for how long we can

keep him that way" His simple shrug spoke volumes.

Metika's gaze went from the doctor to the monitor and back to the motionless figure of her father.

Without saying another word she moved over to stand beside the examining table as close as the

equipment would allow her.

Kirk, however, was not about to let his doctor off the hook with such a simplistic diagnosis. "Don't you at

least know what the matter is?" he asked "Can't you make some kind of guess?"

"I could make guesses till the cows come home, and it still wouldn't do Spyroukis any good." The

weariness in McCoy's tone indicated that he'd already been doing some serious theorizing, and had been

unable to reach any solid conclusions. "The closest I can come is that it looks like some form of radiation

poisoningbut it's a type I've never seen, and our computers are unable to identify it."

Kirk's first concern was the immediate hazard this might pose to his crew. "Is there any chance he was

exposed to something on board?"

"I don't think so. I can't be sure, of course, but this has all the earmarks of the cumulative effects of a

small dose over a long, constant interval. I was hoping Miss Spyroukis might be able to help me."

Metika looked up suddenly at the mention of her name, her reverie momentarily broken. "Me? What?

"First," the doctor said, "I need some information.

Has your father spent any extended periods of time in unusual environments?"

Metika gave a short, harsh laugh. "My father's the expert in unusual environments. He's probably visited

more than any other human being alive."

"I don't mean just for the month or two it takes to scout a new planet I'm talking about extended stays of

months or even years."

Metika shook her head. "Daddy's job never gave him a chance to settle in one place for very long. The

longest he's ever been anywhere that I can remember is just in the last two years since his retirement, on

Epsilon Delta 4."

McCoy frowned and tapped two fingers lightly on the surface of his desk. After a moment, he continued,

"One other thing, Miss Spyroukis. Would you let me take a few blood and tissue samples from you for

comparison purposes?"

Metika, still dazed by her father's sudden illness, nodded absently. McCoy was able to take his samples

painlessly, and the girl turned back to her father. The older man appeared to be resting comfortably, his

condition unchanged. Just to look at him, he seemed to be in a deep, relaxed sleep. Only the low,

irregular throbbing of the monitors broke that peaceful illusion.

McCoy called in one of his lab technicians, gave her the samples he'd taken from Metika and detailed the

tests he wanted run. As the woman nodded and left, McCoy looked at Kirk and gestured with his head

that he wanted to speak to the captain privately in another room. Kirk looked at Metika, who stood

motionless as a statue by her father's bedside, and then followed the doctor into the office next door.

Metika never noticed they had gone.

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking, Bones?" Kirk asked when the two were alone.

That there's something about Epsilon Delta 4 that caused the problem?" When Kirk nodded, McCoy

went on, "It seems the simplest conclusion. If Spyroukis picked up a prolonged exposure to anything, it

would have to be there. And if he did, there's a good chance that some of it might show up in his

daughter's body, too. If her tests show anything positive, we'll at least have some clue to what we're

looking for."

"But what could it be?" Kirk mused. "Spyroukis is the most experienced scout the Federation has. He's

located scores of planets and found thirty suitable for colonies; you'd think that he above all would know

if there was anything of long-term danger on Epsilon Delta 4. And he certainly wouldn't pick that as the

world where he and his daughter would settle permanently if anything was even slightly off."

"Perhaps it was something he discounted as negligible," McCoy suggested. "The history of medicine is full

of incidents where two or more separate factors, each totally harmless in itself, combined under the

proper circumstances to produce some pretty lethal results. I'd suggest you put Spock to work on that

particular problem; if anyone can sort through the millions of insignificant facts and come to the proper

conclusion, it'll be Spock and that computer brain of his."

Captain Kirk felt a light chill as the doctor spoke. For McCoy to recommend handing a problem to

Spock, the situation would have to go far beyond seriousit had to be cataclysmic!

Five hours later, Kirk convened the small meeting with his two closest friends in the Deck Six Briefing

Room. Seated across the large table was Dr. McCoy, looking more dour and glum than ever. To Kirk's

right sat Spock, rigid yet relaxed, as though military posture were the ultimate purpose of his body's

design. He had a sheaf of written notes on the table in front of him, but Kirk knew he would never look

at them. In all his long acquaintance with Mr. Spock, Kirk had yet to see his first officer unprepared for a

briefing; he suspected that Spock memorized all the data just before coming into the Briefing Room.

"First off," Kirk opened solemnly, "I need a status report How is Captain Spyroukis?"

"Deteriorating slowly," McCoy answered. "I don't think we can hold him more than another hour or two

at the rate he's slipping."

Kirk grimaced even though the news was not unexpected. "Any more luck on tracking down exactly

what it is we're dealing with?"

"I presume you mean the tests on Miss Spyroukis.

Yes, you could say there's been some luck. She's got it, too." As the captain reacted to this, McCoy held

up a hand to calm him. "Oh, not to any serious extent yet. We had to perform the tests three times just to

make sure of the conclusion. The indications were so faint that there was some chance it might be 'minute

flaws in our instruments. We've all but eliminated that possibility. Miss Spyroukis is perfectly healthy at

the present, but if she's exposed to the conditions her father experienced for any long periods of time, she

could develop the same symptoms."

"Any chance of treatment?"

McCoy shook his head sadly. "None that I know, of. I've tried all our standard antiradiation therapies,

and even a few nonstandard ones. The disease has been simmering below the surface so long, wrecking

the body internally before it became apparent, that there's nothing I can do to slow its progress. I suspect

Captain Spyroukis has been having symptoms for quite some time and merely shrugged them off as signs

of advancing old age. Mild dizzy spells, touches of indigestion, thinning of hair, things like that. Like

cancer, by the time the problem becomes really noticeable it's far too late to do anything."

The captain turned to the imperturbable Mr. Spock. "How have you done at your end? Is there anything

about Epsilon Delta 4 that could be the root of the trouble?"

"I'm afraid that I, too, am limited to guesswork and speculation. The potential exists, but in the absence of

extensive laboratory tests I cannot state for certain that my suppositions about the causative factors are

correct."

"I'll accept your qualification, Mr. Spock," Kirk said, mildly annoyed at the Vulcan's customary

circumlocution. "At the moment, though, any supposition is better than none at all, and yours have a high

record of proving out. Please continue."

Spock gave the captain an almost imperceptible nod of his head. "Very well. Since the problem seemed

to be a form of radiation poisoning, I looked first at the largest single source of radiation available to the

Epsilon Delta 4 colony its sun. Our ship's computer had in its information bank the original records

obtained by Captain Spyroukis on his initial investigation of the planet, in addition to periodic updates

made by scientists at the colony since its foundation. I performed a spectrographic analysis of that star's

radiation curve and compared it to analyses that had been made previously. The results concurred.

Epsilon Delta 4's sun is a strong emitter of zeton radiation."

"But zeton radiation's effects are well known," McCoy interrupted. "It doesn't cause illness like this."

If the interruption to his carefully prepared presentation in any way affected Spock, he did not show it.

His tone remained level as he continued, "Quite correct, Doctor. Experiments with zeton radiation have

been carried on for years, and have proven beyond any rational doubt that zeton radiation in any naturally

occurring quantities is totally harmless to Terran human beings, as well as most other races in the Galaxy.

It was not the zeton radiation per se that caused Captain Spyroukis's illness.

"My next thought was that there might be some other radiation to blame. Aside from the zeton radiation,

the local sun's output is not vastly different from that of Earth's sun, so nothing further was to be gained

there. I learned that Epsilon Delta 4 is rich in minerals and I thought that perhaps some radioactive

materials near the colony's main settlement, in combination with the zeton radiation, might have produced

this effect. But this supposition, too, proved wrong. There were no recorded deposits of radioactive

materials within hundreds of kilometers of the main settlement; the minerals the colony wants to mine are

all strictly conventional ones.

"Since radiation alone could not account for the phenomenon, I turned to the next most pervasive aspect

of the colony's environmentthe air. Epsilon Delta 4's atmosphere is almost identical to Earth's, but with

one major exception instead of comprising only one percent, as on Earth, the element argon comprises

slightly less than two percent of the atmosphere on Epsilon Delta 4."

"But argon's an inert gas," McCoy argued. "Even in this slightly higher concentration, its mere presence in

the lungs and bloodstream would scarcely matter."

"Again, Doctor," Spock said evenly, "your assumption is correct as far as it goes. I decided to take it a

step further, however. There have been a few laboratory experiments reported on the effect of strong

zeton radiation upon argon. It was found that argon atoms bombarded with continuous dosages of zeton

radiation tended to become unstable. In some cases they became ionized, while in others they tended to

lose their chemical property of inertness and could even recombine with other atoms lower on the

periodic chart"

"Like hydrogen, oxygen, carbon and nitrogen," McCoy muttered.

"Precisely." If ever a Vulcan could look pleased with himself, Spock did at that instant. "The effect of this

recombination in any short-term circumstance would of course be negligible, considering how small an

amount of argon was available to begin with and how small a percentage of argon actually becomes

unstable due to the zeton radiation. But living tissue is a very sensitive material, as you know, and the

cumulative effect of this unusual reaction could well lead to the symptoms you describe."

McCoy was silent for a moment, pondering what Spock had told him. "I would never even have thought

to look for something like thatbut now that you point it out, it does look like the logical answer."

"Of course, Doctor," Mr. Spock said flatly.

"But there's nothing we can do to change either the sun or the atmosphere of Epsilon Delta 4," McCoy

continued, half to himself. "Like Metika Spyroukis, all the other colonists on that world are being

exposed to this unknown menace day in and day out. The very air around them will kill them all unless

something is doneand quickly."

All three men around the table knew what that implied. Epsilon Delta 4, no matter how ideal a colony

world it seemed, would have to be abandoned as a human settlement. Its cities would be dismantled the

hopes of its settlers crushed. All the people who d been living there would have to be evacuated before

they too, were struck down by the mysterious illness that was killing Kostas Spyroukis.

And Metika Spyroukis, who had just traveled to Babel to argue the case for Epsilon Delta 4s

independence, was not likely to be pleased that her newly adopted homeland would soon be deserted

once more.

Chapter 3

Captain's Log. Stardate 6189.0

I have sent through a Priority-1 call to Star Fleet Command, outlining the situation on colony world

Epsilon Delta 4 as nearly as we can estimate it Star Fleet acknowledges receipt of our hypotheses, and

promises to get their best scientific teams to work on the problem at once. They will apprise me of the

situation the instant they have any results.

Meanwhile, the Enterprise continues on its original course to Epsilon Delta 4. I have taken the liberty of

increasing our speed to Warp Factor 4; in the event Star Fleet confirms our worst fears, we will want to

reach the colony in a hurry to begin the evacuation. My chief engineer is currently working on

contingency plans to house the evacuees aboard the ship if and when that becomes necessary.

Metika Spyroukis has not left her father's side since he was stricken. I believe you have the hardest task

of alltelling her that Epsilon Delta 4 may have to be abandoned.

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