THE MARK OF GIDEON
(George F. Slavin and Stanley Adams)
"It appears to be Paradise, Mr. Spock," said Kirk, handing back the folder of Federation reports and stepping onto the Transporter platform. "It's taken Gideon long enough to agree to negotiating membership in the Federation."
"I'll be interested in hearing your description, Captain," said Spock, taking his place at the console. "Since they have not permitted any surveillance, or any visitors, you appear to be uniquely privileged to visit Heaven early."
"You won't have long to wait," said Kirk. Uhura's voice replied at once to Spock's request for coordinates. Spock set the levers at 875; 020; 079.
"Let's go, Mr. Spock."
"Energizing, Captain." Spock did not, of course, smile at Kirk's eagerness to be off.
The Transporter Room shimmered, then steadied. Nothing seemed to have happened.
"Mr. Spock," said Kirk, stepping from the platform. "Mr. Spock?" There was no one in the Transporter Room but himself.
He clicked the intercom button. "Mr. Spock, I have not been transported down, and why have you left your post before confirming? Mr. Spock, answer me . . ."
This was not at all according to regulations. Annoyed, Kirk stamped out of the Transporter Room and headed purposefully toward the bridge. There was nobody there either.
He hit the intercom with increasing irritation. This is the Captain speaking. All bridge personnel report immediately." He folded his arms and waited; there had better be one hell of an explanation. Nothing happened. He switched on the intercom again, alternately calling Engineering, security, Dr. McCoy, and listening. There was only silence.
"Lieutenant Uhura, report to the bridge immediately."
The viewing screen showed only the planet Gideon exactly as he had just seen it before stepping onto the Transporter, a perfectly ordinary M-type planet peacefully poised in the screen. The readouts and lights on the bridge consoles continued to operate in their usual conformations.
"Captain Kirk." The smooth voice of Prime Minister Hodin emerged from the communication screen. "The Council is still awaiting your arrival."
A plump figure rose to its feet from among the Councillors of Gideon.
"This discourtesy is unforgivable!" he snapped. "Doesn't your Federation recognize that first impressions are most important?"
Spock blinked. "Captain Kirk was transported down minutes ago, sir."
"That's impossible."
"I transported him myself," said Spock firmly.
"He never arrived here," said Hodin, evenly. Spock stared at Scott, and turned back to the screen.
"He was beamed directly to your Council Chamber. Please check your coordinates, Prime Minister."
Hodin read out from a slip of paper, "875; 020; 079."
Scott nodded.
"Somethings' gone wrong with the Transporter," said Chekov. "Captain Kirk's lost somewhere between the Enterprise and Gideon." His voice rose; Speck's expression remained impassive. The planet hung in the viewscreen, enigmatic.
The Prime Minister was speaking insistently. "We provided you with the exact coordinates for this room, Mr. Spock. And that is all we were obligated to do. If he is not here it is your own responsibility and that of your staff."
"I do not deny that, Your Excellency. I was not attempting to blame your personnel."
"We are glad to hear that, sir." Hodin's voice sounded almost smug. "We are, in fact, inserting it into the records of this . . . most unfortunate event."
"Your Excellency, with intricate machinery so delicately balanced as ours, there is always a margin for error," Spock said sharply. "Captain Kirk may have materialized in some other part of Gideon."
Hodin said, "Let's hope it was dry land, Mr. Spock."
"Your Excellency, to cut directly to the point, I request permission to beam down and search for the Captain."
Hodin sat back, hands on the table before him. "Permission denied, Mr. Spock. Your Federation is well aware of our tradition of isolation from all contaminating contact with the violence of other planets . . ."
"Your Excellency, the wars between star systems no longer prevail in our galaxy. If you will grant permission . . ."
"We shall institute a search immediately. In the meantime I suggest you look to your machinery."
"We have already done so, sir," Spock's voice was now extremely controlled. "With regard to permission to land . . ."
But the Council Chamber had vanished from the screen.
"We must once and for all acknowledge that the purpose of diplomacy is to prolong a crisis," said Spock, deliberately closing the switch.
"What are we waiting for, Mr. Spock? We're not diplomats," McCoy flung himself on a chair.
"We are representatives of the Federation, Doctor."
"That doesn't mean we have to sit here like school-children and listen to a damfool lecture by some . . . dip-lo-mat."
"Unfortunately, diplomacy is the only channel open to us at the moment. This planet is shielded from our sensors; we cannot observe it. Therefore we are unable to select coordinates. They have to be given to us. We are bound by Federation's agreements with Gideon." Spock turned to Lt. Uhura. "Contact Starfleet immediately. Advise them of this problem and request permission to use every means at our disposal to locate the Captain."
"D'ye think he's there, Spock?" said Scott. "Or are there any other possibilities?"
"They are endless, Mr. Scott."
"Where do we start?" said McCoy helplessly.
Spock leaned over Sulu's console. "Institute three-hundred-and-sixty degree scan, Mr. Sulu—one degree at a time."
"You're going to scan space for him? But sir, that could take years!"
"Then the sooner you begin, Mr. Sulu, the better," said Spock grimly.
Sweating slightly, Kirk ran from the elevator and pressed a door; it did not budge. He tried to force it with no success. He tried the next door; it opened easily. Standing guardedly in the opening, he pushed it all the way open with his elbow, one hand on the butt of his phaser. It whished slightly in the silence. The tables in the lounge stood as though the crew had just been summoned; a half-finished chess game, a sandwich with a bite out of it, a book dropped carelessly on the floor. But the only sound was Kirk's own breathing. He went out into the corridor again, warily.
Two more doors, locked. The third, labeled "Captain's Quarters," opened to the lightest pressure. His familiar room suddenly seemed alien—no crackle from the intercom, the bunk neatly made up, his books orderly on their shelf; his lounging robe swung eerily in the slight breeze made by the opening door. Momentarily disoriented, he wondered for a wild moment whether he had strayed from his own body and was visiting the Enterprise long after he and his crew had perished from the universe.
Footsteps! Dancing footsteps, echoing in the corridor; he pivoted on his now very real heels and stared. At the end of the hall a graceful figure whirled and curtsied, feet pattering gaily on the utilitarian flooring.
She caught sight of Kirk in mid-pirouette, and stopped with a little cry. He reached, and caught her; the sight of a human form brought his sense of reality back with a bump.
"Who the . . . who are you?"
She frowned, her delicate forehead lovely even when wrinkling; suddenly she smiled.
"Odona . . . yes. My name is Odona. Why did you bring me here?" She indicated the ship's corridor with a wide gesture.
Kirk was startled. "What are you doing on my ship?"
"This entire ship is yours?"
"It's not my personal property. I'm the Captain."
"And you have all this to yourself?" Her voice was full of wonder.
"At the moment, we seem to have it all to ourselves," Kirk corrected.
Odona smiled, sapphire eyes looking up from under sable lashes. "So it seems. You're hurting me, Captain."
Kirk hastily released her.
"Captain James Kirk. And I did not bring you here, incidentally."
"If you didn't . . ."
"Exactly. Who did?"
She shrugged helplessly. The decorations bordering her brief tunic twinkled in the lights.
"What happened before you got here?" said Kirk. "Try to remember. It's important."
She puzzled over it for a moment. "I remember . . . it seems I was standing in a very large auditorium, crowded with people, thousands of people pressed against me so hard I could hardly breathe . . . I was fighting for breath, screaming to get out and they kept pushing and pushing . . ." She shuddered.
"Don't be afraid." Kirk placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.
"I'm not." She looked up at him. "But you are troubled?"
Kirk turned away. "I am the only one of my crew left on the Enterprise. Out of four hundred and thirty. I may be the only one left alive."
"I am sorry. If only I could help."
"You can," said Kirk earnestly. "Tell me the rest. You were fighting for breath, screaming to get out, and . . ."
"And suddenly I was here on this . . . your ship. And there is so much room, so much freedom. I just wanted to float." She smiled impishly. "And then, there you were."
"How long have you been on the Enterprise?" Kirk's questions were almost random; any clue, any train of suggestion, might lead him to a solution.
"I don't know. Not long. Does it matter?"
"It might. Come on." He started back toward the bridge.
Odona followed reluctantly.
"Do we have to leave this wonderful open place?"
Kirk glowered at the chronometer in the bridge, gripping Odona's hand. She tried to pull away from him; he held her firmly.
"Half an hour of my life is lost."
Odona stared at him.
"Between the time I tried to leave this ship for Gideon, and the time I found myself here alone, a full half hour disappeared—poof! What happened during that half hour?"
"What is Gideon?"
"Your home, the planet you came from . . . don't you remember?"
"I don't know any Gideon." She looked at him, apparently utterly lost.
"That's impossible. We were in synchronous orbit over the capital city. I was supposed to beam down. Something went wrong. You must have been sent aboard from Gideon."
She shook her head, trying to remember.
"I do not think so."
Kirk flipped on the viewing screen. Gideon had vanished. The changing patterns of the stars indicated the forward motion of the ship. Odona moved closer, and put her hand in his.
"We are no longer over Gideon," said Kirk in a flat voice.
"Where are we?"
"I don't know. I don't recognize that quadrant," said Kirk dully.
Odona bit her lip. Thinking aloud, Kirk said, "Odona, you must realize that we are not here together by accident. Someone must have arranged it, for a purpose, an unknown purpose."
A small voice replied, "Captain Kirk, before I said I wasn't afraid. Now, I think I am."
He looked at her with compassion, and they turned back to the incomprehensible pattern of stars.
"Go back two degrees, there was a pulse variation," said Spock. Sulu maneuvered the sensor screen.
"There," said Spock. "There is something. Give me a reading."
Sulu flicked switches. "I can't make it out, sir."
"Get chemical analysis and molecular structure."
Sulu pointed silently at the indicators. Scott, McCoy and Chekov watched anxiously. Spock shook his head.
"Space debris."
Sulu sighed, and resumed tracking.
"Lieutenant Uhura, has Starfleet honored our request with an answer?"
"Not yet, sir."
"Did you impress upon them that the Captain's life is at stake?"
"Of course, Mr. Spock," she said indignantly. "But they insisted that the matter had to be referred to the Federation."
"What department?"
"Bureau of Planetary Treaties, sir."
"Contact them directly."
"I already have, Mr. Spock. They insist we go though Starfleet channels."
Sulu exploded, spinning in his chair. "With the Captain missing that's the best they could come up with?"
"A bureaucrat," said Spock bitterly, "is the opposite of a diplomat. But they manage to achieve the same results."
He stared at the chronometer. The second indicator . clicked on. The captain was waiting . . . somewhere. And time was passing inalterably.
Suddenly Uhura's voice broke the tense silence.
"Mr. Spock, Gideon is making contact."
McCoy said sourly, "Now we're in for another dose of doubletalk."
"Since we must learn the language of diplomacy in order to deal with our present problem, shall we just listen to what they have to tell us?" said Spock. "Then, Doctor, we can decide on the relative merits of their statements."
Four poker-faced ministers flanked the Prime Minister as he appeared on the viewer. Courteously, Spock began, "Your Excellency, we are pleased to hear that you have news of the Captain."
"Good news!" said the smiling image. "Very good news indeed, Mr. Spock. Your Captain is definitely not on Gideon. We have made a thorough search, just as you requested. I am sure you will be relieved to know you may now proceed to investigate all the other possibilities, and forget about Gideon."
"But that is not what we requested!"
"It is in the records, Mr. Spock," broke in the voice of the Prime Minister. "You asked for a thorough search of Gideon. We have used every means at our disposal to accommodate you, Mr. Spock." Outraged astonishment overlaid the diplomat's usual smile.
"Your record on this subject cannot be precise, Excellency."
Hodin waved to an assistant, and took from him a thick book. With ambitious eagerness the assistant had already opened it to a specific passage.
"You do not intend, I hope, that a conference be made the subject of a dispute between Gideon and the Federation, Mr. Spock."
"Your Excellency, a dispute is farthest from our minds. It's quite unnecessary to check your documents. I am merely suggesting to you that the language of our request may not have been understood exactly as intended."
Hodin stood up, huffily indignant. He waved his puffy hand.
"Mr. Spock, you are an officer of a spaceship. In your profession you make use of many instruments, tools, and . . . weapons . . . to achieve your objectives, do you not?"
"Yes, sir."
Hodin's eyes were squinting with an apparent effort to remain diplomatically cool. His posture betrayed him.
"However," he continued, "the only tool diplomacy has is language. It is of the utmost importance that the meaning be crystal clear."
Spock's own posture was of stiff attention.
"I am basically a scientist, Excellency. Clarity of formulation is essential in my profession also."
"I am glad to hear that. Perhaps then you will make a greater effort to choose your words precisely."
The word "precisely" vibrated through the bridge like a red petticoat in a bullring. The crew was coming to a full boil; all hands were fists by now.
McCoy muttered, "Are you going to let him get away with that, Spock?"
"No matter what you say, he'll find a way to twist the meaning," said Scott.
Uhura growled, "How can you stand this, Mr. Spock?"
McCoy leaned past Spock to the viewer and spoke directly to Hodin. "Our Captain is lost out there somewhere. We don't care how much you have searched, we are going over every inch of space ourselves. He's got to be down there somewhere. We're going after him!"
Too loudly, Chekov said, "This is no time to stick to rules and regulations, this is an emergency!" McCoy gently pulled him back, and leaned toward the screen again.
"We can't leave without being absolutely positive ourselves that everything has been done," he said. "Surely you can understand our feelings."
Hodin turned back to the screen, smiling.
"Mr. Spock. Mr. Spock."
"Yes, Your Excellency?"
"Are you still there?" That smile was imperturbable. "There was considerable interference with your transmission. A great deal of noise drowned out your transmission; could you please repeat more clearly?"
McCoy retreated, baffled. "Let me apologize for the noise, Your Excellency," said Spock. "To summarize, I request permission to transport down to Gideon."
The Prime Minister looked at his deputies and back at Spock. They all burst out in offensive laughter.
"Forgive me, Mr. Spock," Hodin's oily voice resumed. "No criticism of your equipment is intended. But evidently it has sent your Captain on some strange journey—we all still hope a safe one, of course." He bowed formally. "But it could create for us a grave incident with your Federation. And now you propose to repeat the disaster with yet another officer? Are you mad?"
Scott shouted, "I'll not take that, Mr. Spock. The Transporter was in perfect condition . . . I pairsonally guarantee that mysel'. Transport me down there this minute and I'll be proving it to those . . . those . . . gentlemen!"
The chill in Spock's quick glance froze Scott in his tracks.
"I could not quite make that out, Mr. Spock. Would you be so good as to repeat what you said?" Hodin gave every appearance of amusement at the antics of the crew.
"The ship's engineer was saying that the malfunction that existed has now been repaired," said Spock, a quelling eye on Scott. "We would like to test it immediately. I would like to transport down to your Council Chamber."
"But, Mr. Spock, you . . ."
Spock interrupted Hodin. "Your Excellency, grant this one request."
"You are a very persistent fellow, Mr. Spock."
A moment of tension passed while Hodin again consulted with his staff.
"All right, Mr. Spock." A whistling sound passed through the bridge as the entire crew released held breath. "You shall test the skill of your . . . er . . . very excitable repairman."
Scott's teeth ground in Chekov's ear. "He doesna ken what excitable is . . ." Chekov grinned at him, and whispered, "But he's letting him go . . . Wait."
"There is one further proviso. We cannot risk additional incident. You will therefore transport a member of my staff to your ship. Let us first see if that works."
"Thank you, Your Excellency. Your proposal is accepted." Spock turned to Scott. "Transporter Room, Mr. Scott, on the double."
"At once, Mr. Spock," said Scott, rather stiffly. He stalked to the elevator and punched the door.
On the screen, yet another assistant with a large book was talking to Hodin, who looked up.
"My assistant will provide you with the proper, what is the word?"
"Co-or-di-nates," said Spock, very clearly.
"Thank you. You may proceed."
The Gideonite assistant placed himself at a corner of the Council Chamber.
"875," he said.
"875, Mr. Scott," said Spock.
"875, aye."
"020."
"020."
"709."
"709?" The last number was repeated. Spock hesitated for a moment.
'709, Mr. Scott. Energize."
"Mr. Spock, the young gentleman from Gideon is here," Scott reported triumphantly.
"Very good, Mr. Scott." Spock turned to the screen. "Your assistant is safely arrived, Your Excellency. And now we would like to send down myself and if possible, a few technicians to follow through on . . ."
"Now, now, now, Mr. Spock. Not so fast. That is quite a different matter. We agreed to allow one representative on our soil, your Captain alone. Now you suggest a 'few technicians.' And will the Federation then demand an army of 'technicians' to hunt for these?"
Patiently, Spock said, "I will demand only one thing, Prime Minister; that I be permitted to beam down to your planet to search for the Captain."
"Your request," said Hodin, smoothly triumphant, "will be brought to the floor at the next session of Gideon's Council. Er . . . do not look forward to a favorable reply."
"Your Excellency!" Spock pressed the switch several times rapidly; the screen remained blank. He hit, the intercom.
"Mr, Scott. Send the gentleman from Gideon home."
"I was just beginning to think you might find a new career as a diplomat, Spock," said McCoy.
"Do not lose hope, Doctor. Lt. Uhura, contact Starfleet Command. Demand an instant reply to our request for permission to land on Gideon."
The room was tense as Uhura operated her console.
"Enterprise to Starfleet Command."
"Enterprise to Starfleet Command."
"Enterprise to Starfleet Command." Kirk and Odona bent over the console, Kirk's fingers expertly flicking the controls.
"Captain Kirk here. Red Priority Alert. Do you read me? Red Priority Alert." The console impassively continued its normal light patterns.
"Isn't it working?" said Odona.
"It seems to be all right." Kirk flipped the manual control and held it open.
"Kirk here. Answer please. Red Priority Alert."
"If it is working someone must hear you," Odona said hopefully.
"There's nothing. If they do hear they aren't replying."
"Why would they do that?"
"They wouldn't." Kirk glanced quizzically at her, then crossed the bridge to Sulu's board. With a few swift motions he altered the setting so that the lights showed a different pattern.
"I'm taking the ship out of warp speed."
"Out of what?" Odona looked utterly baffled.
Kirk laughed. "Space terminology. We're no longer moving faster than light. I trimmed her down to sublight speed till we can find out where we are."
"It doesn't feel any different."
"Well, no." Kirk was amused. Abruptly, his smile faded. "Maybe it isn't." He stared at the other consoles, one by one. No change was apparent. He turned on the forward viewing screen. No motion was visible in the star-filled sky, still and remote.
"Has the ship slowed down?"
"If we can believe the screen, it has."
"Oh, don't tell me the sky is out of order now!"
They stood side by side watching the glittering heavens; behind them the console lights moved in rhythmic silence. Odona said softly, "It's so quiet, and peaceful."
"It isn't really, you know. Out there, it's . . ." As he turned his head to look at her he felt fingers against his lips.
"And it's beautiful," she said.
Kirk looked back at the panoply on the screen, and at the delicate oval face in its black wings of hair.
"And it's beautiful. Very beautiful."
"We're all alone here. Can it last a long, long time?" Her eyes were raised to his, sparkling. His arm slipped around her.
"How long would you like it to last?"
"Forever." Odona's voice was barely audible.
"Let's see now. Power; that's no problem, it regenerates. Food; we had a five years' supply for four hundred and thirty. For two of us that should last . . ."
"Forever?"
Their eyes met, and her hands touched his shoulders. He pulled her closer. She said in a trembling voice, "All my life I've dreamed of being alone . . ."
The startling intensity of her "alone" woke Kirk; the moment was broken. Gently he released her. She stood, her arms still raised, eyelids lowered, her expression rapt.
"Most people are afraid of being alone," Kirk said.
She opened her eyes and looked him in the face.
"Where I live people dream of it."
"But why? What makes the people of Gideon dream of being alone?" His voice had recovered its tone of impersonal interest.
"I . . ." she caught herself. Her expression of puzzlement returned. "Gideon? I told you I don't know where my home is." She shook her head.
"It might well be Gideon." Kirk appraised her coolly.
"Does it matter so much?" She started toward him, her hands out.
"It might help me locate our position." She stopped. Her hands dropped to her sides. She shrugged, almost imperceptibly.
"And then you might find your crew. Being here with you, I forgot there were others. I envy your sense of loyalty." She drew close to him. "I wish I could ease your fear for your friends."
Kirk shook his head. "I must make contact with whoever is manipulating us. I've got to find a way . . ." He paced the room, stopping in front of each of the consoles, willing them to reveal something, the smallest clue. Suddenly he whirled and faced the girl.
"Odona, can't you remember why your people want so much to be alone?"
A wave of utter panic swept over her face. She shivered, although there was no change in the temperature.
"Because they cannot ever be."
"Why not?"
"There are so many." He could hardly hear her reply. She lifted her head. A shuddering force seemed to rise from her slender body.
"So many . . . so many. There is no place, no street, no house, no garden, no beach, no mountain that is not filled with people. If he could, each one would kill to find a place to be alone. If he could, he would die for it."
She stared at him, tears creeping down her cheeks, supporting herself on Uhura's chair. She looked exhausted.
"Why were you sent here, Odona?" Kirk put the question compassionately.
Her head lifted proudly. "No one commands Odona. I was not sent here."
Kirk strode to her side, and took her face in his hands.
"Have you come here to kill?"
Her tearstained face was shocked; unable to answer, her lips formed a soundless "no."
"Have you come here to die?"
"I don't know. I don't care . . . I only know I am here. I only know I am happy here." She threw her arms around his neck and clung to him, desperately. The trouble in her eyes moved Kirk as her coquetry had failed to do. He kissed her, gently, then more urgently. Yet in the back of his mind the images evoked by her tormented outcry haunted him; faces of people yearning for solitude, young, old, men, women and children unable to draw a breath that was not their neighbor's.
The stars on the viewscreen ignored them.
Suddenly Kirk drew back his arm with an exclamation. She flinched.
"I have done something wrong?"
"No." Kirk smiled ruefully. But he let her go, and pulled up his sleeve. There was a bruise on his forearm. Blood made a tiny dome in its center.
"Why does it take so long?" Odona asked, peering at it.
"Long? What?"
"The bruise. It stays the same."
"And the irritation gets worse. If Dr. McCoy were here he'd take care of it with a simple wave of his medical tricorder."
It was obviously the same as if he had said "his wand" to Odona, but she said, "I would willingly give up some of this glorious space to Dr. McCoy, if he could take away your . . . irritation."
"They took Dr. McCoy, but they had to leave Sickbay," said Kirk. He took her arm and steered her to the elevator.
On the bridge of the other Enterprise, Uhura, Chekov, Scott and McCoy were intently scanning the viewscreen. Spock stood at attention in the Captain's position. Over the air the voice of the Starfleet Admiral, slightly distorted by its long journey, sounded extremely stern.
"I sympathize deeply, but Starfleet cannot override Federation directives in this matter."
"The crew will not understand it, Admiral."
"Damn straight," muttered McCoy.
"Has your crew suddenly become interested in provoking a war, Mr. Spock? That is hardly Starfleet's mission."
"We only want to save the life of the Captain," repeated Spock.
"You have not proved your case to the Federation, or even to Starfleet, for that matter," said the Admiral.
"What's the matter wi' them all?" said Scott in a surly voice. "Ye'd think naebody but us care at all . . ."
Spock shushed him with a wave of his hand behind his back.
"I'm positive I will be able to do so to your satisfaction, Admiral. It has been clear to me since my first exchange of, er . . . courtesies with the Prime Minister that they have taken the Captain prisoner."
"Granted, Mr. Spock."
"I know now precisely where the Captain is being held." A stunned silence gripped the crew.
"Leave it to Spock, every time," whispered Uhura. Scott nodded.
". . . If he is at the same place to which we transported him," Spock went on.
"They would not dare to harm him in the Council Chamber!" The Admiral was outraged.
"That is not where the Captain is, Admiral. He is being held nearby."
"Well! You have now answered What and Where. I now await your explanation of Why."
"Since this planet is shielded from our sensors, by Federation agreement, Admiral, we cannot possibly establish that without on-the-spot investigation."
"Mhm. What evidence have you that the Captain's life is threatened?"
"Why else would they keep him?"
"I'm afraid that's not good enough, Mr. Spock. Permission denied."
Spock took a deep breath, fists clenched. "I wish personally to go on record that this decision is completely arbitrary."
"So noted." The screen blipped off.
"Diplomats!" exploded Scott. "What did you mean, Mr. Spock? Didn't we beam the Captain into the Council Chamber?"
"Quiet, please!" Mr. Spock broke through the agitated babble. "No, Mr. Scott, Gideon supplied us with two different sets of coordinates; one for the Captain, and one for our . . . er . . . recent guest." As Scott looked doubtful, he said, 'The Captain's Log is evidence enough—I hope." He turned to the ship's memory. The crew stared at the numbers on the readout.
"You're right, Mr. Spock!"
"Look at that!"
"What kind of finagle is this?" Scott turned to Spock, hands on hips and a glare in his eye.
"What now, Mr. Spock?" said McCoy. "Are we to sit here and wait with our hands folded for the Captain to reappear?"
"This is typical of top echelon isolation." Spock's dry voice conveyed disgust. "They are too far away from the elements that influence crew morale."
"At times like this I don't think they remember that there is such a thing," said McCoy furiously.
"It is unfortunate. But for the first time in my career, I am forced to violate a direct order from Starfleet."
"Hear, hear!" shouted Scott. That's absolutely the right decision, Spock. I'm with you!"
"One hundred percent!" That was Chekov; it was very clear that if Starfleet Command could but hear them the entire crew would be tried for insubordination—at the least.
"I shall beam down there at once." Spock's resolute calm stirred everybody into action; positions were taken.
"Mr. Scott, the con is yours."
"Aye, but ye'll be needing me along," said Scott, protesting.
"The Captain will be needing all of you at your posts." This reminder had the desired effect; subdued, Scott headed for the elevator behind Spock.
"It might be taken as an invasion," McCoy whispered to Scott. "I'll pick up my medical tricorder and meet you in the Transporter Room, Mr. Spock."
"No, Dr. McCoy; I cannot assume responsibility for ordering a fellow officer to violate a Starfleet directive. I go alone."
"Well, that's just about the worst decision you'll ever make, Spock," grumbled McCoy. "I hope you won't regret it."
As he entered the elevator, Spock said, "I'm sure this won't take long." McCoy held out his hand in a good-luck gesture. Spock shook it solemnly, and the doors closed.
"Isn't that just what Captain Kirk said?"
Chekov's words echoed in the suddenly quiet room.
Odona wandered around Sickbay, fingering pieces of equipment, peering curiously at instruments, spelling out the names of chemicals.
"If I can find a medical tricorder I'll be cured in no time," said Kirk, rummaging in a cabinet.
"Cured?"
"My arm," said Kirk patiently. "The pain would be gone."
"Oh. What will happen if you do not find it? Will you become sick? Will you, uh, die?"
Kirk looked at her, astonished. "Of this little scratch? Of course not. It would heal itself, eventually. It's just a simple . . ." He looked closely at the little wound.
"Or is it?" Recollections of biological sampling, blood tests, other scientifically motivated wounds went through his mind. Had someone wanted something of his tissues? Well, there was no telling. He turned back to the cabinet.
"All this is needed to cure those who are . . . sick?" Odona was examining the autoclave. Kirk nodded.
"It is cruel. Why are they not allowed to die?"
"What did you say?"
"Why don't you let them die?"
Her hand lay on the cauterizer; Kirk jumped.
"Don't touch that!"
He was a fraction of a second too late; Odona had bumped the switch; a jet of flame streaked out. Kirk jerked her away from the machine and switched off the flame in one motion.
"Are you hurt?"
"Just my hand." Odona had not even blinked, had not cried out. Was this a spartan self-control—or something else?"
"Let me see it." She covered her damaged hand.
"It's nothing."
He pulled the hand gently but firmly into the light. Her forefinger was burnt completely away.
"My God!" Kirk's grip tightened with sympathetic horror. She withdrew her hand.
"The pain is already gone. Don't worry." Her voice was quite calm.
"Sutures . . . it's already cauterized . . . shock . . ." Kirk plunged at the cabinet.
"Wait." She was utterly unperturbed. "It's already healing."
Kirk glanced at the hand she held out to him and lurched into the cabinet door. A tiny forefinger had already appeared where a moment ago had been a raw wound. As he goggled, the finger grew before his eyes. In a matter of minutes Odona's hand was as whole as ever.
"See?" she said. "Why did you worry so much? This is strange to you?"
"Regeneration . . ." he muttered. "Injuries heal themselves?'
"Just as your arm will," she said, reassuringly.
"No. I have never seen anything like this before. Do all your people have this capacity?"
"Of course."
"They do not fall sick. Or die."
Once again the fleeting expression of panic swept over her face.
"That is why they long for death," Kirk said slowly, gazing at her. "So many, no one ever dying . . ."
He became aware of a sound—a sound not due to his own or Odona's movements. It grew in his consciousness to a steady throb.
"Do you hear that?" he asked. Odona nodded. Kirk prowled the room, listening at the walls for the direction of the sound. He checked his watch; it timed at seventy-two beats per minute. Odona put her hand to her forehead.
"It sounds like an engine,'' she offered.
"The ship's engine makes no sound."
"But there is something wrong with the equipment. Could that be it?"
"I know every sound on this ship; this is coming from outside," said Kirk, trying to recollect what the timing had reminded him about.
"Is it a storm?"
"We wouldn't hear a storm in here. Come along, it's not coming from here, at any rate."
They moved cautiously along the corridor, Kirk leading the girl by the hand. Her hand was cold, and a little damp. She must be terrified. The pulse of sound went on, no louder and no less. Kirk stopped at a viewing port in the observation corridor.
"We can see outside from here—if it works." He depressed a button. Nothing happened. He reached for the manual control lever. The panel slid open.
To his horrified amazement, the port was filled with the faces he had imagined when Odona had burst out with her passionate yearning for solitude. Silently screaming, the faces filled his vision with distress and longing. He fell back a step, glanced at Odona. When he looked at the screen again it showed only the still and starlit skies.
Sharply he asked, "What did you see?"
"People . . . the faces of people; and stars."
She turned to him, pale. "What is it? What's happening?"
The sound stopped as suddenly as it had begun. He remembered; the beat had been identical with the human heartbeat. Thousands of people outside the ship, pressing against it with their bodies.
"You said we were moving through space."
"Yes."
"Then there couldn't really be people out there."
"There could," Kirk said grimly. "Someone could be creating an illusion in our minds. Why would they want to do that, Odona?"
She shrank from him. He saw that her forehead was beaded with perspiration.
"I don't know. I don't know anything. Why do you ask me?"
"I wonder . . . if we were convinced of a location, we would stop searching. We might be content: to stay here, mightn't we?"
"Be . . . content." Odona's pallor belied her calm. Suddenly he was irritated and tired of trickery.
"Where is my crew, girl? Are they dead? Have you killed them to have the ship to yourself ?"
She shivered in his grasp, scarlet patches flaming her cheeks. Her sapphire eyes had lost their sparkle, looked dull and sunken.
"No, no, I don't know anything. Please, Captain, something strange is happening to me. I never felt like this . . ."
"Neither have I," said Kirk, as cold as ice.
"Am I sick? Is this . . . dying?" she whispered, clinging to a doorframe. Her weight fell on Kirk's arms as he gripped her firmly.
"You do not know of sickness," he said. "You have none on your planet. What kind of . . ."
"Now there will be . . . sickness, now there will be death!" Her voice died in a whisper as she fainted, smiling.
"What the blue . . ." Kirk caught her. Bearing her in his arms he started straight back to Sickbay. As he approached the door he was arrested by the sound of pounding feet coming down the corridor.
"Hodin!"
Guards surrounded him as Hodin ponderously walked toward Kirk and his burden.
"Yes, Captain. Our experiment has passed the first stage."
The explanation would have to wait.
"Let me by," he said urgently. "I must help her."
"No," said Hodin, quietly. "We do not want any of your medicines."
"But she's very ill. Look at her—she needs help, and at once."
"We are grateful for her illness. Thank you, Captain. You have done more than you know for us."
Kirk thought they must be mad. He looked at Odona. Her eyelids fluttered. Hodin spoke gravely.
"My dear daughter, you have done well." He took the limp form from Kirk and turned away. The deputation closed in around the baffled Captain.
"Guard him well, we shall need him for a long time," called Hodin over his shoulder.
In total perplexity Kirk marched along with his guard. What had happened to his crew? This corridor along which they were now walking was unfamiliar; not aboard the Enterprise, then. Well, where was the Enterprise? Why did this diplomat want his daughter to die? Perhaps he could take comfort from the fact that he alone had been tricked; perhaps crew and ship were safe elsewhere. They drew near to the "Captain's Quarters" and he heard voices. He halted, despite the guards' effort to press him along.
"I must see him," came the faint tone of Odona.
"Yes, yes. But now you must lie still." Hodin's voice had lost some of its smoothness. "Do you feel great pain?"
"My arms . . . and . . . thighs . . ."
Avid, yet tender, Hodin said, "What is it like?"
"It is like . . . like when we have seen that the people have no hope, Father. You felt . . . great despair. Your heart was heavy because you could do nothing. It is like that."
"You have great courage, my daughter. I am very proud of you." Hodin closed the door softly behind him. Kirk stepped toward him anxiously.
"Let me see her."
"Not yet."
"You don't know what illness she has. Maybe I can tell."
Hodin looked at him gravely. "We know. She has Vegan choriomeningitis."
"Oh, my God." Kirk stepped back; "If she is not treated at once, within twenty-four hours, she will die. I know; it nearly killed me."
Hodin nodded. "Yes, Captain. We learned of your medical history, as we did the plan of a starship, during the negotiations. We brought you here to obtain the microorganisms."
"So that's how my arm was hurt."
"My apologies. As you have learned, we have no medical practitioners. We were unforgivably awkward to have inflicted pain on you . . ."
"You mean you deliberately infected your own daughter . . ." Overcome with fury, Kirk turned on his guards. His right fist shot out and caught one in the midriff; as he doubled up with a grunt, Kirk lashed out at the other and leaped for the door of Odona's sickroom. But the first man had recovered and dived at Kirk's feet, bringing him down; the second guard pulled him roughly up and dragged him back to Hodin.
"We do not wish to hurt you. You will see her as soon as we are certain she is susceptible."
"You are mad!" cried Kirk in frustrated rage.
"No, Captain. We are desperate. Bring him along to the Council Chamber."
The chamber was a scene of excited chatter, the deputies of Gideon's government descending upon Hodin, demanding, "How is she? What has happened?"
Hodin waved them to their places around the table. Kirk was brought forward between his guards.
"Your report to the Federation was a tissue of lies," he said angrily. "You described Gideon as a Paradise."
"And so it was . . . once. A long time ago it was as we described it. In the germ-free atmosphere of Gideon people flourished in physical and spiritual perfection, Captain. The life-span was extended and extended, until finally death comes only to the very ancient, when regeneration is no longer possible.
These gifts, Captain, have been our reward for respecting life."
"Most people would envy you."
"We no longer find this condition enviable. Births have increased our population until Gideon is encased in a living mass of beings without rest, without peace, without joy."
"Then why have you not introduced measures to make your people sterile?"
"They do not work," said Hodin simply. "All known techniques are defeated by our organs' capacity to regenerate, like my daughter's hand."
"There are other ways to prevent conception, however."
"This is our dilemma, Captain. Life is sacred to our people. This is the one unshakable tradition. Yet we pay for the gifts that the worship of life has brought us, and the price is very heavy. Because of our overwhelming love of life we have the gifts of regeneration and longevity."
"And misery."
"That is the contradiction."
"The reality, Hodin."
Hodin flinched. He turned his back for a moment, then walked back and forth, the tortured confusion of his mind all too apparent.
"What are we to do? We cannot deny the truth of what has shaped us as we are. We are not capable of interfering with the Creation we love so deeply. It is against our natures."
"Yet you can kill your own daughter. How can you Justify that?"
"We are not killing her. It is the disease that will or will not kill her; this is not under our control. The opportunity came to us, perhaps as a gift; we have seized upon it to readjust the life cycle of this planet. My daughter had hoped you might be brought to feel the agony of Gideon, Captain. It is impossible; no stranger could realize the horror of existence.
"I will not ask you to understand my personal grief; nor will I parade it to gain your cooperation." Hodin had stopped pacing, and faced Kirk proudly.
"My daughter has won my pride, as she has always had my love. She has freely chosen to take this chance with her life, as all the people of Gideon are free to choose. And she cannot be sure she is right."
This virus is rare. Where do you intend to get it?" said Kirk, grappling with the first of these problems that he felt able to handle.
The smooth diplomatic mask slipped over Hodin's face. Kirk was suddenly wary.
"Your blood will provide it, Captain. You will be staying here."
Kirk slammed the table with the flat of his hand.
"Not me, Hodin. You have other ways to solve your problem. I do not offer my Me for this purpose at all; I have other commitments. And I have other hopes for Odona than death."
"My daughter hoped you would love her—enough to stay."
Kirk looked hard at him. "What passed between your daughter and me was between us alone."
"She pleaded with you to stay."
"You watched us, didn't you?"
Hodin bowed his head in admission. "We are desperate. And privacy is perhaps of less concern to us than to you."
"I'm desperate too, you . . ."
Kirk was interrupted by a buzzer. A message was delivered to Hodin, who raised his head in proud sorrow.
"You may go to her now. She is calling for you. You cannot leave quite yet, Captain, can you?"
"Spock to Enterprise. Spock to Enterprise."
"Scott here, Mr. Spock."
"Mr. Scott, I am speaking to you from the bridge of the Enterprise."
"Ye're what, man?"
"Speaking from the bridge of the Enterprise, Mr. Scott.
"Those were the coordinates you gave me!"
"They were correct. I am apparently on an exact duplicate of the Enterprise."
"What's that? Is it in orbit?"
"You could say so; Gideon is in orbit, this ship is on Gideon."
"Weel, that's a beginning, Spock. What about the Captain?"
"I'm sure he's somewhere here, Mr. Scott. I'm picking up life readings locally. Spock over and out."
Kirk knelt by the side of the bunk where Odona lay, flushed with fever, her cloud of silvery black hair tarnished and lifeless. He looked up at Hodin.
"If you do not let me get Dr. McCoy it will soon be too late for her."
"We have told you, Captain Kirk. It is her wish and mine that there be no interference with the natural development of this precious virus."
"What is the matter with you? If she lives, her blood would contain the virus just as mine does. She doesn't have to die."
"She must die. Our people must believe in this escape."
"She is so young . . ."
"Because she is young she will be an inspiration to our people. Don't you see, Captain, she will become a symbol for others to follow? In time, Gideon will once again be the Paradise it was . . ."
Odona's sigh pierced the shell of exaltation Hodin had erected around his consciousness. Kirk smoothed her blazing forehead; Hodin stood by her bedside in a state of misery. But Odona's weary eyes only gazed at Kirk.
"I . . . am glad you are here. Is my time short?"
"Very short," Kirk whispered.
"I asked you to make the journey last forever." She smiled wanly. "It began here, didn't it?"
Kirk spoke very clearly, hoping to penetrate the feverish haze that surrounded her senses.
"The journey can continue. If you will let me, I can make you well."
"Lake your arm?"
He nodded hopefully. She lay still, expressionless. Then, with a slight cry, she raised her arms to embrace him. The delicacy that had given her such grace in health now gave her too much fragility in his arms. He willed her with all his might to agree to be cured.
"I am not afraid of . . . what will happen. I am not at all afraid," she murmured feebly against his shoulder. "It's only that now . . . I wish it could be . . . with you . . . forever . . ." Her voice sank. Gently Kirk laid her unconscious head on the pillow.
The door closed with a decisive snap.
"I am glad to see you looking so well, Captain. Apparently Starfleet's analysis was correct after all." Spock's cool words cut into the air.
Kirk whirled; it was Spock. "I'm fine," he managed to say. "But we do have a patient." He lifted Odona from the bed. Hodin stood, paralyzed.
"Spock to Enterprise. Spock to Enterprise Three to beamup Mr.Scott," Spock slipped the words out with machine-gun speed.
Three—? Er—same coordinates, Mr. Spock?"
Scott had obviously grasped the need for haste.
Hodin plunged at Spock with an inarticulate sound of fury.
"Your Excellency, please do not interfere." As the sparkles replaced the three figures, Mr. Spock's last, "I already have enough to explain to upper echelons, Prime Minister," hung in the air over Hodin's impotent rage.
"I am . . . cured?" Odona's tone wavered between disappointment and wonder.
"Completely." Kirk lifted her to her feet and stood smiling down at her brightened eyes.
"Then I can now take your place on Gideon," she said gravely.
"Is that what you want to do?" Kirk was very serious, yet a small smile crossed his face as he watched her. She touched his cheek tenderly, lightly.
"That is what I must do. I am needed there."
Kirk kissed her hand, a gesture of salute to her gallantry—and a farewell. "People like you are needed everywhere, Odona."
They walked side by side into the corridor.
"Will you sign this, please, sir?" A young crewman held out a clipboard to Kirk. He scrawled his initials, and in the bustle of traffic in the corridor he saw her watching a couple stroll hand in hand toward the lounge. As she caught his eye, the wistfulness in her face vanished. She smiled.
"It's different from our Enterprise."
"It's almost exactly the same," said Kirk. "Only this one works." He added wryly, "And it's crowded."
She laughed. "Does it seem so to you?"
"It does now."
"Excuse me, Captain, but before this young lady goes home we are obliged to devise some way to complete our mission. The Prime Minister, you may recall, was somewhat agitated when we last saw him." Spock was apologetic, but quite firm.
Kirk clapped a hand to his head. "Foof, I was forgetting him. Call McCoy and Scott; we'll confer on the bridge."
"Captain," said Spock very formally. "I beg leave to report that I have broken regulations. Starfleet Command gave specific orders which I, upon my own responsibility, disobeyed. In view of Prime Minister Hodin's intransigence to date . . ."
"If you mean father," said Odona, "he did not really want me to volunteer for this sickness at all. He will be grateful to have me back, and if I am carrying the virus, all will be well."
"He wanted you to be a symbol for your people," said Kirk thoughtfully. "He was quite impassioned about that, Odona."
"He had to have some way to live with himself, letting me die, Captain," said Odona gently. "I haven't died. Perhaps there may be some way to inspire our people, nevertheless."
Spock was frowning into his console. "I wonder," he said. "There are many ways to gather public approval—besides the sacrifice of . . . er . . . young women."
There was a silence; each of them cast about in his mind for alternatives. Hodin required something that would serve to call forth volunteers from his people for infection with a deadly disease; and this was a unique public relations problem for the crew of the Enterprise to consider.
"In the old days of medicine . . ." began McCoy. "I seem to recall that there was some sort of signal . . . illness aboard, doctor required; I don't quite remember . . ."
Spock laughed. "Bravo, Doctor!" He punched rapidly at his console. "Here it is; a distress flag, flown by seagoing vessels . . . the design sounds simple enough."
Uhura rose from her seat. "I'll see to it at once." She left the room quickly.
"What is it? What are you doing?" Odona was unable to follow their rapid trains of thought. Kirk smiled to himself. This time her puzzlement was genuine.
"What we propose, madame, is to send you home with a badge of honor," said Spock. "When you show it to your father, he can offer such badges to all your people who volunteer for the . . . service he so urgently wishes to render them. This will make it a matter of pride to have such a badge in the family, and thus serve the same purpose as your death was designed to do."
Uhura returned with a small flag, as described by Spock. Kirk took it from her, and going up to Odona, while the crew stood at full attention, he pinned it ceremoniously to her shoulder.
"For service to Gideon above and beyond the call of duty," he intoned. He hesitated, then kissed her on both cheeks. "An old custom of some of our people," he said, smiling at her blush.
"Will you stay on the ship?" she whispered.
He looked at her quickly. In that moment he recognized the ambiguity of her question, and replied unmistakably.
"On this ship, I will stay, Odona."
She said wistfully, "Forever?"
"Sometimes I think so," he said, very quietly. "But this is my ship, my dear." He struck at the intercom.
"Kirk to Transporter Room. One to beam down to Gideon."
Later, McCoy asked, "Captain, is the Federation really all that anxious to gain the membership of what is now more or less a plague planet?"
"That," said Kirk, with a glance at Spock, "will be for the diplomats to decide."