by 06(lit)
"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 regen-erates. 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 shoul-ders. 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 ex-pression 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 puzzle-ment 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 tem-perature.
"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 ex-hausted.
"Why were you sent here, Odona?" Kirk put the question compassionately.
Her head lifted proudly. "No one commands Odo-na. 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 an-swer, 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 excla-mation. 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 Sick-bay," 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 Admi-ral, 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 pro-voking 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 Admi-ral.
"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 satisfac-tion, 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 trans-ported 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. Per-mission denied."
Spock took a deep breath, fists clenched. "I wish personally to go on record that this decision is com-pletely 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 agi-tated 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 evi-dence enough-I hope." He turned to the ship's mem-ory. 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 Cap-tain 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; sub-dued, 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 direc-tive. 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, spell-ing 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 some-thing 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 them-selves?'
"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 direc-tion 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 hap-pening?"
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, cling-ing 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."