Star Trek - TOS - Mission to Horatius

by Mack Reynolds

  "Well, yes, sir. Now that you mention it, it did. In fact, just fifteen minutes or so ago I discussed it with Mr. Chekov. But by that time we were under way, and I was due on watch."

  "And ... ?"

  "Well, he said he'd investigate and report to Mr. Spock."

  "Mr. Sulu, who is the stowaway?"

  Sulu cleared his throat again. "Well, it would seem to be Grang, sir."

  "I don't know why I bothered to ask," the captain said bitterly. "Mr. Navigator, reverse your course."

  "Aye, aye, sir."

  From the background, where he had been standing, Dr. McCoy protested, "You mean we're going to prolong this confounded mission by returning to a planet we've already found was not the one we're looking for?"

  Kirk ignored him.

  Spock said thoughtfully, "Captain, it occurs to me that if we postpone the return of our young savage until we have solved the problem of the distress call and the raiders, he will be safe from recrimination on the part of his people. In fact, he would undoubtedly be a bit of a hero-a worthy return for his efforts in our behalf."

  The doctor spoke up again. "If we go running back and forth between these Horatian planets this way, we'll spend the rest of eternity on this-"

  "Please, Bones," the captain snapped. He was obviously in a high state of irritation.

  He came to a quick decision. "Very well, Mr. Navigator, cancel that order. Mr. Helmsman, proceed on course one-eighteen, mark ten. Mr. Sulu, I am not going to inquire into whether or not you or Mr. Chekov discussed that specimen container with young Grang while we were waiting to be beamed back to the ship. However, in addition to your present duties, you have now acquired one to take care of all of your off-duty hours. You are not to allow Grang out of your sight. He will be quartered with you. While you are on watch, Mr. Chekov will accompany the boy. I consider it your responsibility for any violation of General Order Number One."

  "Yes, sir," Sulu said brightly.

  "And Mr. Sulu...."

  "Yes, sir."

  "If that young savage does anything-anything at all-to disrupt the workings of this ship, we shall delve further into the odd circumstances under which he managed to sneak himself aboard."

  "Aye, aye, sir."

  Dr. McCoy said, "I suppose I'd better get the subject of all this conversation into the sick bay for an examination. He's probably alive with bacteria. All we need is for him to have brought aboard some far-out disease native to Neolithia."

  In the wardroom Security Officer Masaryk glowered down at the game of solitaire spread before him. "How can you play this game," he complained, "when every deck of cards left on the ship is so worn you can read the backs from memory?"

  Lieutenant De Paul leaned back from the scanner upon which he had been reading. "That's the trouble with a good memory. I suspect I've read everything aboard five times over." He indicated the tape before him. "I think I could recite this one."

  Uhura, who had been sitting to one side staring unseeingly before her, said, "Why don't you study something? Improve your mind, that sort of thing?"

  De Paul grunted. "Can't concentrate. Too sluggish. Did you hear what the recreation officer said? Every class on board has closed down, even those on such subjects as music. Nobody has the push to do anything."

  Ensign Freeman looked distastefully about the wardroom. "You know," he said, "I sometimes get the feeling that I've spent my whole life on this confounded ship. And to think I used to believe I liked the Starfleet service."

  Masaryk said, "The next time I'm given a questionnaire to fill out, I'm going to put on it, 'Born on Earth, reared on the U.S.S. Enterprise.'"

  Sulu stuck his head in the door and looked about to check on who was present

  "Sulu!" De Paul called. "I thought you were the only man on board who had something to do in his spare time-training that rat, Mickey. I've been looking forward to a demonstration." He laughed bitterly and said to Freeman, "Imagine getting so bored you look forward to seeing a rat put on a show."

  Sulu entered and said, "Folks, let me introduce the latest addition to the Enterprise, my protg, Grang."

  Grang followed the chief helmsman into the wardroom. His eyes were wide, but he was hiding his obvious bewilderment surprisingly well. He had evidently been washed and scrubbed clean of war paint in the ship's bay for sanitary reasons, and his fur kilts had been disinfected. He looked, if anything, a bit younger than he had before.

  Sulu went through the routine of introducing him, and Grang managed to take it all in his stride.

  Here, at least, was something a bit new. All had heard the rumor of the young savage picked up on Neolithia, but thus far none of those present had met him.

  "Heavens to Betsy," Freeman exclaimed. "Somebody new. A sight for sore eyes. Welcome aboard, Grang. In the way of hospitality, I'd teach you to play Ping-Pong if this oaf Sulu hadn't stepped on the last ball a month or more ago."

  Lieutenant Chang said, "Showing our guest the ship, Sulu?"

  "That's right," Sulu said sourly. "Doc McCoy insists I introduce him to everybody aboard. The doc evidently figures that anything new is of some value in keeping us from moping. Frankly, I'd forgotten how big this starship is. Eleven decks thick, mind you."

  Grang had been standing silent, his eyes still wide. He frowned at the stringed instrument in Uhura's hands.

  She smiled encouragingly at him. "Never seen this particular version of a guitar before, Grang?"

  Sulu snorted. "He's never seen any version of a guitar before. His people probably haven't anything more musical than a drum."

  "I'll show you." Uhura smiled again at the young Neolithian.

  She ran a thumb over the strings, settling down on the arm of a chair. She riffled through a few chords and then began a ballad of yesteryear. The others settled back. Uhura's singing was one of the few items of shipboard life that none had wearied of thus far.

  Grang was obviously taken aback. Though he was in his mid-teens, it was plain that the boy had never heard modern music before, certainly not of the type that issued from Uhura's instrument-and from her throat.

  A string went ping.

  The communications officer's face fell. "Oh, no," she said.

  Ensign Freeman closed his eyes. "I'll bet my left arm that's the last string of that type, too."

  "It is," Uhura said bitterly. She looked down at her instrument in disgust.

  Sulu said to Grang, "Come on; we can't spend all our time here. I'll take you to the ship's gym next"

  "Yes, Sulu," Grang said. He looked at Uhura almost apologetically. "I am sorry the gods broke the string on your... your box of music."

  She grinned back at him a trifle wryly. "So am I, Grang," she said.

  When Sulu and Grang entered the ship's gym, they found Dr. McCoy there, arguing heatedly with Lieutenant Peterson, the recreation officer.

  McCoy was saying, "And I tell you that some way you've got to spark some competitive feeling. Get teams organized in some sport or other."

  Peterson said impatiently, "And I tell you the whole crew's too lethargic to get excited about anything, let alone sport" He waved a hand around the moderately large compartment. At one end two men were idly handling weights, obviously lacking any enthusiasm, killing time without finding pleasure in the activity.

  "Three hundred officers and men off watch, and look how empty the place is. You know what they're doing, most of them? Lying in their bunks, staring up at the overhead, or lounging around in the mess halls. They haven't even got the get-up-and-go to fight or argue among themselves."

  "You have got to do your best to stir them into activity!"

  "And I keep telling you, I can't drag them in here. To participate in sports, you've got to want to participate."

  McCoy cast his eyes upward in despair. "I've already got two of them in stasis."

  Peterson stared at him. "In what?"

  "In deep sleep. They were showing cafard symptoms. To prevent it from developing, I put the men in deep
sleep."

  "I thought that was dangerous except for short periods."

  "It is," McCoy said desperately, "but not as dangerous as space cafard. And at least it isn't contagious."

  They both looked up as two newcomers entered the gym.

  Sulu said, "Lieutenant Peterson, Dr. McCoy, have you met the ship's, ah, guest, Grang?"

  McCoy, preoccupied, nodded curtly.

  Peterson's eyebrows went up. "Well," he said, still scowling over his discussion with the ship's senior surgeon. "I had understood you were younger." He reached out, more or less absently, and felt the other's biceps. "You'll have to work out here in the gym, and we'll see about building you up a-" But his sentence ended there.

  Lieutenant Peterson was an average-size man in his late twenties. He was well developed, taught both boxing and wrestling, and was the ship's champion in both sports.

  Now, however, he felt himself in midair, tumbling. Luckily he had been standing immediately in front of a wrestling mat He landed flat on his back on the pad.

  "Grang!" Sulu yelped.

  The youngster was in a half-crouch, his hands forward in a wrestler's stance. "I am Grang of the Wolves," he snarled, "and no man touches hand to me in violence."

  The doctor, who was as popeyed as his shipmates, suddenly relaxed and barked out a laugh. "Peterson," he chuckled, "you're out of shape."

  The other came to his feet, his eyes narrow and his face slightly flushed. "He caught me off guard," he snapped angrily.

  Sulu said to Grang, "Nobody on this ship wishes you violence. This officer schools us in sports, in having fun."

  Grang came erect, his face burning. "I am shamed," he said. "I do not know your customs. On Neolithia no man touches another in violence."

  Peterson said gruffly, "That's all right, son. In fact, that's a pretty good hold you had there. However-"

  "I am not your son," Grang said. "We are not even kin, Lieutenant of the Petersons."

  In spite of the fact that the Neolithian was just a boy, Peterson was still somewhat miffed, particularly in view of the fact that both Dr. McCoy and Sulu were obviously amused.

  He said, "Have it your way. What do you say we try another fall?"

  "Another fall?" Grang frowned.

  The recreation officer reached out suddenly, grasped the young savage by the right hand, and turned quickly, intending to lever the other over his shoulder in the old wrestling standby, the flying mare hold.

  But in a flash Grang had bounded to the side, turned his own back, and swung in a blur of motion in such a manner that the wrestling champion of the Starship Enterprise was flung almost to the floor beyond the heavily padded mat. Had he struck the floor, he could well have broken an arm or a leg, since his limbs were outstretched in every direction.

  McCoy bleated uncharacteristic laughter. "By heaven!" he roared. "If the crew could only see this. It'd keep them from cafard for a week or more!"

  Grang turned to Sulu and lifted one hand as though in supplication. "You told me he wished me no violence," he said.

  Peterson was flat on his back again, his eyes closed in disgust, and his mouth twisted wryly-though in good humor. "I give up," he said. "I'm going to apply to the captain to switch me to the steward's department. Grang can have my job."

  Sulu was laughing aloud.

  Just then the compartment's intercom viewing screen announced, "Mister Sulu to the bridge, please. We are about to go into orbit"

  5. WELCOME-WITH RESERVATIONS

  When Sulu entered the bridge from the elevator, all was normal. The captain was in his command chair, frowning up at the bridge viewing screen. Spock was at his library-computer station; and Uhura, at her communications station, touched dials and switches. Various other crewmen and officers of the Enterprise were at their posts.

  Kirk said, "Take the helm, Mr. Sulu. Mr. Chekov has assumed your charge?"

  "Yes, sir. Ensign Chekov is continuing to show Grang around the ship."

  Sulu relieved the junior helmsman and took his place.

  "Standard orbit again, Mr. Sulu. Twenty-thousand-mile perigee. We'll take a look at this Mythra." Captain Kirk reached out to increase the magnification of the viewing screen.

  "Spock, what do the sensors tell us?"

  "Another Class-M planet, Captain. Almost identical to Neolithia."

  "Gravity?"

  "All but identical to that of Earth, Captain."

  Captain Kirk continued to increase magnification. A city, or at least a town, swam into view. He centered on it

  "Well, at least we have some signs of population and some form of civilization here. What would you say, Mr. Spock?"

  "Very interesting, Captain. However, the term 'civilization' is somewhat elastic."

  The captain looked at him.

  The Vulcan said blandly, "Walled towns, such as Jericho, were found on Earth as early as 9000 B.C., Captain. But I would not exactly call the inhabitants of such Stone Age settlements civilized. By the looks of that city on the screen, I would compare it to a Middle Ages town. We Vulcans hardly consider the period civilized."

  Captain Kirk emitted a slight snort and peered back at the screen. "You would seem correct, at that. There are similarities to a medieval walled town. But let us look further."

  As they continued to orbit Mythra, the captain periodically increased and decreased magnification of the viewing screen as he scanned the planet. Occasionally new cities were picked up and submitted to closer scrutiny. They all seemed remarkably alike.

  "Comments?" Kirk said finally.

  Sulu said, "I get the impression they have a world government, Captain."

  "Why do you say that, Mr. Sulu?"

  "Because every town you've picked up is almost identical. Buildings that look considerably like the temples and palaces from the graphics I've seen of Middle Ages towns of old Earth Europe, complete with what look like fortifications and drawbridges. The rest of the buildings a bit on the drab and run-down side. But each town so like the others that you'd think they were out of the same mold."

  Spock was nodding. "I agree. There would seem to be one central directing authority."

  The captain mused, "There is that one town, city really, considerably larger than any of the others- possibly the world capital. Mr. Sulu, we will assume orbit over that metropolis."

  "Aye, aye, sir."

  "Lieutenant Uhura, open hailing frequencies."

  "Aye, aye, Captain. Sir...."

  "Yes, Lieutenant?"

  "They seem to have radio, a somewhat primitive radio, but lack more advanced communications."

  "See if you can raise someone, Lieutenant"

  "Yes, sir. I'm trying, sir." She continued to spin dials, touch buttons.

  Captain Kirk stirred impatiently at the long delay.

  Finally Lieutenant Uhura said, "Captain, in the large temple below, there would seem to be a radio station. Not a public broadcasting station, but evidently a communication center. So far as I can detect, there are no viewing screens. They have not advanced, evidently, to television or videophone. Just simple radio."

  "Thank you, Lieutenant Open communication if you can."

  Uhura spoke into a mike. After long minutes she said, "Captain, I have someone."

  "Put it on my screen, here."

  "Aye, aye, sir."

  Captain Kirk said into his command chair communication screen, "This is Captain James Kirk, of the United Space Ship Enterprise, representing the United Federation of Planets. I wish to speak with someone in authority."

  The communicator spoke, and there were elements of both surprise and apprehension in the voice. "This is Pater Delvin, Brother of Communications of the United Temple. How is this that you speak on the sacred airwaves?"

  Kirk said dryly, "Your sacred airwaves are radio waves and open to anyone with radio equipment, Pater Delvin. Please put me in communication with your governor or mayor or whatever he may be called locally."

  "You mean the Supreme Exarch?" There was a
n element of shock in the voice now.

  "I suppose so," Kirk said impatiently. "Whoever your top authority might be."

  Spock said, "You'll recall, Captain, that Mythra was settled by religious dissidents who evidently fled here to escape what they considered persecution. Apparently the government is a theocracy."

  "Thank you, Mr. Spock." The captain flicked the control switch, temporarily disconnecting his contact with the Mythran. "Mr. Spock, put your sensors on this. Although our friend below hasn't even television at his command and won't be able to see us, there's no reason why we can't take a look at him."

  "Yes, Captain."

  "Throw it on the main viewing screen, Mr. Spock."

  Spock moved deft, long fingers, and the interior of a room appeared on the screen above. "Most interesting," Spock said.

  They were looking into what seemed to be an odd mixture of a monk's cell and an early radio shack. One robed figure was at the moment leaving the room; another sat before a radio transmitter, his eyes wide. He was a heavy man in his middle years, large of paunch, heavy of jowl.

  Kirk said to Uhura wryly, "Your opposite number could use a bit of exercise, Lieutenant" He took up a hand mike and said into it, "Who is the Supreme Exarch?"

  They could see the monk-like figure jerk when the voice came through the receiver.

  "Why ... why the Supreme Exarch is the Extreme Holy of the United Temple."

  Sulu said, "They've got a theocracy, all right, all right"

  Two new figures hurried into the radio room so far below them. One of the two was a younger man, garbed much as was Pater Delvin, but the other was a tall, vigorous type, dressed in unbelievably rich garments. He bore an air of command as though born to it "What nonsense is this?" the newcomer called out sharply to the radio man.

  "A call from out of the blue, Your Holy. Perhaps ... perhaps we are in communication with the Ultimate."

  "Don't be a fool, Delvin. Here, give me that!" He snatched the mike from his underling and snapped into it, "Warren, Supreme Exarch of Mythra, here."

  Kirk said, "Your Holy, this is Captain James Kirk speaking. I am in command of a United Federation of Planets starship now orbiting your world. We have come in response to a subspace distress call received by our Starfleet Command."