Mission to Horatius

by Mack Reynolds

  "Your protest, Scotty?"

  Scott said doggedly, "If one of the matter antimatter engines blows this far out, we'd take the rest of eternity to limp back on the impulse power engines. In fact, we'd have to send out a distress call for emergency repairs. It'd be a spot on my record I wouldn't like to see, Captain Kirk."

  "Very well, Scotty," Kirk said stiffly. "We'll proceed at warp factor six." He flicked off the screen.

  Dr. McCoy had gone over to Spock's library computer station where he was saying, "You have some influence over him, Spock. Use it to have him turn back."

  Spock said, "My dear doctor, he is the captain. Besides, I am as familiar with the Enterprise's proud tradition as anyone else. Most enviable. I would dislike to see it ended by a simple fear of the crew's going stale."

  The doctor stared at him. "Going stale!" he blurted. "Spock, you have no conception of the reality of cafard." He turned to stomp off in disgust

  Captain Kirk, still irritated, was staring at the helmsman before him. He said suddenly, "Mr. Sulu, what in the world is wrong with your tunic?"

  The helmsman turned, his face blank. "My tunic, sir?"

  "That bulge. It seems to be moving."

  Lieutenant Sulu cleared his throat unhappily. "Bulge, sir?"

  Captain Kirk said, "Mr. Sulu, what do you have there under your tunic?"

  By this time all attention was on the slightly built helmsman, even that of the disgruntled Dr. McCoy.

  Sulu closed his eyes in apprehension. "Well, sir," he said, "it's probably Mickey."

  The captain looked at him.

  Sulu cleared his throat again and reached a hand up under his uniform tunic. He brought forth a small brown animal. He set it down on the console before him and said apologetically, "Mickey, sir."

  Captain Kirk stared. "Where did that come from, and what is it doing on my bridge?"

  Sulu said, more bravely now but still with the element of apology in his voice, "From the planet Vishnu, sir. When we stopped at Space Station K-Eight I was fortunate enough to acquire Mickey from one of the locals. He's a highly trained animal, sir."

  "I thought you were clear on the orders against pets aboard th e Enterprise since our troubles with the tribbles, Lieutenant" The captain was looking with distaste at the little beast, which was nervously twitching its well-whiskered nose and staring back at the ship's skipper with slightly reddish eyes.

  "Well, yes, sir, of course. However, Mickey isn't exactly a pet, sir."

  "Not a pet? What would you call him, or it, then? I assume, Lieutenant, you didn't bring it aboard with the intention of utilizing it as food."

  "Eat Mickey? Oh, no, sir. He's the first of my collection of exotic animals, Captain. You see"-the words were beginning to come in an enthusiastic rush now-"here we are, touching a hundred different planets, many of them with strange life forms. The way I see it, we should pick up samples of these and when we return to Earth turn them over to the zoological authorities. Very educational, sir. Perhaps someday-" there was a wistful something in Sulu's voice now-"someday, perhaps, there will be a section of a zoo back on Earth called the Lieutenant Sulu section, consisting entirely of rare animals I have donated."

  Spock had been eyeing the crouching little animal. He said now, "Most interesting. I had thought them extinct"

  The captain looked at him. "Mr. Spock, comments?"

  Spock said, "If Lieutenant Sulu wishes to start a collection of exotic alien life forms, I would suggest he begin with other than, ah, Mickey. We have a specimen here of Rattus norvegicus of the family Muridae, originally native to Central Asia-"

  "A bit less technical, if you please, Mr. Spock."

  "Better known as the brown rat. If I am not mistaken-"

  "You are seldom mistaken, I find, Mr. Spock," the captain said dryly.

  "-the brown rat migrated westward early in the eighteenth century, reaching Great Britain about A.D. 1730. A great frequenter of ships, it had soon spread throughout the world, reaching the United States in 1775."

  "Very well, Mr. Spock, we will not at this time go into the full details of the rodent family." The captain looked at his chief helmsman witheringly. "I doubt if the zoo authorities back on Earth would be interested in your far-traveled specimen, Mr. Sulu. Consequently-"

  Dr. McCoy spoke up. "Jim, I suggest you allow Lieutenant Sulu to retain his trained pet as a ship's mascot. We can use such little diversions. Our recreational facilities are in a sad state after all these months in deep space."

  Captain Kirk was not averse to placating his old friend, whom he had just had to step upon. He said, "Very well. However, I am not interested in having, ah, Mickey, on my bridge during your watch, Mr. Sulu. I suggest that you take him below. Mr. Akrumba, please take over Mr. Sulu's position at the helm."

  "Yes, sir." The large junior officer stepped forward and slid into the chair Sulu vacated.

  The navigator spoke up. "Sir, we have reached our position. NGC four hundred."

  Dr. McCoy snorted. "So now, I assume, we can find out just what this mysterious mission is and how long we can be expected to remain in deep space."

  2. MYSTERY PLUS MYSTERY

  Captain Kirk, said, "Mr. Chekov, go to my quarters. On my desk you will find a tape. Please bring it here."

  "Yes, sir." The ensign made his way toward the turbo-lift elevator, the door of which slid open at his approach and closed automatically behind him.

  Those remaining behind on the bridge waited it out.

  The captain flicked an intercom switch and said, "Mr. Scott, we have arrived at our destination. We will drop out of space warp and remain at these coordinates until further orders are determined."

  Scott's voice came through. "Aye, sir."

  Chekov returned, having obviously made every effort at speed. He laid the message container before his commanding officer and stepped back, his youthful Slavic face as inquisitive as any of the others on the ship's bridge.

  The captain broke the seal on the container, brought forth the tape, and inserted it deftly in a scanner which he then activated. He stared down into the screen and almost immediately scowled.

  "The sun system Horatius," he said, looking up. "Mr. Spock?"

  The Vulcan raised his strangely shaped eyebrows. "I do not believe I have ever heard of it, Captain."

  "Which surprises me, Mr. Spock. Horatius. I can't even think of the source of the name."

  The science officer was on firmer ground now. "A legendary Roman hero, sir. The story is that when the Etruscans, under Lars Porsena, were attempting to capture Rome, there was only a single bridge crossing the Tiber River, and the Etruscans were advancing rapidly. The sole chance was to cut the bridge down before the enemy could overrun it. Horatius and two companions-"

  "Just a minute, Mr. Spock," the captain broke in. "We will take your word for it"

  The captain returned to the perusal of his orders. He looked up at last, his face very thoughtful. "Our instructions, briefly, are to proceed to the star system Horatius and investigate the subspace distress call received by Starfleet Command."

  "Who issued the distress signal, Captain?" Spock asked.

  Kirk frowned. "It was evidently cut off before that was revealed. However, the call came through in Earth Basic, which would indicate a planet settled by humans. Please check the computer banks, Mr. Spock."

  Spock bent over his library computer station, peering into the hooded screen, muttering orders, occasionally flicking controls.

  In a surprisingly short period of time, he raised his head, his face registering uncharacteristic amazement "Very interesting," he said.

  "I am sure, Mr. Spock," the captain said dryly. "But will you let us in on your newfound knowledge?"

  "It would seem, Captain, that there is very little information in the computer banks on the Horatian system. It is at the very extreme of this quadrant. Its very discovery, in the early days of space travel, was an accident. A small freighter inadvertently fell out of space warp and int
o under-space. When its crew managed to force the ship back into warp, it materialized near Horatius and set down on one of the three Class-M planets which orbit the sun."

  "Three?" Kirk said.

  "Yes, sir. Later they were named Neolithia, Mythra, and Bavarya. But to resume. The space freighter was forced to remain until the necessary repairs were made. The star was reported and charted, but since it remained in such a far sector, in a direction not being exploited by the Federation, it was largely ignored."

  Captain Kirk was scowling. "But a distress signal in Earth Basic has come from there."

  "Yes, sir. Evidently, although the Federation has not reached out to that point, human colonists have. In fact, the Horatian star system was settled by people who wished to avoid contact with the Federation."

  "But why?" Lieutenant Uhura asked.

  Spock looked at the dark-complexioned communications officer. "The information is sketchy, lieutenant, but it would seem that the colonists of the Horatian system are not in sympathy with Federation ways and have fled to such a distant sector to escape them."

  All present were looking at him blankly.

  Dr. McCoy snorted. "Why? Are they insane?"

  Spock shrugged and looked back briefly into the hooded screen. "The group that first settled and named their planet Neolithia evidently wished to return to nature and abandon the highly technical civilization that exists on the Federation worlds. The second group seemed somewhat similar to the Pilgrims who settled New England; that is, they wished to find a place where they could worship without interference."

  Captain Kirk said, "That's nonsense. There are no restrictions on religious matters in the Federation. Why, General Order Number One specifically states that no starship shall interfere with the political, economic, or religious systems of any world."

  Spock said, "However, Captain, suppose the religion was that of Baal?"

  "I am afraid that my studies of comparative religion are not quite as wide as yours, Mr. Spock. And once again I must mention that you continue to amaze me with your knowledge of the small planet of my birth. Who was Baal?"

  "The chief god of the Phoenicians, Captain. His followers were obligated to throw their first-born child into the flaming maw of Baal as a human sacrifice."

  Uhura, ever sensitive, closed her eyes as if in pain.

  "Go ahead, Mr. Spock," the captain said impatiently. "That accounts for two of the planets. And the third?"

  Spock glanced back into the hooded screen of his library computer and frowned. "Bavarya. The most recently settled of all. Evidently only half a century or so ago. A thousand colonists, no more. Political nonconformists. And that is practically all we know of them."

  Dr. McCoy said, "Why all the secrecy? Why all the nonsense of waiting until we reached this point before disclosing the orders?"

  The captain had been looking back into his tape scanner. "That is at least partially explained, Bones. Although not members of the Federation, all three of the Horatian planets were colonized by Earthlings, and thus we have a moral obligation. However, Starfleet Command is not as yet ready to expand in this direction and is aware of the fart that if either the Romulan Confederation or the Klingon Empire thought we were doing so, they might hurry their own exploration. This whole expedition is top secret, and very few persons even at Starfleet Command know that we are on our way."

  He turned and spoke to the navigator. "What is the listing for the Horatian group on the star chart of this quadrant?"

  "The system is NGC four-three-four, sir."

  "Very well. Mr. Akrumba, lay a course for NGG four-three-four. Warp factor six."

  "Aye, aye, sir. Bearing of thirty-seven, mark two-eleven, sir."

  "Very well, Mr. Akrumba."

  Dr. McCoy growled, "Months!"

  Approximately a dozen off-watch personnel were sprawled lethargically about the wardroom. Four of them were playing cards, some were reading, and a couple were playing chess. The rest were slumped in chairs, talking a bit, but largely staring blankly at nothing in particu lar.

  Lieutenant De Paul threw his cards to the table in disgust "That's it," he snarled. "No more canasta for me. What kind of a game is it when Dick, here, sits next to me and draws six wild cards to my one? What good is a game that's nine-tenths luck?"

  One of the others protested. "It's one of the few games left that we're not sick and tired of."

  "Ha!" De Paul snorted. "You can add it to the list, as far as I'm concerned. What do you say we go back to poker?"

  "Poker?" Ensign Chekov grunted. "What good is poker if you can't bet? And you know the regulations against gambling in space."

  "How about looking at some Tri-Di shows?" somebody suggested listlessly.

  Security Officer Masaryk growled, "Tri-Di shows? You won't have to show them. I can describe every one on board by heart. I've seen them fifty times over."

  Lieutenant De Paul said, "Somebody hand me that tape, 1001 Popular Games Down Through the Centuries. We've got to kill time someway." He slapped the tape into a scanner, but nobody seemed very hopeful that he would come up with anything.

  Lieutenant Uhura, who had been softly strumming on her specially made five-string guitar on the other side of the compartment, said softly, "I read once that killing time isn't murder. It's suicide."

  Chekov snorted. "You don't kill time on the Enterprise these days. It dies a slow death from boredom."

  De Paul, scanning the taped book, said, "Gin rummy. Did we ever play gin rummy?"

  "On the cruise before last," somebody groaned. "We played it until it ran out of our ears. I'm as tired of that as you are of canasta."

  Lieutenant Chang called over to Uhura, "How about a song? There ought to be something to cheer us up."

  Everyone seemed in favor of that

  Uhura smiled as she strummed louder, and a soft, faraway gentleness came into her eyes. She began an age-old folk song.

  One of the guitar strings went ping.

  "Oh, good heavens," she complained. "That's my last spare." She twisted her lovely mouth into a moue. "And Commander Scott tells me that we're so low on some materials that he won't be able to manufacture new ones for me. Well, dear children, from now on any music from this box is played on four strings."

  "Oh, great," somebody muttered.

  "I think I'll read awhile," Ensign Freeman said lackadaisically.

  "Read?" De Paul said. "Read what? We've all read everything in the recreational library three times over. It hasn't been replenished for well over a year. And I simply don't have the gumption these days to wade through technical books the way the chief engineer seems to be able to."

  Science Officer Spock left the elevator and hurried over to his position at the library computer station. A planet loomed in the large bridge viewing screen.

  Captain Kirk, already in his command chair, said to his first officer, "The planet Neolithia, Mr. Spock."

  "Yes, sir." Spock took his chair and began throwing switches, touching controls.

  Captain Kirk said, "Mr. Sulu, go into standard orbit, please. Twenty-thousand-mile perigee."

  "Aye, aye, sir."

  Kirk said, "Lieutenant Uhura, open the hailing frequencies."

  "Aye, aye, sir."

  Sulu said, "Standard orbit, sir. Twenty-thousand-mile perigee."

  "Thank you, Mr. Sulu. Lieutenant Uhura?"

  "No response, sir. Sir...."

  The captain looked at her. "Yes?"

  "Captain, there seem to be no radio emanations whatsoever."

  Kirk scowled and looked at the navigator. "This is the planet Neolithia?"

  "Yes, sir. That is, if the scanty information we have on the Horatian system is correct, sir."

  "Mr. Spock, your sensors on this, please."

  "Yes, sir." Spock's long, agile fingers raced. Shortly the Vulcan's face registered rare surprise. "Most unusual," he muttered. He touched other controls.

  "Well, Mr. Spock?"

  Spock turned to his commanding of
ficer. "Sir, it would seem that not only is the planet below completely lacking any radio emanations whatsoever, but it has never had them."

  "Don't be ridiculous, Mr. Spock. Neolithia is settled by human colonists."

  Spock said nothing.

  The captain, scowling, flicked a screen control. The screen increased magnification many times, until the view was as clear as if the Enterprise hovered no more than a mile or so above the surface.

  The scene couldn't have appeared more Earthlike. But it was as an Earth of centuries past. It could have been, perhaps, Kansas in an age before the white man made his appearance-indeed, before the Indians had acquired horses and thus achieved the ability to pursue the vast herds of buffalo, elk, deer, and antelope. There were no signs of human habitation-neither cities, towns, villages, nor the smallest of hamlets.

  "Mr. Spock, atmosphere analysis?"

  Spock said slowly, "Captain, most unusual. The atmosphere is Earthlike. Nitrogen, oxygen, with traces of argon, krypton, and neon. Temperature seventy-five degrees Fahrenheit Gravitational force identical to that of Earth. However, Captain, the sensors detect one oddity."

  "Well, Spock?"

  The science officer looked at him strangely. "Sir, there are no signs of ... of what was once called smog. No traces of man-made industrial fumes, the burning of fossil fuels such as coal and oil."

  "What are you suggesting, Mr. Spock?"

  "This planet is not inhabited by mankind, Captain."

  "You are jumping to conclusions. Radiation? Perhaps their civilization utilizes nuclear power."

  "None whatsoever, Captain. And had they-ever- there would be at least traces in the atmosphere."

  The captain's eyes went back to the viewing screen. He touched controls and swept over a larger area. The scene below changed little, though for the next fifteen minutes they scanned plains, lakes, rivers, mountains.

  "Are you suggesting," Kirk finally snapped at his first officer, "that the colony has been wiped out?"

  "I would not know, sir," Spock said simply. "But as you see, there are no signs below of destruction such as would necessarily result from wholesale devastation."