by James Blish
Stocker spoke. "I am anxious to get to Star Base Ten in order to assume my new post. I am sure you understand that, Captain."
"I will do what I can to see that you make your due date, Commodore."
"Thank you, Captain."
The men, pushing back their chairs, left the briefing room. But the dark-eyed Dr. Wallace didn't move. Kirk turned at the door. "Anything I can do for you, Doctor?"
"Yes," she said. "You might, for instance, say 'Hello, Janet'. You might be a little less the cold, efficient star-ship captain and a little more the old . . . friend."
"Janet, as captain, I have certain—my duties are heavy." Then he gave her a wry little smile. "Or maybe I just don't want to get burned again."
"I'm carrying a little scar tissue of my own," she said.
There was a small silence. Then he said, "How long has it been?"
"More than six years, Jim."
"A long time. But there wouldn't be any change if we started it up all over again, would there? I've got my ship; and you've got your work. Neither of us will change."
"You never asked why I married after we called it off."
"I supposed you'd found another man you loved."
"I found a man I admired."
"And in the same field as you. You didn't have to give up anything."
"No, I didn't. But he's dead now, Jim."
She went to him, her hands extended. Kirk hesitated. Then he took one of the hands, his eyes searching the warm brown ones—and Uhura's voice spoke on the intercom.
"Captain Kirk, Mr. Spock would like to see you on the bridge."
"Tell Mr. Spock I'm on my way." He was finding deeper depths in the brown eyes. "Janet, we're under pressure right now. Maybe, when it eases off, things will be—"
Uhura's voice interrupted again. "Captain Kirk, Mr. Scott would like to see you in Engineering."
"Tell him I'll be down after I check with Mr. Spock." He drew Janet closer to him. Lifting her chin, he said, "But this time there must be truth between us. You and I, with our eyes open, knowing what each of us are."
"It's been a long six years," she said; and placed her arms around his neck. He had bent his head to her mouth when the intercom spoke for the third time. "Captain Kirk!"
"On my way, Lieutenant Uhura." A sudden wave of weariness swept over him. He touched the girl's mouth with his forefinger. "Six long years—and that intercom is trying to make it six more. Dr. Wallace, your lips are as tempting as ever—but as I remarked, my duties are heavy."
The weariness stayed with him on his way to the bridge. Sulu greeted him with a "Standard orbit, Captain." He said, "Maintain" and crossed to Spock at the computer station.
"I have rechecked the sensors, sir. Gamma Hydra Four checks out as a Class M planet, nitrogen-oxygen atmosphere, normal mass with conventional atmospheric conditions. I can find nothing at all out of the ordinary."
"How about that comet that recently passed through here?"
"I am running checks on it, sir. As yet I have no conclusions. The comet is a rogue and has never been investigated."
"Captain Kirk!"
It was Stocker. He looked like a man with a determined idea. "Facilities at Star Base Ten," he said,"are much more complete than those on board ship. It seems to me your investigations would be facilitated by proceeding there at once. I assure you of every cooperation."
"Thank you, Commodore; but we have a few facilities of our own. I am going to Engineering, Mr. Spock." He left the computer station to say to Sulu, "Maintain standard orbit, Mr. Sulu."
Surprised, Sulu exclaimed, "But you already gave that order, sir!"
Kirk looked surprised himself. "Did I? Oh, well. Follow it."
As he left the bridge, Spock stared after him, a look of concern in his eyes.
Lieutenant Galway appeared uneasy, too, as she opened the door of Sickbay. "Dr. McCoy, can I speak with you a moment?"
"Of course." He motioned her to a chair but she didn't take it. "I know," she said, "that this is going to sound foolish. But—I seem to be having a little trouble hearing."
"Probably nothing important," McCoy said.
"I never had any trouble before."
"I'll have a look at you. Maybe a simple hypersonic treatment will clear it up." She said, "Thank you, Doctor" and followed him into the examination room.
Kirk was discovering some trouble of his own. Alone in his quarters, stripped to the waist, he dried the face he'd just shaved, and reached for the clean shirt he'd laid out on the bed. As he raised his right arm to insert it into a sleeve, a sharp stab of pain struck his right shoulder. He winced, lowered the arm, flexed it, massaging the shoulder muscle. The pain persisted. Slowly, carefully, he put on the shut. Then he moved to the intercom and flicked a button. "Progress report, Mr. Spock?"
"All research lines negative, Captain."
Kirk said, "Astronomical section reports that a comet recently passed by. Check into that."
Spock waited a moment before he replied, "I'm doing that, sir, according to your order. We discussed it earlier."
"Oh. Well, let me know what you come up with. I'll be in Sickbay."
"Yes, Captain."
The walk to Sickbay seemed longer than usual. The pain in the right shoulder had extended to the right knee. There was a slight trace of a limp in Kirk's movement as he entered Sickbay. In its bed section, all but one of the three beds was vacant. He thought, "So two of the rescued Johnson party are gone." It was a depressing reflection. Then he saw Nurse Chapel draw a blanket up and over the face of the patient who occupied the third bed.
McCoy looked up. "Robert Johnson, deceased. The last one, Jim. Cause of death—old age."
"You did what you could," Kirk said.
The intercom spoke. "Dr. McCoy? This is Scott. Can I come up and see you?"
McCoy answered shortly. "You just need vitamins. But yes, come up anyway, Scotty."
He punched off and Kirk said, "Bones, I believe you're getting gray!"
"You take over my job and see what it does to you!" Low-voiced, McCoy gave an order to Nurse Chapel. Then he turned back to Kirk. "Well, what's your problem?"
"My shoulder," Kirk said. "Got a little twinge in it Probably just a muscle strain."
"Probably, Dr. Kirk," McCoy snapped.
Kirk grinned. "Reprimand noted, sir. Okay, no more diagnoses by me."
McCoy ran his Feinberger over Kirk's shoulder. He frowned. "Hmmm. Maybe we'd better run a complete check on you."
"Well? Muscle strain?"
McCoy shook his head. "No, Jim. It's an advanced case of arthritis. And spreading."
"But that's not possible!"
"I'll run the check again, but I'll get the same answer."
He didn't run it again. For Kirk, his dismay still on his face was staring past him at the Sickbay door. McCoy turned. Scott stood there—a Scott with snow-white hair who appeared to be sixty years of age.
Sickbay on the Enterprise had become a section that seemed to have been appropriated by a Golden Age club. Assembled there on Kirk's order were every member of the crew who had contacted Gamma Hydra Four. With the single exception of Chekov, each one had been affected by the rapidly aging process. Kirk looked fifty-five: McCoy ten years older. Nor had Spock's Vulcan heritage been entirely able to immunize him against its effects. Wrinkles cracked his face; the skin under his eyes had gone baggy. Lieutenant Galway might have been a woman in her mid-sixties. Scott looked oldest of them all.
"All right, Bones," Kirk said. "Let's have it."
McCoy said, "All of us who went down to the planet, except Ensign Chekov, are aging rapidly. The rates vary from person to person, but it averages thirty years each day. I don't know what's causing it—virus, bacteria or evil spirits. I'm trying to find out."
"Spock? I asked you for some calculations."
"Based on what Dr. McCoy gave me, I'd say that we each have a week to live. It would also seem that since our mental faculties are aging faster than our bodies,
we will become little better than mental vegetables in less time than a week."
"You mean total senility?"
"Yes, Captain. In a very short time!"
Kirk took a step away from the group. "What a . . . a filthy way to die!" He turned slowly, accommodating his aching knee. "I want every research facility on this ship, every science technician, to immediately start round-the-clock research. I want the answer! And a remedy! And you might start in by telling me why Chekov wasn't affected!"
"I'm doing what I can," McCoy said. He removed his Feinberger diagnostic instrument from Spock. "You are disgustingly healthy, Spock."
"I must differ with you, Doctor. I am finding it difficult to concentrate. My eyesight appears to be failing. And the normal temperature of the ship strikes me as increasingly cold."
"I didn't say you were not affected."
Scott said dully, "Can I go back to my station?"
"Feel up it it, Scotty?" Kirk asked.
"Of course I do. Just need a little rest, that's all."
McCoy said, "You can leave too if you wish, Lieutenant Galway."
She didn't move. McCoy spoke louder. "Lieutenant Galway?"
"What? You spoke to me, Doctor?"
"Yes. I said you could go. Why not go to your quarters and get some sleep?"
"No! I don't want to sleep! Can't you understand? If I sleep . . . what will I find when I wake up?"
Kirk said, "Lieutenant Galway, report to your station and continue with your duties."
Her "Yes, sir" was grateful. She rose painfully from her chair, moved toward the door, and came face to face with herself in a mirror. She turned from it in anger.
"What a stupid place to hang a mirror!"
She half-stumbled out. Kirk looked after her. "She's seven or eight years younger than I am. She looks ten years older."
"People normally age at different speeds, Jim."
Kirk pointed to Chekov. "But why hasn't he aged?"
"I don't know."
"Well, I want to know! Is it his youth? His blood type? His glands? His medical history? His genes?"
"Nurse Chapel, prepare Mr. Chekov for a complete physical."
She rose. "Come along, Ensign. This won't hurt. Much."
As the door closed behind the nurse and the reluctant Chekov, Janet Wallace turned to McCoy. "A few years ago on Aldebaran Three, my husband and I used a variation of cholesterol block to slow arteriosclerosis in animals."
"Did it work?"
"Sometimes. But the side effects were fierce. We gave it up."
"Try it anyhow, Dr. Wallace. Try anything, but do it quickly!"
"Yes, sir." She went out in turn.
"Mr. Spock, return to the bridge," Kirk said. "I'll join you shortly. Keep me posted on Chekov, Bones."
He found Janet Wallace waiting for him in the corridor. "I thought you were on your way to the biochemistry lab, Doctor."
"We both go in the same direction, Jim."
After a moment, he nodded. "So we do."
She adjusted her pace to his slower walk. "We know the problem," she said. "We know the effects it is having. And we know the progress of the affliction. Therefore, once we find the proper line of research, it's only logical that we find the. solution."
Kirk smiled. "You sound like my First Officer."
"No problem, Jim—not even ours—is insoluble."
"I could name you five insoluble problems right off the top of my head. For example, why was the universe created? How can we trust what we think we know? Is there such a thing as an invariably right or wrong action? What is the nature of beauty? What is the proof of Fermat's last theorem? None of those are soluble by logic."
"No. The heart is not a logical organ. Our . . . situation . . . doesn't have its roots in logic." She put her arm through his. "When I married Theodore Wallace, I thought I was over you. I was wrong."
Kirk gave her a sharp look. "When did you realize this? Today?"
"What?"
"How much older was your husband than you?"
"What difference does it make?" she asked.
"Answer me!"
"Twenty-six years," she told him reluctantly. Then, as though he'd demanded an explanation, she added, "He was a brilliant man . . . we were stationed on a lonely outpost . . . working together—" She broke off to cry, "Jim, I don't want to talk about him! I want to talk about us!"
"Look at me!" Kirk demanded. He seized her shoulders. "I said look at me! What do you see?"
"I—I see Captain James Kirk," she said unsteadily. "A man of morality, decency—strong, handsome—"
"And old!" he cried. "Old—and getting older every minute!"
"Jim, please . . ."
"What are you offering me, Jan? Love—or a goodbye present?"
"That's very cruel," she said.
"It's honest!" His voice was harsh with bitterness. "Just stay around for two more days, Janet! By that time I'll really be old enough for your love!"
Young Chekov was feeling the strain of multiple medical examinations. "Give us some more blood, Chekov!" he muttered to Sulu. "The needle won't hurt, Chekov! Take off your shut, Chekov! Roll over, Chekov! Breathe deeply, Chekov! Blood sample! Marrow sample! Skin sample! They take so many samples of me I'm not even sure I'm here!"
"You'll live," Sulu said.
"Oh yes, I'll live . . . but I won't enjoy—"
Kirk entered the bridge and he fell, silent. Sulu said, "Maintaining standard orbit, Captain."
"Increase orbit to twenty thousand perigee."
As Kirk moved to his command chair, Yeoman Doris Atkins handed him a clipboard. "Will you sign this, sir?" He glanced at the board, scribbled his name on it and was handing it back to her when Commodore Stocker approached him.
"I hope to have a few words with you, Captain."
"I have very little time, Commodore."
"Very well, sir. I just want to remind you we have a due date at Star Base Ten."
"I'm afraid we'll be late for it, Commodore Stocker. I do not intend to leave this area until we have found a solution to our problem."
"Captain, I am watching four very valuable, and one almost irreplaceable, members of the Starfleet failing before my eyes. I want to do something to help."
"If you are so concerned," Kirk said, "I'll send a sub-space message to Star Base Ten and explain the situation."
At his computer station, Spock shook his head. Kirk noticed the gesture. "Yes, Mr. Spock?"
"Captain . . . you sent such a message this morning."
"Oh. Yes, of course." He changed the subject. "Yeoman Atkins."
"Sir?"
"Where's the report on fuel consumption?"
"You just signed it, sir."
"If I'd signed it, I wouldn't have asked for it! Give it to me!"
The girl timidly handed him the board. There was his signature. Angrily, he handed the board back to her and sank down in his command chair. He saw Chekov and Sulu exchange looks. Uhura's back was resolutely turned.
Kirk closed his eyes. I need rest. You can take just so much. Then you've had it. He was helpless; that was the fact. And he had never been so tired before in all his life . . . worry, despair . . . they weren't going to change a thing . . . tired . . . tired . . .
As from a great distance, he heard Spock's voice. "Captain! I believe I know the cause! I decided to—" The voice stopped, and Kirk let his mind drift again; but then he was being shaken. "Captain!" He roused himself with immense effort.
"Hmm? Spock? Sorry . . . I was thinking."
"Understandable, sir."
"Um. Do you have something to report, Mr. Spock?"
"Yes, sir. I think I know the cause of the affliction. I cannot be sure, but the lead I have seems very promising."
Alert now, Kirk said, "What is it?"
"The comet," Spock said. "The orbit of Gamma Hydra Four carried it directly through the comet's tail. I examined the residue on conventional radiation setting and discovered nothing. But when I reset
our sensors at the extreme lower range of the scale, undetected radiation appeared. Below normal radiation readings . . . but definitely present. And undoubtedly residue from the comet's tail."
"Good, Mr. Spock. Let's get that to Dr. McCoy immediately."
Pain stabbed in bis right knee as he rose. He massaged it and limped over to Uhura. "Lieutenant, take a message to Starfleet Command."
"Yes, sir."
"Because of the proximity of the Romulans, use Code Two."
"But, sir, the Romulans have broken Code Two. If you will remember the last bulletin—"
"Then use Code Three!"
"Yes, sir. Code Three."
"Message. Key to affliction may be in comet which passed Gamma Hydra Four. Said comet is now—" He looked at Spock.
"Quadrant four four eight, sir."
"I suggest all units be alerted for complete analysis of radiation; and means found to neutralize it. The comet is highly dangerous. Kirk, commanding Enterprise. Send it at once, Lieutenant Uhura. Let's go, Mr. Spock."
At the elevator he paused. "Mr. Sulu, increase orbit to twenty thousand miles perigee."
Startled, Sulu said, "You mean—another twenty thousand, Captain?"
Kirk whipped around, grim-faced. "I find it difficult to understand why every one of my commands is being questioned. Do what you're told, Mr. Sulu."
Spock spoke quietly. "What is our present position, Mr. Sulu?"
"Orbiting at twenty thousand, sir."
Kirk looked at Spock's impassive face. Then he said, "Maintain, Mr. Sulu."
"Maintaining, sir."
The silence of constraint was heavy in the bridge when the elevator door closed behind them.
But in Sickbay, hope had returned.
"Radiation," McCoy said reflectively. "As good an answer as any. But why didn't we know this earlier?"
"I suspect, Doctor, because my thinking processes are less clear and rapid than they were."
McCoy glanced at Spock. Then he handed his tape cartridge to Janet Wallace. "Run this through, please, Doctor."
"All right," Kirk said. "Keep me posted. I'll be on the bridge. Coming, Spock?"
"I have a question for the Doctor, Captain."