from her wrist, and he made sure that he was the first to reach it.
Sarek was on her heels, and McCoy decided to save explanations until
after everyone was unconscious on the floor.
"I'm sorry, my dear," he said. "You shouldn't believe everything
people think."
"Dammit!" Kirk struck the top of the console with his fist, making
Tomson jump. "What are we doing just sitting here? Waiting for Spock
to come back and rescue us?"
"Do you think he'll make it, sir?" Tomson asked miserably. Until a
moment ago, the two of them had sat in unconscious imitation of each
other, slumped over, their cheeks resting on their fists in a gesture
of despair.
It hadn't worked with Sulu and Uhura. Thirty hours after their
incarceration, they were still fighting each other to the point that
Kirk risked opening the door to stun them both, just to keep them from
tearing each other apart. For the moment, the two were quiet, but the
effects of the phaser blast would no doubt wear off soon. It had not
been easy for Kirk to accept the fact that he would not have his bridge
crew back. He was alone, except for Tomson--and at the moment, he
could not see the advantage of her presence.
"He'll make it," Kirk said with so much conviction that he almost
convinced himself. "But do you want to sit here in auxiliary control
hoping Scotty doesn't find a way in here before Spock gets back? God
knows how long that might be."
"Not particularly, sir." Tomson seemed unenthusiastic at the prospect.
"Did you have a suggestion?"
"I know where Spock put the device that's causing the engines to
stall," said Kirk. "I can disengage it so we can have some power."
"But what's the point, sir? I thought Spock put it there so we can't
contaminate anyone else. Isn't it a little risky, running around the
galaxy with a shipful of-- "
"With the transporters and communications out, what kind of threat are
we? Besides, there are ways to seal off certain decks."
She glumly leaned her chin on her fist again. "And how do we convince
a shipload of berserk crewmen to go to certain decks? Anyway, we've
seen how they treat each other in close quarters. They'd kill each
other."
"They're killing each other now," Kirk reminded her grimly. "Dammit,
Lieutenant, are you going to contradict me at each turn or are you
going to help me find a way to do something? If you want to spend your
final days moping around auxiliary control, that's up to you. With or
without you, I am going to find a way to help Spock."
Her pale, horsey face turned pink for a moment, and then, surprisingly,
broke into an infectious smile. "Say the word, Captain."
Kirk grinned back. For a moment, he almost liked her.
"Welcome back, Spock."
The Vulcan's eyes slowly focused on McCoy as he sat up. "Where am
I?"
"The academy," McCoy said. "Not too fast. I daresay you might find
you still have a bit of a headache."
Spock reached a hand to his forehead in verification of McCoy's
statement and blinked. "I was .. . home.. .."
"Not anymore. I brought you back."
The Vulcan started. "Sarek--"
"He's here. I've got him set up in an isolation chamber. I've already
run a few tests."
Spock sighed and swung his legs off the examination table. He began
to stand.
"Take it easy." McCoy reached for the Vulcan's arm to support it, but
Spock pulled it away.
He straightened his tunic. "I am quite all right, Doctor."
"Considering you damn near died of a skull fracture."
"As a result of my own clumsiness," Spock said ruefully. "I appreciate
the fact that you and Dr. Lanter intervened on my behalf." He looked
around the lab.
"She's in the isolation chamber," McCoy said quietly.
he had just said. For a moment, McCoy thought that Spock's legs would
buckle, but the Vulcan did not sit, although he permitted himself to
grasp the edge of the exam table with one hand.
"She wanted to confront Sarek herself," McCoy said. "I should never
have let her go."
There was a long silence. "I am sure that there was nothing you could
have done, Doctor. If you had gone with her, you would no doubt be
affected as well. It is far better for both of us that you did not."
"I would like to believe that," McCoy said bitterly.
Spock stood straight once again, without the support of the table.
"Then you brought the three of us here," he said, looking at McCoy with
a curious expression.
"In a stolen skimmer. Believe me, it was no easy task, what with you
coming to from time to time and commenting on my driving skills--"
Spock frowned. "I have no memory of doing so."
"People block out what they want to forget," Me Coy said, trying to
lighten things. "Let me tell you, it took me three trips to get all of
you down here. It's a good thing this place is deserted these days."
He rubbed his back. "I think I pulled a muscle."
"I am impressed, Dr. McCoy," Spock said quite sincerely.
"You ought to be, I think I've more than made up for the trouble I've
caused."
"Most assuredly." Spock could not keep his eyes off the isolation
chambers; finally, he walked stiffly to the other end of the lab. In
one chamber, Anitra sat strapped in a chair, her head against the rest,
her hair tangled and streaming down her shoulders. She was breathing
deeply, her lips slightly parted. Sarek sat in the other chamber,
regal even in repose. They looked very much as if they had never
changed.
McCoy walked up and stood behind Spock. "I've got them both sedated. I
had to keep them from coming to on the ride back."
"Of course," the Vulcan said distractedly. "It would be most.. .
disconcerting if they were conscious." His eyes were fastened on
Anitra's features, and for an instant his expression became so
melancholic that McCoy decided he must have imagined it. Spock
straightened his shoulders. "You said you had conducted some tests,
Doctor?"
"Just a routine physical exam." McCoy glanced at the monitor above
Anitra's head admiringly. "You were right about this place,
Spock--what I wouldn't give for one like this back on the Enterprise."
His tone
became more sober. "General functions of all organs --normal--with
one exception."
"Which is?"
"The neurotransmitters in the brain seem to have been altered slightly.
I'll have to do some more testing before I can say exactly how."
Spock nodded. "It makes sense." He had been looking at Anitra the
entire time, but now he turned to face McCoy. "You needed to bring
only one subject back, Doctor. Anitra would have been the logical
choice, since she is the most use to us. Yet you brought Sarek as well
at great personal risk."
McCoy squirmed, uncomfortable himself with the real reason he could not
leave Sarek behind. Not that he hadn't considered it, but after
remembering what Anitra had
told him, he had found it impossible. He
cleared his throat. "It's a moot point, isn't it, Spock? I mean,
Sarek is already here and there's no time to waste. The logical thing
to do is to start testing."
"Why, Dr. McCoy," Spock said approvingly. "How eminently practical of
you. Perhaps your stay on Vulcan has sharpened your capacity for
logic."
"I sure as hell hope not," McCoy said under his breath.
McCoy had been napping, in spite of himself, on the exam table where he
had performed surgery on Spock a few hours before. Something roused
him from a heavy sleep--noise or light or a dream ending--and he pulled
Spock sat at the console facing the chambers. He
was frowning at the readout on the terminal in front of him. McCoy
stumbled over, rubbing his eyes. "Anything new?"
The Vulcan swiveled the screen so that McCoy could read it. "An
analysis of their blood chemistry. You were correct in noting it had
changed. Certain elements that make up the neurotransmitters have
indeed changed--their atomic weight is heavier, as though other
particles had bonded with them to form isotopes."
McCoy sat down next to him. "And the neurotransmitters control the
brain."
"Apparently, Dr. Lanter was correct in postulating that our demons
exist on the subatomic level." Spock pulled the screen toward him
again. "They chemically bond with the neurotransmitters of the host
and thus control the host's actions."
"But neurotransmitters are stable compounds--you can't bond anything
with them. And how in the hell can a subatomic particle think, let
alone control someone's actions?"
Spock was unmoved by McCoy's vehemence. "You mentioned moot questions
earlier, Doctor. The fact already exists--they have done so. And not
only can these particles bond with the chemicals that control conscious
actions, they also control the autonomic processes as well--pulse,
breathing, digestion.. .."
"That explains your mother seeming to be dead," McCoy said. "So how do
we reverse this bonding process?"
Spock sighed. "There is no guarantee that it can be reversed. One way
might be to find a compound which
the particles prefer to bond with over neurotransmitters. In that
case, our next step would be to test potential compounds."
"That could take forever. Isn't there any other way that the chemical
bond could be broken?"
Spock hesitated. "Yes .. . there are ways, as you know, to split
atoms. Such methods would, indeed, destroy the bond, and quite
possibly the particles themselves." He looked directly into McCoy's
bleary eyes. "They would also destroy the host. I would prefer to
avoid that, but it might not be possible. If Dr. Lanter were able to
help us ..."
"The two of us can do it, Spock. With your brains--"
"Time is of the essence in our situation," Spock interrupted him. "And
Dr. Lanter is a specialist in the area of particle physics. That is
why Star Fleet assigned her to this. I have no doubt that she would
have been able to help us find the solution far more rapidly."
"Another moot point," said McCoy. "Let's do the best we can without
her. I'll get started testing compounds right away."
But before he could do anything, the monitor above Sarek's head beeped.
McCoy hunched over the matching monitor on the console.
"What is it, Doctor?"
"I don't understand. I didn't give him that strong of a dose."
"Doctor," Spock said with a sharp note of exasperation.
"His life functions. They're growing weaker. Pulse
and breathing, brain activity--all are slowing, as if he were slipping
into a coma."
Spock leaned over and read the monitor for himself. "Check Anitra's
readings."
"She's all right," McCoy said. "Normal. But you'd better look at
this, Spock. Sarek's brain chemistry is going haywire--the
neurotransmitters are taking on a positive charge." He looked up at
the Vulcan. "We've got to find a way to stop this soon."
"Or Sarek will die," Spock said softly.
Chapter Thirteen
McCoy rose from the console, stretched, and checked Sarek's monitor.
The Vulcan was steadily growing weaker--it was a matter of a few hours
now, if that. He turned to Spock, who was absorbed by the spectral
analysis of 1-methodiobromidase.
"Any closer?"
Spock grunted assent. "This particular compound looks promising. It
might quite possibly work."
"Great! Let's try it on a tissue sample."
Spock looked up from his terminal. "There is, however, one
drawback."
McCoy looked at him questioningly.
"It is quite lethal to both humans and Vulcans."
"For God's sake, Spock, why didn't you say so? Then it's of no use to
us." He bent over and routinely checked Anitra's monitor .. . and
looked a second time.
"A metabolic slowdown," Spock said. It was not a question.
McCoy nodded, crushed. "She's a few hours behind Sarek." He turned to
Spock. "We'd better start working on finding a non deadly
derivative."
"There is an alternative," Spock said slowly, steepling his hands. He
began to intently study a distant point on the wall. "It will take an
indefinite amount of time to find a safe derivative--days .. . perhaps
weeks. Sarek and Anitra do not have that long." He took a breath and
squared his shoulders. "I suggest we try the compound in its present
form on Sarek."
"You'd poison your own father?!" McCoy was outraged. "What if we find
the derivative an hour from now? Why are you in such a hurry?"
"Sarek doesn't have an hour." Spock's tone was even. "Or did you
think that I didn't notice when you were checking the monitor?"
"You'd just as soon get it over with? Poison him now, is that it?"
Spock's voice deepened as he spoke through not quite-clenched teeth.
"He is going to die, Doctor. At least permit me to give his death some
meaning."
McCoy closed his eyes. "Look .. . I'm sorry, Spock. I know this must
be hard for you. But this can't be the solution. What will we do,
spray Vulcan with poisonous gas? AH of Vulcan? And what about your
mother, and Jim, and everyone else on board the Enterprise? Are we
going to let these damn particles win?"
"And if we cannot find a nonpoisonous derivative," Spock said, "are
you, Doctor, willing to let them spread?"
"Glad you made it, sir," Tomson said most sincerely. The small filter
she wore over her nose and mouth muffled her voice so that Kirk could
scarcely recognize it.
He touched a hand to his face to make sure his own filter was in
place; through the thick streams of gas, he could barely make out
Tomson's form on the bridge. She'd already dragged the personnel from
their posts, and they lay in an unceremonious heap by the turbolift.
"No more than I am," Kirk said. He held up the drifting device so that
she could see it. "This is what caused all the trouble."
She leaned forward and squinted, trying
to see. "It's hard to believe
something that small... How soon will the engines be warmed up,
Captain?"
"Thirty minutes. That ought to give us enough time, if we hustle." He
turned toward the pile of sedated bodies and started pulling one into
the still-open lift. "What about the other levels?"
Tomson made it over to Spock's station in two strides and snapped on
the viewer. "Verified that all of C deck has been flooded. You
shouldn't have any trouble, sir."
"Ready to flood D deck, corridors eight through eleven, F deck near
auxiliary control. I'll give you the signal from the lift when I'm
finished on C deck." He stopped what he was doing for an instant, and
although she could not see his mouth behind the filter, she knew from
his eyes that he beamed at her; she smiled back beneath her mask. "Good
work, Lieutenant. It's not every security chief who can learn to do
the work of an engineer so quickly."
Tomson blushed. "Engineering was my second choice, sir." She
hesitated. "Are you sure I can't go with you?"
"Someone has to be on the bridge, Lieutenant. I want the turbolift