by Uhura's Song
"Within the hour, I should estimate. I wish to make one final check." Spock held him with a glance.
"What is it, Spock?" he asked in a low tone.
"In my report to Starfleet, I did, to the best of my ability, emphasize the unreliable nature of our data. Our orders, however- from both Starfleet and the Council-seem remarkably optimistic."
Jim Kirk shook his head. "Quite the contrary, Mr. Spock. I'd say our orders mean the situation is much worse than we know."
"Ah," said Spock, lifting an eyebrow. "You think they, too, are grasping at straws."
"That's exactly what I think."
Spock returned to his calculations without further comment. Kirk raised his voice. "Lieutenant Uhura, will you ask Dr. Wilson to meet me in the briefing room on the double? Mr. Chekov, Mr. Spock is not to be disturbed for less than an impending nova -"
Spock, visibly startled, said, "That is hardly possible in this system, Captain."
"A manner of emphasis, Mr. Spock."
"Of course, Captain," said Spock.
Jim Kirk was sure for once that Spock had told a social lie. He said with a grin, "You understand me, Mr. Chekov."
"Aye, sair," said Chekov, grinning back.
"Let me know as soon as you've finished, Spock."
"Lieutenant Uhura will inform you, sir."
Evan Wilson heard him through without interruption. When he had finished, she gave him a long, speculative look that made him acutely conscious of the fact that he had been grinning since he'd received the go-ahead from Starfleet. He added, "Perhaps you should put the whole crew on tranquilizers, Doctor. We're looking for a planet on the strength of a song. It's crazy, I know, but it's the only chance we have to do something useful."
The admission was not simply sobering, it was disheartening but before the full force of it struck him, Evan Wilson said gravely, "I think you're as crazy as Heinrich Schliemann- and you know what happened to him!"
"What?" he said, disconcerted.
"You don't know what happened to him?" she asked, her blue eyes widening in mild astonishment. "Ever read Homer's Iliad, Captain?"
Taken aback by the seeming irrelevancy, Jim Kirk frowned slightly; but there was something in the intensity of her gaze that reminded him of Spock about to offer an observation. I'll bite, he thought, if only to find out who this is I'm as crazy as. He said, "I don't know what translation you read, Doctor, but there was no Heinrich Schliemann in mine- or in the Odyssey."
"That depends on how you look at it." Smiling, she settled back into her chair and went on, "Heinrich Schliemann was from Earth, pre-Federation days, and he read Homer too. No, not just read him, believed him. So he set out at his own expense- mind you, I doubt he could have found anyone else to fund such a crazy endeavor- to find Troy, a city that most of the educated people of his time considered pure invention on Homer's part."
"And?"
"And he found it. Next time you're on Earth, stop by the Troy Museum. The artifacts are magnificent, and every one of them was found on the strength of a song."
While Kirk absorbed that, she rose and added, "If you have no objection, I'll give Mr. Sulu a hand down to the bridge. Broken ankle or no, he can still compute a course."
Feeling too good to resist the temptation, he said, "Is that medically advisable, Doctor?"
"Oh, yes!" She gave him that wicked smile again. "It's the best thing in the world for my health- he'd never forgive me if he missed this!"
Jim Kirk could feel the excitement on all sides. "Ready, Mr. Spock?"
"One moment, Captain." Spock watched the display screen; of all the bridge personnel, only he seemed unaffected by the charged atmosphere. "The data transfer is not yet complete."
Lieutenant Uhura turned in her seat. "What's taking so long, Mr. Spock?" she asked.
Spock straightened. "I assure you, Lieutenant, that your feeling of delay is just that- a feeling."
"I'm sorry, Mr. Spock." She said it with such a complete lack of expression that Kirk wondered for a moment if she'd suddenly turned Vulcan.
"As we agreed," Spock responded, "there is no apology necessary."
Uhura smiled, suddenly and brilliantly. "As we agreed, Mr. Spock," she said.
"Data transfer complete, Captain," said Spock. "The navigational computer now has the coordinates." The announcement was completely unnecessary- Sulu's burst of activity was sufficient evidence of the fact.
"Mr. Scott, stand by for warp three. Ready when you are, Mr. Sulu," said Kirk.
Sulu did not take the time from his calculations to acknowledge. Seconds later, Sulu said, "Course laid in, Captain."
"Then what are we waiting for, Mr. Sulu?"
"Aye, aye, Captain." Sulu grinned and touched his controls. "We're on our way."
Chapter Four
Leonard McCoy gulped a last mouthful of the tasteless stuff the Eeiauoans called food, followed it with a handful of vitamins and washed the whole mess down with a slug of coffee. For the fourth or fifth time that day, he considered prescribing a stimulant shot for himself. What little time he could snatch for sleep was being torn from him in nightmares that only repeated the horrors of his waking hours. Once again, he rejected the idea. Stimulants had a way of disrupting mental processes, and that was one thing he could ill afford.
What he needed most, he thought, was someone to talk to. With Jim and Scotty and- he hated to admit it- Spock chasing all over the galaxy after wild geese, he had no one to check his figures, or to cheer him along on his own wild goose chase.
He settled for a shot of scotch. The bottle had been a parting gift from Evan Wilson, a happy result of all his complaints about the Eeiauoans' dislike of alcohol in any form.
Then he returned to the computers and examined his results for the third time. He had built on the work Evan and Christine had done, following up the apparent immunity of Snnanagfashtalli's people.
He had found something, but what, he was not sure. At best, it was a palliative, not a cure. At worst...
He had to be sure before he went on that it would do no harm to the victims of ADF syndrome. As the Eeiauoan doctors had predicted, the Eeiauoan victims of the disease still lived- as long as they were massively supported by intravenous feeding and all the rest that Federation personnel and equipment could supply. The deaths in previous outbreaks of the plague had all occurred when the victims finally outnumbered those who could care for them.
Humans were another story: two of the earliest known cases had already died, others were sure to follow. That was the last information he had been able to transmit to Evan Wilson before the Enterprise had passed out of range of a Federation relay beacon.
He thought of Christine Chapel and the risks she faced, and he knew he had to go ahead. She could not wait for surety. He took a deep breath and placed a call to Dr. Mickiewicz aboard the Flinn. It took the ship's communications officer a moment to locate her. When she appeared, she was alone in her office.
"Hi, Micky," he said. "Good god, you look terrible!"
"Your bedside manner's shot to hell, Leonard, and you're no raving beauty yourself. You look like you haven't slept in a month.... Chapel's still holding." She shook her head heavily. "Hell," she said, and that was all.
They looked at each other for a long while. Then she said, "I'm glad you called, though. I could use somebody to talk to, just for a minute." She smiled wanly and added, "What's the latest update on coronary infarction?"
McCoy smiled back. "You still don't get it from a sword blade," he said immediately. It was an old joke between two schoolmates, and it made him feel infinitely better.
"Thanks," she said, "I needed that." Her smile this time seemed genuine.
McCoy said, "I've got something for you." At the sudden sharpening of her expression, he added hastily, "Now don't, dammit, don't get all worked up until you hear me out."
He laid it all out, transmitted the data for her to check and waited. She looked through it all. Finally she looked up. "It might wor
k, Leonard."
"It might not."
"I see that, but if it does work we could slow the progress of the disease in humans. And anything that gives us time...!"
"The ethics-" McCoy cut himself short at the expression on her face. She knew every argument he'd had with himself; she knew what he'd given her was a long shot.
"Leonard," she said, very quietly, "I have a volunteer for your treatment: one who can give informed consent."
"Who...?" As he looked at her, he suddenly knew who she meant. "You, Micky?" He could not keep the anger out of his voice. "Goddammit, woman... !"
"Watch your goddamn mouth, McCoy!" she shot back.
He was so surprised at her anger that he snapped his mouth shut. She glared at him.
"See here, Micky," he began again, "trying something like this on a terminal patient is one thing -" He broke off in horror.
She nodded. Her voice was very soft, and now he could see the fear in her eyes. "I am a terminal patient, Leonard. I have ADF syndrome; I confirmed the diagnosis myself a few minutes ago. You've just given me the only chance I have. I thank you for it- however it turns out."
"Micky..."
She shook herself and gave him a fierce smile. "Now bug off, will you? We've both got a lot of work to do today. I'll keep you posted." She gave him no chance to say goodbye.
He was glad for that. He had no wish to say anything that sounded so final.
Captain's Log, Stardate 1573.4:
Mr. Spock's coordinates have brought us to an area of space uncharted by the Federation. Mr. Spock and the entire Astronomy Division are making a brief but exhaustive survey for solar systems that fit the necessary parameters.
Personal Log, James T. Kirk, Stardate 1573.4:
Three weeks to reach Spock's haystack and another spent sitting here in the middle of nowhere while Astronomy takes pictures....
Every time I think this is impossible, I think of Heinrich Schliemann. I'm not the only one. Like Starfleet Command, the crew has been told only that we're following certain leads Spock has found in Eeiauoan literature, and Dr. Wilson has been dispensing her prescription with a liberal hand. "Heinrich Schliemann" has become a catch phrase all over the Enterprise. I've heard it in a dozen different contexts in the past few days. Spock even found it deserving of comment- "baffling."
"Ah, Captain," said Spock, as he stepped into the turbolift to find Jim Kirk already there. "I believe we now have sufficient information to begin a closer scrutiny."
"Good, Mr. Spock. Very good." Having spent so much time twiddling his thumbs, Kirk was not about to waste another moment. He activated the intercom and said, "Lieutenant Uhura, please have all senior personnel meet me in the briefing room immediately." As an afterthought, he added, "Mr. Spock is ready."
"Thank you, sir," said Uhura's voice. He could hear the relief in it. "Uhura out."
"Kirk out." He turned again to Spock. "Just what are our chances of finding Sivao?"
"They depend largely upon Lieutenant Uhura, as she is the only one of us with any knowledge of the world we seek."
"Well, she's gotten us this far. Let's hope she can keep it up."
Spock nodded once but said nothing further. Jim Kirk knew better than to press him on the subject. At most, he'd get an estimate of the odds against them, and he was not sure he wanted one.
The turbolift doors hissed, momentarily framing Evan Wilson in the opening. Spock raised an eyebrow at the picture she presented; Kirk said, "Good Lord!"
She wore heavily padded fencing garb that had been slashed in several places as if by enormous claws. Sweat shone on her forehead, her hair was in total disarray, she was openly bleeding from two parallel cuts across her left cheek- and she was grinning from ear to ear.
She stepped into the lift, carrying a wooden staff a few inches taller than she was high, and saluted triumphantly. "Mr. Spock, Captain," she said. "Do I have five minutes to clean up, or can the briefing room take it?"
"You have five minutes, Dr. Wilson. I won't have my ship's doctor running around looking like..." Kirk found himself hard put to say what she did look like.
"Like something the cat dragged in?" she suggested. "I'll have you know, Captain, Snnanagfashtalli looks like something the doc dragged in."
"Are we to understand, Dr. Wilson, that you have been engaged in combat with Snnanagfashtalli?" Spock had no trouble with the name; the Vulcan language had more than its share of throat-twisting sounds.
"It was something of an experiment, Mr. Spock. Quarterstaff against teeth and claws. The results were inconclusive. I think I gave as good as I got, but then, Snnanagfashtalli kept her temper, so I'm not sure if she was pulling her pounces. I may just have been pummeled like a kitten." She daubed at her cheek ruefully.
Spock contemplated her weapon and, without a word, she handed it to him. He lifted it, testing the weight. "I have never seen one used."
"Pick your time, Mr. Spock, and I'll be happy to further your education. The quarterstaff is one of the finest weapons ever invented." She took the staff back and smiled. "It might be interesting to try it against the Vulcan disciplines. But that's a separate offer and I wouldn't push you into anything."
The turbolift doors opened. "My stop," she said. She stepped out and saluted, "Heinrich Schliemann, Captain." The doors closed and the turbolift shifted sideways.
"Remarkable..." Spock began.
"I'll say," Kirk agreed, but the Vulcan's expression seemed to call for further comment. "Something wrong, Spock?"
"Wrong, Captain? No, I should say rather 'anomalous'."
"Anomalous? In what way?"
"In both her presence and her behavior."
"I wouldn't worry about it, Spock- her presence, at least. Unless you want to wonder who she knows. She told Bones she cut her own orders and I'm inclined to believe she could. Dr. Wilson is most certainly not shy."
The turbolift came to a halt. As they walked down the corridor to the briefing room, Kirk went on, "You know Snnanagfashtalli, Spock"- the name got easier with practice- "do you suppose she pulled her punches?"
"Doubtful, Captain. If Dr. Wilson wished to test her abilities, it would do neither of them honor for Snnanagfashtalli to do less than her best. However, as Dr. Wilson herself seems quite aware, her best need not and did not include a killing frenzy."
"Let's be thankful for small favors," Kirk said. "Going to take her up on her challenge, Spock?"
"I shall consider it, Captain."
Kirk was taken aback. "I was joking, Spock!"
"I was not."
They entered the briefing room to find Scott and Uhura waiting.
"Lieutenant Uhura," said Spock, without preamble, "I shall require your assistance." He gestured her to the computers.
After a moment of preparation, he said, "We have found twelve planetary systems that meet our general specifications. On the assumption that the Eeiauoans would have chosen a world as similar in type and position to their home world as possible, I have narrowed this to three. I have prepared computer simulations of skies of those three worlds. Logic can do no more."
The day's full of surprises, thought Kirk. Bones would have a field day with that.
He got still another surprise when he looked over Uhura's shoulder at the display screens. The starfields were reversed- white stars on black backgrounds- certainly not standard issue from the Astronomy Division.
He wasn't sure exactly what Spock expected of Uhura, but he kept quiet while she did whatever it was.
When Sulu hobbled in with Chekov's support, the Russian chattering excitedly, Kirk silenced them with a glance. Dr. Wilson entered a few moments later, damp and still triumphant. From the look of awe given her by Sulu and Chekov, Kirk could guess the content of the conversation he'd interrupted.
She grinned at them and settled herself silently to watch the screens, craning forward. Her absorption was complete and encompassed not only the display but Spock and Uhura as well.
At last, Uhura shook he
r head. "I can't help, Mr. Spock. I'm sorry." From her tone of dismay, she was more than sorry.
Wilson touched her hand lightly to Uhura's arm. "I seem to be missing something, Nyota. What are you up to?" Her eyes held a child's grave and intense curiosity, and they drew from Uhura a small, almost embarrassed, smile in return. "Mr. Spock hoped I would have a hunch," Uhura said.
"Oh." Wilson managed to pack the single monosyllable with both comprehension and exasperation. With a comic shrug of her shoulders, she said, "That's not how hunches work, Mr. Spock. Captain, I appeal to you! Explain to him!"
