Mission to Horatius

by Mack Reynolds

  Behind them a voice screamed, "Don't touch anything!"

  All spun around.

  Nummer Ein stood there, his eyes glaring madness. In his hand was one of the phasers he had appropriated from the captain and his group.

  Spock said mildly, "I might point out that the weapon you hold is mine. While it was being taken from me, I shifted its selection lever to overload. I do not recommend that you press the trigger, Nummer Ein."

  The robot-like computer voice of the Enterprise came through the communicator held in Kirk's hand. "The red lever will wipe the matrixes of every duplicated human being on the planet Bavarya."

  "Don't touch..." Nummer Ein began to shrill, and even as he did he moved his gun hand in a spraying motion and depressed the trigger.

  He and that part of the room, including a sizable portion of the wall and elevator banks, blew up in a thunderous explosion. Unbelievably, none of the Enterprise contingent was harmed. Gathered around Scott before the control desk, they had been far enough off to be safe.

  Spock's eyebrows went up. As he stared at the body of Nummer Ein sprawled on the floor he said, "It would seem that he doubted my word."

  Kirk said to his senior engineer, "All right, Scotty. Throw the lever and let's see what we get"

  The engineer pushed it forward. Nothing seemed to have happened.

  But Janice Rand gasped, "Look!" and pointed.

  The fallen body of Nummer Ein had disappeared.

  Kirk held his communicator to his mouth. "Kirk to the Enterprise."

  "Yes, Captain. Sulu here."

  "Is the ship still under fire?"

  "Not at the moment, Captain."

  Kirk looked at Anna. "Are the phasers that have been bombarding the ship operated by Herr-Elite or Doppelgängers?"

  " Doppelgängers, with the exception of a few Herr-Elite higher officers."

  "Can the officers operate the equipment without the aid of the men?"

  "I... I wouldn't think so."

  Kirk said into the communicator, "Take a chance, Mr. Sulu. Drop the defensive screens long enough to bring us up. Notify the transporter room."

  "Aye, aye, sir."

  Kirk turned to Anna Shickle. "We'll leave now. There is nothing more for us to do. I would suggest you destroy this room and its contents with this phaser I'll leave you. Without the room, you and the others of the Herr-Elite will have no Doppelgängers to do your work and to maintain your military machine. That will mean you will have to buckle down for yourselves to a new way of life. Let us hope that in the future, when Bavaryans reach out into space again toward neighboring planets, they will go in peace and with a real desire to help the others in their march to a higher state of civilization."

  Anna nodded. "I have friends, of course. We have an underground organization which was directed against Bavarya's present policies. Not all of the Herr-Elite believed in Nummer Ein's teachings." She looked at Grang. "Someday we may meet again, young man from Neolithia. I suspect that when you return you will no longer be satisfied with stone weapons and skins to wear; you will be a spark that starts your people to resume the march of progress."

  Grang said stiffly, "I am not sure. We of the Wolves arc a proud clan." However, he looked at Kirk, then Scott, and suddenly grinned. "Nevertheless, I begin to suspect that iron makes a better blade than flint. Perhaps there are a few changes which might be made on Neolithia."

  9. MICKEY AGAIN

  Captain James Kirk was sprawled in his command chair, staring unseeingly at the bridge viewing screen, when Dr. McCoy approached from the elevator.

  Kirk looked up and smiled. "Well, Bones, you should be happy; at long last you have your wish. We're on course to the nearest star base. Mission accomplished, as always when the Enterprise is involved."

  McCoy said grumpily, "I suggest you have Commander Spock reset your watches, Jim."

  Kirk frowned. "How do you mean?"

  "I mean that Nurse Christine Chapel and I have forty men and women in stasis, and the number is increasing steadily."

  "Forty! In deep sleep? Have you gone completely around the corner, Bones? We won't be able to work the ship."

  McCoy said grimly, "Jim, it's the only thing we've been able to hit upon, and we're going to that extreme only with the more severe cases. Half this ship's complement is showing the preliminary symptoms of space cafard. How long it will be before Nurse Chapel or I makes a mistake and underdiagnoses a serious case is in the laps of the gods. One cafard-crazed crewman running berserk through the ship and the mental contagion will spread like a forest fire, Jim. The whole ship could fall apart within the hour."

  Kirk, as well as every other person on the bridge, was staring in dismay at the ship's doctor.

  Kirk said, "What are the symptoms? How can you tell if a man's about to go over the edge, Bones?"

  McCoy looked him straight in the face. He said very slowly, "That tic in your left eye, Jim. You've been under too much strain for too long. I suggest you come to the sick bay for a checkup after your watch is over. Rank has no privileges so far as cafard is concerned."

  James Kirk slumped slightly in his command chair as though very tired. He shook his head wearily, as if attempting to reject what the other had just said.

  A messman from the steward department came around with coffee. Kirk wanted none, but McCoy took a cup and sipped at it

  He said, "How did the landing of young Grang come off?"

  Captain Kirk stirred and said, "Fine. We launched one of the shuttlecraft and hovered above the entrance of the Wolf clan cave. Then, using the loudspeaker, we gave them the full story, puffing up Grang to the skies and letting it be known that through his efforts the raiders will never again be seen. They welcomed him as though he were a Greek hero straight out of Homer."

  Ensign Chekov entered from the elevator and was unable to repress his chuckling.

  Kirk looked over at him. "Someone has managed to find something humorous on the Enterprise these days, Mr. Chekov?" There was a seldom heard tone of irritation in the voice of Captain James Kirk.

  The younger officer wasn't put off, however. He said, "Yes, sir. It was Mickey, sir."

  "Mickey!" Sulu blurted out from his helmsman's chair nearby.

  Lieutenant Uhura said, "The rat? See, Sulu, I told you he'd turn up again."

  Ensign Chekov was explaining to the captain. "Taylor and I saw him running down a corridor, sir. It was very funny. He wasn't exactly running-he was kind of dancing along. We almost caught him for Sulu, but he got away."

  Dr. McCoy's cup clattered and his coffee spilled over, unnoticed. "Dancing!" he snapped.

  Chekov looked at him in surprise. "Sure, Doc. He danced along. Sometimes he even kind of got up on his hind legs."

  Dr. McCoy darted for the elevator.

  Kirk, astonished, called, "Where are you off to, Bones?"

  "The sick bay!" the other called over his shoulder and was gone.

  Kirk grunted. "All this obsession with space cafard. I'm beginning to suspect Bones has a case of it himself."

  Sulu's face was white.

  Kirk noticed the stricken expression. "What's the matter with you, Mr. Sulu? Has everybody on this bridge suddenly gone around the bend?"

  Sulu blurted, "Plague!"

  "What are you talking about?" Kirk demanded.

  "Sir, back when Mr. Spock first told me that Mickey wasn't an exotic alien life form, but merely a rat originally from Earth, I looked the subject up in the library. I read all about rats, sir. Back in the old days on Earth rats carried bubonic plague. When they have it themselves, they act queer. Sometimes they seem to dance."

  Kirk snapped, "Lieutenant, give me the sick bay on the intercom at once."

  "Aye, aye, sir."

  The sick bay faded in. Dr. McCoy was bent over a computer hood, Nurse Christine Chapel immediately behind him. There was a feeling of tension in the air.

  Kirk barked, "Well?"

  McCoy looked up into the screen and ran his tongue over his
underlip. "Bubonic plague," he said. "Also known as the black death, from the dark-colored spots of blood under the skin which accompany it. In the past the disease caused the deaths of millions, particularly during the Middle Ages when it is estimated that three-quarters of the population of Europe was wiped out in one epidemic It was caused by the Bacillus pestis, which is transmitted by the rat flea. Its symptoms include vomiting, diarrhea, hemorrhaging, swelling of the joints, and discoloration of the skin. The disease lasts from one to thirty days and is usually fatal. It has been completely unknown in the Federation planets, having disappeared from Earth in the late twentieth century. The vaccine was always effective, according to my records here."

  Kirk said, "What does it all boil down to, so far as the Enterprise is concerned, Bones?"

  McCoy's face was wan. "If that elusive rat is carrying bubonic plague, Captain, I...."

  "What if he is? We'll just have to give the whole crew shots for-"

  But McCoy was shaking his head. "Captain, there hasn't been a case of plague on Earth or any of the Federation planets for centuries. I haven't any vaccine."

  There was a long, pregnant silence. Not an officer or crewman on the ship's bridge made a sound.

  Finally Kirk said softly, "What will we have to do, Dr. McCoy?"

  "We've got to destroy that animal. How much longer is the cruise to last, Captain?"

  "Possibly three months, now that we're finally on our way back."

  Dr. McCoy took a deep breath and said, "If any of us ever expect to see our homes again, we must find Mickey. We may all be dead before the Enterprise ever gets back to the Federation, but even if we aren't we'll never see our homes again until that rat is eliminated."

  Kirk scowled. "What do you mean by that?"

  "I mean there hasn't been any bubonic plague on any Federation planet for centuries, and most certainly nobody from the Enterprise would be allowed to land until the ship was pronounced free of danger from it We'd be quarantined, Captain."

  "Holy smokes!" Chekov blurted. "This gets serious!"

  Captain Kirk's eyes went to Sulu. "Mr. Sulu, undoubtedly you know more about this ... this Mickey, as you named him, than anyone else. The responsibility is yours. Requisition any men or equipment you need. Your orders are to get that rat!"

  Sulu came to his feet "Aye, aye, sir."

  Spock said, "Just a minute, Captain."

  "Well, Mr. Spock? Comments?"

  "Captain, a short time ago Dr. McCoy announced that he now had forty of the ship's personnel in stasis as a precaution against cafard. The Enterprise is understaffed, particularly in Mr. Scott's engine section, where they're working on a round-the-clock basis trying to keep the ship's engines in shape to provide us with as high a warp factor as possible."

  "Your point, Mr. Spock?"

  "I don't see where Mr. Sulu is going to find the manpower for his search."

  McCoy spoke up in the intercom screen. "Cafard is based on monotony and boredom carried to the ultimate extreme. I don't think men searching the ship with their lives at stake would be subject to boredom. I'll release my patients from stasis."

  Kirk said, "Very good, Doctor. But just one other thing. Can't you devise a new vaccine, or whatever, in the sick bay laboratory to handle this potential plague epidemic?"

  McCoy looked at him testily. "I can try, Jim. However, I might point out that I have been warning you for many months that the supplies of the Enterprise are depleted far beyond the point that makes sense. Not just engine room supplies and steward department supplies, but medical supplies as well. But there's another problem."

  "Yes?"

  "Jim, in the ship's library computer banks would you expect to find under the heading of engineering, or whatever, a description of a wheel and how to build it?"

  Kirk didn't follow him. "A wheel?"

  "Yes. A common wheel. Man has been making wheels since shortly after he emerged from the caves. It's been a problem we solved thousands of years ago."

  "I don't get the connection, Bones."

  McCoy said impatiently, "Captain, the problem of bubonic plague was solved centuries ago. Nobody's interested in it anymore except historians, perhaps. To make it short, Jim, there is no information in my medical computer banks dealing with bubonic plague." His face faded from the screen.

  Kirk turned worriedly to his first officer. "Mr. Spock, if you please, check the ship's central library computer banks for any and all information on the Middle Ages disease, the bubonic plague. You might also cross-check under the black death."

  "Yes, Captain." Spock bent over his hooded screen.

  Kirk touched a button on his command chair. "All hands. This is the captain. Now hear this. The ship is in a condition of emergency alert A small animal brought aboard as a pet has been lost somewhere on the ship. It is now reported that it is most likely carrying a virulent disease, once known as plague. Dr. McCoy has revealed that even if we can avoid an epidemic which would decimate the ship's complement, we would be placed in quarantine upon arrival at the nearest star base. If the Enterprise is successfully to complete this mission, the rat, Mickey, must be found and destroyed."

  With the assistance of all hands, Sulu went about Operation Mickey with an efficient thoroughness. The briefing room was set up as command headquarters of the search. To the extent possible, the search teams were assigned to the areas of the ship they knew best Engine men combed the engineering section; "deck" men searched the main saucer section of the vessel; the storage compartments, galleys, and mess halls were given a thorough going-over by members of the steward department.

  All crew members were issued clothing which could be tied tightly about the cuffs and even at the collar-protection, it was hoped, against the rat flea and its deadly bacillus.

  Every square inch was explored. Sulu's men progressed from one compartment to the next, searching each room with a care that would have made impossible the hiding of a cockroach. After each compartment was searched, its spacetight doors were locked, nor were they allowed open again until there were several other safe compartments between it and the balance of the unsearched ship.

  Operation Mickey went on ruthlessly, carefully. It began in the nose of the ship, covered the bridge, and combed back toward the stern and then down into the engineering section.

  The work had the full cooperation and sympathy of the entire ship's company. Gambling was taboo in space, but it was known that there was a pool among the crew on just when Mickey would bite the dust. One of the ship's clerks even instituted a bulletin, which was broadcast over the intercom every half hour, on the progress of the search. Interest peaked.

  In the wardroom Lieutenant Uhura, down now to two strings on her guitar, began the composition of "The Saga of Mickey the Space Rat" She left the last stanza incomplete, explaining that it was reserved for the final fate of Mickey.

  Finally Sulu emerged onto the bridge, attired in the uniform of the search, cuffs tied tight, phaser pistol at his belt He approached the captain's command chair and came to attention.

  "Eh?" Kirk said. "Got him at last, huh? Where was he, Mr. Sulu? I imagine down in one of the food storage holds."

  Sulu moistened his lips. "Sir, we searched every compartment in this ship."

  "I know you did, Mr. Sulu. It was a fantastic job in its thoroughness. It's unnecessary to go into details. Where was the little beast?"

  "We didn't find him, sir."

  Captain James Kirk shot to his feet "What!"

  Sulu said desperately, "Captain, I have one last plan that simply can't fail."

  Kirk stared at him. "What do you mean?"

  "Well, sir, it might seem a little unorthodox, but Mickey couldn't possibly escape."

  "Very well, Mr. Sulu. But this seems to be taking a ridiculously long time. Get on with it"

  Sulu hesitated. Then, taking a deep breath, he said, "Sir, my plan is to saturate the ship with chlorine gas."

  "Chlorine gas!"

  "Yes, sir," Sulu said. "The wh
ole ship. Every compartment, every room, every nook and corner, every cranny, with chlorine gas."

  Spock said, "Most interesting. Why chlorine, Mr. Sulu?"

  Sulu looked at him. "I checked with the chief engineer. He has the materials to manufacture a sufficient quantity of chlorine. Also, it's heavier than air. It will sink into every crevice on board."

  Ensign Chekov snorted, "It isn't bad enough that we're threatened first with space cafard and then with bubonic plague. Now Sulu wants to gas us."

  "That will be all, Mr. Chekov," the captain said curtly. And then to Sulu, "Let's have the rest of it"

  "Sir," Sulu said doggedly, "the whole crew can be put in space suits and remain in them for three hours. In that time we can fill the ship with gas. Nobody knows where Mickey's managed to hide himself, but, wherever it is, the gas will get him. After three hours we can blow the ship clean with the ventilating system and it will be safe to discard the space suits."

  Kirk looked at Spock. "Comments, Mr. Spock?"

  Spock's face was thoughtful. "Captain, it seems fairly reasonable to me. Not only, ah, Mickey, but any rat fleas he carries would be susceptible to chlorine, a most deadly gas of the halogen family, once used in warfare. And, as you know, our other alternatives are rapidly disappearing. Neither Dr. McCoy nor I has been able to locate anything in our library banks that would help us fight the disease."

  "Which amazes me," Kirk muttered.

  "Not at all, Captain. We can find historical references to bubonic plague, but, as the doctor has pointed out, there is no call for a description of the black death and its cure to be on file. It has long since been conquered and is now medically unknown."

  Kirk turned again to Sulu. "Very well, Mr. Sulu. Make the necessary arrangements. You have my go-ahead."

  So they donned their space suits, the intrepid personnel of the pride of the Starfleet, the U.S.S. Enterprise, and they deluged their ship with the deadly green gas. They saturated it They let the gas soak into every corner and crevice for three full hours; then they blew the ship clear.