Star Trek - TOS 38 Idic Epidemic

by Jean Lorrah

  “You were supposed to persuade me to agree to what Borth wanted,” said Korsal.

  “That is what he instructed me to do. And also get the codes from you. I do not take instructions from Borth,” she replied. “Korsal, I had never known a man could be so strong and honorable until I came to live with you. Whatever happens, I will stay with you.”

  “Father,” Kevin said from the next bed, “what is going to happen?”

  Korsal sighed. “The last thing Borth expects, or we would not be alive right now. I must tell Captain Kirk about Borth’s plans. There is no other way. Borth must be stopped, and short of killing him, I have no other way to do so.”

  But after Seela had gone, when he tried to contact Kirk, the communications officer informed him that the captain was busy and would return his call. “Then the second in command, please,” Korsal said.

  “Mr. Spock is not on the bridge. I will page him for you.”

  While he was waiting, another visitor appeared, this one unannounced: the Human male who had operated the transporter the day he and Kevin had been beamed aboard.

  “I’m Montgomery Scott, chief engineer,” said the Human. “We’ve met, though ye may not recall, bein’ you were near froze t’ death.” Korsal saw wariness in the man’s eyes, though he was trying to cover it. Whatever Korsal might do, Mr. Scott saw only “Klingon.

  “My son and I have you to thank for saving our lives,” Korsal replied.

  “An’ ye’ve returned the favor manyfold,” Mr. Scott replied, if somewhat stiffly. “Captain Kirk tells me he has promised your son Kevin a tour of engineering.”

  “Oh—yes!” Kevin said. “But, Father—”

  “I’ll take care of it, Kevin. You go along with Mr. Scott.”

  Kevin swung his terminal aside and got off the bed, searching for his slippers. Scott studied him. “The captain tells me you’ve been accepted to Starfleet Academy,” he said with faint skepticism.

  “Yes, I want to study engineering too. Like my father,” Kevin said. “Maybe I can adapt the antimatter generators you have aboard ship for planets like Nisus.”

  “It requires the absolute zero of deep space as a cooling system,” said Korsal. “Only starships can safely make use of it.”

  “Aye,” said Mr. Scott. “Come on along, lad, and I’ll show you why.”

  “Emergency communication for Korsal,” a female voice suddenly said from both the wall unit and the terminal that Korsal had left turned on.

  “Korsal here.”

  His screen came to life with the image of Emily Torrence. “Korsal, are you in any condition to work? Ask your doctor—”

  “I’m fine,” he said impatiently. “What’s wrong?”

  “Spring thaw,” she replied significantly.

  “Ice?”

  “A new problem. The river has slowed to a trickle, and investigators report an ice dam in the pass above the safety sluice where you crashed. The spring runoff is building behind it—”

  “And if it lets go, the dam and sluices can’t handle it!” exclaimed Korsal.

  “We’re sending every engineer we have up there —and it’s not enough. This plague has killed seven of our best people.”

  “Dinna fret, lass,” Mr. Scott said from behind Korsal’s shoulder. “I’ll gather my crew an’ be down there as fast as the transporter can operate. Have ye made sonar scans of the ice dam? We’ll hae t’ phaser runoff tunnels, let the pressure ease slowly. It’ll be delicate work t’ keep it from all breakin’ loose at once.” He glanced at Kevin. “Sorry, boy—that tour will have to wait.”

  “Of course!” said Kevin. “We’re corning along to help—aren’t we, Father?”

  But as Korsal and his son followed Mr. Scott out of sickbay, they ran straight into Dr. Gardens. “Where do you think you’re going?” she demanded.

  “Planetside,” Korsal explained. “We’ve got to prevent a flood!”

  Dr. Gardens spared a glance at Mr. Scott’s retreating back. “Scotty’s going down to fix it?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then you’re not needed. Back to bed, both of you. Kevin, you look flushed—too much excitement already today.”

  “Doctor,” said Korsal, “we are not prisoners on board this ship!”

  “No, but you are our only source of iron-based serum against the Nisus plague. Not only dare you not endanger your lives, you can’t afford as much as a cold. If you stay here, in another twenty hours we can administer the blood-stimulant drugs again and save more plague victims. If you beam down, you risk illness or injury. You will certainly exhaust yourselves, and delay the time we can start drawing blood. More people will die than would have had to.”

  Korsal knew she read in his face that she had won. He made no further protest. The doctor softened. “Korsal, Montgomery Scott is one of the best engineers in the Federation. Under emergency conditions and with a tight deadline, he is probably the best. If anyone can prevent that dam from bursting, it’s our Mr. Scott.”

  Chapter Thirty-four

  Spock was still in sickbay when Sendet was brought in, fighting and raving. From his rantings, he recognized that the man thought he was in pon farr, the time when a Vulcan male must mate or die, but the diagnostic indicators quickly showed that what he had was the Nisus plague.

  Not surprisingly, the blood tests showed that the young man had Strain C. The initial paranoia symptomatic of that strain had triggered Sendet’s greatest concern: his unbonded state, combined with exile to a world where males outnumbered females.

  Spock’s mother, also still in sickbay, did not need Vulcan hearing to notice the commotion. Amanda was nearly recovered. When the noise level indicated that Sendet had lapsed into unconsciousness, she came to sit beside Spock’s bed.

  “Spock—” Although she hesitated, he knew what was on her mind.

  “Yes, Sendet reminds me that I am unbonded and adult. But there is no use discussing it. By the time I need fear pon farr again, I promise that I will do something about it.”

  She smiled sadly. “I had hoped that while you were home, you would meet an appropriate woman.”

  “I met several appropriate women. However, the long separations that weakened my first bonding will continue as long as I remain in Starfleet. I have time, Mother. You married out of free choice. Allow me to do the same.”

  His mother’s smile became warmer. “If that is your attitude, Spock, then I need not be so concerned. I take it the Followers of T’Vet have been removed from engineering?”

  “Yes. Mr. Scott got the doors open, and then the Nisus plague gave impetus to their desire to leave rather than fight. I suppose we may expect several more of them to require beds in sickbay soon. Dr. McCoy informs me that I may resume light duty tomorrow.”

  “And I will be released later today,” said Amanda. “Did I hear correctly that your life was saved with serum from Romulan blood?”

  “Yes. T’Pina’s. I searched her records, but there is nothing to indicate how a Romulan infant could have been on that Vulcan colony planet where she was found.”

  “Does it matter?” Amanda asked. “Spock … perhaps Sendet and Satat were right to call this disease the IDIC Epidemic, for look what is happening. The disease may spread where infinite diversity is combined, but that combination is the cure, as well! Our rescuers are Klingons and Romulans—”

  “Mother,” Spock interrupted, “neither empire has flocked to our rescue. Korsal is the only Klingon on Nisus, his sons are half Human, and T’Pina is Vulcan to all intents and purposes. You have enough diplomatic experience to know that what we have here is no hope for future cooperation, but a deadly secret that must be kept from both the Klingons and the Romulans. Otherwise, this plague to which they have natural immunity could become a weapon against the Federation.”

  As promised, the following day Spock resumed his duties. Captain Kirk welcomed himback, but no one had any great cheer to impart. Despite restricting the serum for iron-based blood to only critical patients now th
at all medical personnel had been inoculated, there was still not enough to go around. Dr. McCoy was fuming that the Orion contingent on Nisus had used diplomatic pressure to obtain the scarce copper-based serum for people who were not ill. And their Klingon guests had developed side effects and been taken temporarily off the blood stimulants.

  Nor could it be hoped that one solitary young woman could produce enough blood, even with the help of the Rigellian drug, to inoculate everyone with copper-based blood.

  Their great discovery was too little, too late—and the only possible sources of help were enemies who could not be allowed to find out what was happening.

  Soon Spock was back on his normal schedule, but since they were doing nothing but orbiting Nisus, that left him with little to do and too much time to think. Thus when he heard that Mr. Scott was going down to Nisus to prevent a flood, he volunteered to join the landing party.

  “Ye’re always welcome when there’s technical work to be done,” Mr. Scott informed him.

  They beamed down to the lip of a canyon in the mountains above Nisus’ science colony. It was a sunny spring day, warm enough even for Spock to compensate for temperature without resorting to cumbersome clothing.

  But the very warmth was their enemy.

  Mr. Scott took one look at the ice jam in the canyon, the wall of water built up behind it, and whispered, “Good God!”

  Two Tellarite engineers brought them the readings they had already taken. “Why weren’t we sent up here yesterday? It could go at any minute,” one of them said angrily. “There are three weak spots. Melt any area—”

  “Aye,” said Scott. “Anything we do is going to break it. We’re too late!”

  He flipped open his communicator. “Captain! That ice jam’s about t’give. I’ll stay here and make a stab at evening the pressure, but send out an evacuation order for the city—an’ I suggest ye beam Mr. Spock and the others aboard. There’s naught they can do here but wish me luck.”

  “Captain,” Spock added into his own communicator, “beam me down to the city and prepare our emergency teams to combat flood conditions.”

  “Right,” said Kirk, and Spock heard him saying, “Uhura, send that evacuation warning.”

  Then Spock prepared to beam, stepping away from Mr. Scott, who was setting up the phaser equipment for a futile try at precision melting of the ice jam.

  Just before the beam took him, before Mr. Scott had even finished setting up his equipment, Spock saw the ice break.

  The center gave first, and water rushed through like a rocket thrust!

  Then the sides crumbled, and with a roar the wall of water surged forward, carrying everything in its path—dissolving into sparkles as Spock was beamed aboard the Enterprise.

  Chapter Thirty-five

  After a few hours on the blood stimulant, T’Pina drifted in and out of consciousness. When she was awake the world was oddly skewed; at times she was not certain what was real, what was imagination. At other times she felt normal, until she found herself saying or thinking things alien to her.

  There was always someone at her side, but she did not recognize most of them. Her mother was there once, she thought—but at a distance, somewhere beyond some long tunnel stretching between them. T’Kar’s voice echoed hollowly as she told T’Pina, “You are my daughter. Blood never mattered before—why should it now? T’Pina?”

  T’Pina wanted to answer, but words would not come. She didn’t know what they were. She only knew that she had displeased her mother and could not correct the error. It was in her blood … in her blood … her blood.

  T’Pina woke when someone took her hand. The hand on hers was cool, perhaps one of the Human medical personnel—

  But it was not a nurse or doctor’s touch, nor did it either move or let go. Somebody was offering comfort, she recognized, in the manner of Humans and several other species. She did not pull her hand away, but merely let her eyes open.

  There was a man seated beside her bed, wearing pajamas and a robe—a patient. She recognized Beau Deaver and vaguely remembered seeing him, critical and close to death, that day they had found the immunity factor in her blood.

  He was obviously alive now, although he still looked haggard. He had shaved, but it must have been some hours ago, for his beard again shadowed his cheeks. His black hair had grown just enough longer than on the day they had met that it looked shaggy, giving it more than ever the appearance of fur.

  He smiled at her, his dark blue eyes warm and encouraging. “You were dreaming,” he said.

  “Why …are you here?” she asked.

  “Saved me life, you did,” he replied. “Least I c’n do is see that with that drug, you don’t do yourself an injury. Takes no medical skill—yer friends’re takin’ it in turn. Now don’t go Vulcan,” he added, closing his hand over hers as she belatedly attempted to withdraw. “Yer healer says you can’t be logical with that stuff, so just don’t bother to try.”

  “I am not Vulcan,” T’Pina said, closing her eyes. She believed it at last. “Why should I be logical?”

  “In that case,” Deaver replied, “lemme take advantage of yer condition to ask you to go out with me. As soon’s the epidemic’s over an’ we’re outta this place —the minute they reopen the restaurants.”

  T’Pina opened her eyes again, having trouble following, not so much what he was saying as any logical purpose in it. So she asked, “What do you want of me?”

  “Your company for a nice dinner, maybe a concert or a play, and after that … who knows?”

  She frowned, honestly puzzled. “But why?”

  “Because you are beautiful,” he said, “you are brave … and it just might help you t’ talk to someone with a lifetime’s experience at bein’ a betwixt-an’-between.”

  “A what?”

  “Someone not what they appear. I look Human at first glance—but prick me, I bleed green.” He chuckled. “Won me a few fights that way over the years —some blokes are so startled to bloody me nose an’ get pea soup that they let me land the next coupla blows gratis.”

  “Do you often engage in fistfights?” she asked, her mind able to focus only on parts of what he was saying.

  “Not now, but in me misspent youth there was hardly a week I didn’t black somebody’s eye.” He shrugged. “ ‘Twas that or let ‘im black mine. Hardest thing when I started goin’ t’ proper schools was learnin’ most people don’t solve arguments by dukin’ it out. Where I come from, most did.”

  T’Pina could not imagine such an upbringing. Deaver gave her a sardonic smile. “Oh, yes, there are plenty of places in the galaxy where you get by on yer wits an’ yer fists—and some skill with a knife don’t hurt none.”

  T’Pina turned her gaze away, saying, “Please forgive me; I did not mean to exhibit surprise.”

  “Thought you’d abandoned logic for the duration,” he teased, causing her to look back at him, finding again the warm, friendly smile on his face. “Hey,” he added, “told you: yer fulla drugs. Even that walkin’ statue Sorel says nothin’ you do or say can be held against you, okay?”

  Since she was still feeling very far from normal,T’Pina nodded and agreed, echoing the Human term, “Okay.”

  “Of course if you’d like t’ hold—” Deaver began, but then, inexplicably, broke off what he was about to say.

  She saw something in those dark blue eyes that disturbed her already precarious equilibrium; but at her glance the eyes suddenly were shadowed. He hid his feelings as effectively as any Vulcan. “Almost went too far, didn’t I? Me worst habit. Always have to push the limits.”

  Even more confused by the apology she didn’t understand, T’Pina took the opportunity to withdraw her hand from Deaver’s. He didn’t move his hand, leaving it on the edge of her bed. It made her feel inexplicably as if she now ought to apologize … but she didn’t know for what.

  Instead she took up what she did understand. “Pushing the limits makes great scientists. Or mathematicians,” she added, r
emembering his profession. “If you confine it to your work—”

  “I’ll solve the Universal Equation, but get no fun outta life,” he told her.

  “I thought mathematics was ‘fun’ to you.”

  “You were listening!” he said, eyes shining in delight, a reaction T’Pina recognized even in her drugged state as inappropriately enthusiastic for its cause.

  “Certainly,” she replied. “I always listen.”

  “Ah, but you remembered,” he said, refusing the rebuff. “Now—”

  He was interrupted by a voice over the intercom.

  “This is an emergency alert. The hospital is being evacuated because of the possibility of a flash flood. Patients please remain in your rooms until hospitalpersonnel come to help you. Personnel, this is Emergency Procedure Three, repeat, Emergency Procedure Three.

  “Ambulatory patients, follow hospital personnel to the designated areas of safety. Immobilized patients, do not attempt to disconnect equipment. Hospital personnel will move you.”

  The message began to repeat.

  Deaver said, “A flash flood? There’s been no rain to speak of.”

  T’Pina, who had lived on Nisus most of her life, remembered. “It’s the spring melt-off. Sometimes the ice blocks the canyons up in the mountains, and if it lets go all at once, it can overflow the dam. Twice we were evacuated when I was in school here, but there was no serious flooding either time.”

  “That’s a relief,” said Deaver. “Still—”

  A Rigellian technician entered the room, pushing a gurney. “Ah, Mr. Deaver,” he said. “You’re ambulatory. Take the corridor outside to the left. Follow the blue lines to—”

  “I’ll help you with T’Pina,” said Deaver.

  “You are a patient yourself—” the man began.

  “Ya wanna fight about it?” Deaver suggested as if he wouldn’t mind a bit. “Or ya wanna get this lady with the precious blood to safety?”