"Not necessarily, Dr. McCoy," said Spock.
"What d'ya mean, Spock?" McCoy growled. "And, by god, this better be good."
"Spock?" Kirk said, overlapping McCoy. "If you've got something, give!"
But it was to Uhura that Spock turned. "You do understand, Lieutenant, that many of our assumptions remain assumptions."
She nodded- Jim Kirk realized that she did not trust herself to speak- but her dark eyes were full of entreaty.
Spock said, "I believe Quickfoot has given us your landmark."
"Are you tellin' me you can find this home world, Spock?" McCoy looked down. Quickfoot's form was hidden from them by the table, but no one had any doubt about what he saw: his face was gray.
"No, Doctor. I can give you no such assurance. I can only state that there is now a possibility of doing so, given Lieutenant Uhura's information and Quickfoot's. If my calculations are correct, they serve only to narrow the area of search. And, should we find the Eeiauoans' planet of origin, we have no guarantee that the Eeiauoans' distant relatives can deal any more efficaciously with ADF syndrome -"
"- Than I can, is that what you're sayin', Spock?"
"I had intended no aspersion, Dr. McCoy. You are hardly the only doctor trying to contend with the situation."
The anger washed from McCoy's face. "I know, Spock, I know.... God, I'm tired." He looked down again and rubbed his hands over his eyes. "So you're grasping at straws, too."
"If I recall my Terran proverbs correctly," Spock said, "we are looking for a needle in a haystack."
"And Quickfoot told you which haystack."
Spock gave this thoughtful consideration, then said, "Affirmative."
That seemed to satisfy McCoy. He turned his attention back to Kirk. "I'd appreciate it if you'd brief Evan Wilson while I see to Quickfoot and tell her I'll get back to her with Chapel's results later today. A full briefing, Jim- haystack and all."
"Haystack and all, Bones."
"Thanks- and good luck, for all our sakes. McCoy out."
Lieutenant Uhura turned from her station. "Message from Starfleet Command, sir." Her voice was level, but Kirk could see the effort it cost her.
"Put it on the screen, Lieutenant," he said. She flashed him a look of immense gratitude and did.
"Kirk here," he said and found himself speaking to Starfleet's commander-in-chief and the president of the Federation Council. His back straightened and he had to force himself not to salute twice. He wasn't the only one- he could hear backbones snapping erect all over the bridge. Well, he thought, it's not often you see that much brass all in one place!
Aloud, he said, "Sir!" and to the tall, slender woman, "Ms. President. This is an honor."
She shook her head grimly and corrected, "This is an emergency." She gestured to the commander, who said, "The Enterprise is hereby ordered to begin a search for Sivao, the Eeiauoan homeworld. Follow your own calculations and proceed with all possible speed.... The president has further instructions for you."
"Thank you, Commander." The president gave him a long, steady look, then she said, "Extraordinary circumstances require an extraordinary response, Captain Kirk. When you find the Eeiauoan homeworld, you are to make immediate and open contact with the inhabitants. The Federal Council has agreed to waive the Non-Interference Directive. We will have to rely on your judgment, Captain- make it good."
Kirk nodded.
"That's all, Captain Kirk," said the commander-in-chief. "You will prepare for immediate departure. Starfleet Command out." The image vanished.
There was a moment of dead silence on the bridge, then abruptly everyone seemed to be talking at once. Kirk allowed the babble to continue for a space- it not only provided a safety valve, but it gave him time to consider the implications himself- then he said, "People, please! You heard the orders. I suggest we stop gossiping and get to work."
He got back an enthusiastic chorus of "Aye, Captain!" from all sides.
Kirk rose and positioned himself to look over his science officer's shoulder. It did him no good; he couldn't decipher the data on Spock's screen. "How soon can we have those coordinates?"
"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 work, 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."