Star Trek - Blish, James - 01 Page 11

  Before she could speak, however, there was a pro-longed rattling and clanking sound from outside, as though someone had emptied a garbage can off a rooftop. It was followed by the wasplike snarl of a phaser bolt.

  Far away, and seemingly high up a child's voice called: "Nyah nyah nyah nyah. NYAH, Nyah!"

  "Guards!" Spock's voice shouted.

  Many voices answered, as if from all sides: "Nyah nyah nyah nyah NYAH, nyah!"

  Then there was silence, except for the echoes.

  "It seems," Kirk said, "that your friends don't want to be found."

  "Maybe that's not the first step anyhow, Jim," McCoy said. "Whatever happened here, somewhere there must be records about it. If we're to do anything, we have to put our fingers on the cause. The best place would probably be the local public health center. What about that, Miri? Is there a place where the doctors used to work? Maybe a government building?"

  "I know that place," she said distastefully. "Them and their needles. That's a bad place. None of us go there."

  "But that's where we have to go," Kirk said. "It's important if we're to help you. Please take us."

  He held out his hand, and, very hesitantly, she took it. She looked up at him with something like the beginnings of wonder.

  "Jim is a nice name," she said. "I like it."

  "I like yours, too. And I like you."

  "I know you do. You can't really be a grup. You're- something different." She smiled and stood up, grace-fully. As she did so, she looked down, and he felt her grip stiffen. Then, carefully, she disengaged it.

  "Oh!" she said in a choked voice. "Already!"

  He looked down too, already more than half aware of what he would see. Across the back of his hand was a sprawling blue blotch, about the size of a robin's egg.

  The laboratory proved to be well-equipped, and since it had been sealed and was windowless, there was less than the expected coating of dust on the tables and equipment. Its size and lack of windows also made it seem unpleasantly like the inside of a tomb, but nobody was prepared to complain about that; Kirk was only grateful. that its contents had proved unattractive to any looters : who might have broken into it.

  The blue blotches had appeared upon all of them now, although those on Mr. Spock were the smallest and appeared to spread more slowly; that was to have been expected, since he came from far different stock than did the rest of the crew, or the colonists for that matter. Just as clearly, his nonterrestrial origin conferred no immunity on him, only a slight added resistance.

  McCoy had taken biopsies from the lesions; some of the samples he stained, others he cultured on a variety of media. The blood-agar plate had produced a glistening, wrinkled blue colony which turned out to consist of active, fecund bacteria strongly resembling spirochetes. McCoy, however, was convinced that these were not the cause of the disease, but only secondary invaders.

  "For one thing, they won't take on any of the lab animals I've had sent down from the ship," he said, "which means I can't satisfy Koch's Postulates. Second, there's an abnormally high number of mitotic figures in the stained tissues, and the whole appearance is about halfway between squamous metaplasia and frank neoplasm. Third, the choromosome table shows so many displacements-"

  "Whoa, I'm convinced," Kirk protested. "What does it add up to?"

  "I think the disease proper is caused by a virus," McCoy said. "The spirochetes may help, of course; there's an Earthly disease called Vincent's angina that's produced by two micro-organisms working in concert."

  "Is the spirochete communicable?"

  "Highly, by contact. You and Yeoman Rand got yours from Miri; we got them from you two."

  "Then I'd better see that no one else does," Kirk said. He told his communicator: "Kirk to Enterprise. No one, repeat, no one, under any circumstances, is to transport down here until further notice. The planet is heavily infected. Set up complete decontamination procedures for any of us who return."

  "Computer?" McCoy nudged.

  "Oh yes. Also, ship us down the biggest portable bio-computer-the cat-brain job. That's to get the live-steam treatment too when it goes back up."

  "Captain," Spock called. He had been going through a massed rank of file cabinets which occupied almost all of one wall. Now he was beckoning, a folder in one hand. "I think we've got something here."

  They all went over except McCoy, who remained at the microscope. Spock handed the folder to Kirk and began pulling others. "There's a drawer-full of these. Must have been hundreds of people working on it. No portable bio-comp is going to process this mass of data in anything under a year."

  "Then we'll feed the stuff to the ship's computer by communicator," Kirk said. He looked down at the folder.

  It was headed:

  Progress Report

  LIFE PROLONGATION PROJECT

  Genetics Section

  "So that's what it was," Janice Rand said.

  "We don't know yet," Kirk said. "But if it was, it must have been the galaxy's biggest backfire. All right, let's get to work. Miri, you can help too: lay out these folders on the long table there by categories-one for genetics, one for virology, one for immunology, or what-ever. Never mind what the words mean, just match 'em up."

  The picture merged with maddening slowness. The general principle was clear almost from the start: an attempt to counter the aging process by selectively re-pairing mutated body cells. Aging is primarily the ac-cumulation in the body of cells whose normal functions have been partly damaged by mutations, these in turn being caused by the entrance of free radicals into the cell nucleus, thus deranging the genetic code. The co-lony's scientists had known very well that there was no blocking out the free radicals, which are created every-where in the environment, by background radiation, by sunlight, by combustion, and even by digestion. Instead, they proposed to create a self-replicating, viruslike sub-stance which would remain passive in the bloodstream until actual cell damage occurred; the virus would then penetrate the cell and replace the damaged element. The injection would be given at birth, before the baby's im-munity mechanism was fully in action, so that is would be "selfed"-that is, marked as a substance normal to the body rather than an invader to be battled; but it would remain inactive until triggered by the hormones of puberty, so as not to interfere with normal growth processes.

  "As bold a project as I've heard of in all my life," McCoy declared. "Just incidentally, had this thing worked, it would have been the perfect cancer preventive. Cancer is essentially just a local explosion of the aging process, in an especially virulent form."

  "But it didn't work," Spock said. "Their substance was entirely too much like a virus-and it got away from them. Oh, it prolongs life, all right-but only in children. When puberty finally sets in, it kills them."

  "How much?" Janice Rand asked.

  "You mean, how long does it prolong life? We don't know because the experiment hasn't gone on that long. All we know is the rate: the injected person ages about a month, physiological time, for every hundred years, objective time. For the children, it obviously does work that way."

  Janice stared at Miri. "A month in a hundred years!" she said. "And the experiment was three centuries ago! Eternal childhood... It's like a dream."

  "A very bad dream, Yeoman," Kirk said. "We learn through example and responsibilities. Miri and her friends were deprived of both. It's a dead end street."

  "With a particularly ugly death at the end," McCoy agreed. "It's amazing that so many children did survive. Miri, how did you get along after all the grups died?"

  "We had foolies," Miri said. "We had fun. There wasn't anybody to tell us not to. And when we got hungry, we just took something. There were lots of things in cans, and lots of mommies."

  "Mommies?"

  "You know." Miri wound her hand vigorously in mid-air, imitating the motion of a rotary can-opener. Janice Rand choked and turned away. "Jim... now that you found what you were looking for... are you going away?"

  "Oh no," Kirk said. "
We've still got a great deal more to learn. Your grups seemed to have done their experi-ments in a certain definite sequence, a sort of timetable. Any sign of that yet, Mr. Spock?"

  "No, sir. Very likely it's kept somewhere else. If this were my project, I'd keep it in a vault; it's the key to the whole business."

  "I'm afraid I agree. And unless we can figure it out, Miri, we won't be able to identify the virus, synthesize it, and make a vaccine."

  "That's good," Miri said. "Your not going, I mean. We could have fun-until it happens."

  "We still may be able to stop it. Mr. Spock, I gather you couldn't get close to any of the other children?"

  "No chance. They know the area too well. Like mice."

  "All right, let's try another approach. Miri, will you help us find some of them?"

  "You won't find any," Miri said positively. "They're afraid. They won't like you. And they're afraid of me, too, now, ever since..." she stopped.

  "We'll try to make them understand."

  "Onlies?" the girl said. "You couldn't do it. That's the best thing about being an only. Nobody expects you to understand."

  "You understand."

  Abruptly Miri's eyes filled with tears. "I'm not an only any more," she said. She ran out of the room. Janice looked after her compassionately.

  Janice said: "That little girl-"

  "-is three hundred years older than you are, Yeoman," Kirk finished for her. "Don't leap to any conclusions. It's got to make some sort of a difference in her-whether we can see it yet or not."

  But in a minute Miri was back, the cloudburst passed as if it had never been, looking for something to do, Mr. Spock set her to sharpening pencils, of which the ancient laboratory seemed to have scores. She set to it cheerfully-but throughout, her eyes never left Kirk. He tried not to show that he was aware of it.

  "Captain? This is Farrell on the Enterprise. We're ready to compute."

  "All right, stand by. Mr. Spock, what do you need?"

  Miri held up a fistful of pencils. "Are these enough?"

  "Uh? Oh-we could use more, if you don't mind."

  "Oh no, Jim," she said. "Why should I mind?"

  "This fellow," Spock said, fanning out a sheaf of papers on the table, "left these notes in the last weeks-after the disaster began. I disregarded these last entries; he said he was too far gone himself, too sick, to be sure he wasn't delirious, and I agree. But these earlier tables ought to show us how much time we have left. By the way, it's clear that the final stages we've seen here are typical. Homicidal mania."

  "And nothing to identify the virus strain-or its chem-istry?" McCoy said.

  "Not a thing," Spock said. "He believed somebody else was writing that report. Maybe somebody was and we just haven't found it yet-or maybe that was the first of his hallucinations. Anyhow, the first overt stage is intense fever... pain in the joints... fuzziness of vision. Then, gradually, the mania takes over. By the way, Dr. McCoy, you were right about the spirochetes- they do contribute. They create the mania, not the virus. It'll be faster in us because we haven't carried the disease in latent form as long as Miri."

  "What about her?" Kirk said in a low voice.

  "Again, we'll have to see what the computer says. Roughly, I'd guess that she could survive us by five or six weeks-if one of us doesn't kill her first-"

  "Enough now?" Miri said simultaneously, holding up more pencils.

  "No!" Kirk burst out angrily.

  The corners of her mouth turned down and her lower lip protruded. "Well, all right, Jim," she said in a small voice. "I didn't mean to make you mad."

  "I'm sorry, Miri. I wasn't talking to you. I'm not mad." He turned back to Spock. "All right, so we still don't know what we're fighting. Feed your figures to Farrell and then at least we'll know what the time factor is. Damnation! If we could just put our hands on that virus, the ship could develop a vaccine for us in twenty-four hours. But there's just no starting point."

  "Maybe there is," McCoy said slowly. "Again, it'd be a massive computational project, but I think it might work. Jim, you know how the desk-bound mind works. If this lab was like every other government project I've run across, it had to have order forms in quintuplicate for everything it used. Somewhere here there ought to be an accounting file containing copies of those orders. They'd show us what the consumption of given reagents was at different times. I'll be able to spot the obvious routine items-culture media and shelf items, things like that-but we'll need to analyze for what is signifi-cant. There's at least a chance that such an analysis would reconstruct the missing timetable."

  "A truly elegant idea," Mr. Spock said. "The question is-"

  He was interrupted by the buzzing of Kirk's com-municator.

  "Kirk here."

  "Farrell to landing party. Mr. Spock's table yields a cut-off point at seven days."

  For a long moment there was no sound but the jerky whirring of the pencil sharpener. Then Spock said evenly:

  "That was the question I was about to raise. As much as I admire Dr. McCoy's scheme, it will almost surely require more time than we have left."

  "Not necessarily," McCoy said. "If it's true that the spirochete creates the mania, we can possibly knock it out with antibiotics and keep our minds clear for at least a while longer-"

  Something hit the floor with a smash. Kirk whirled. Janice Rand had been cleaning some of McCoy's slides in a beaker of chromic acid. The corrosive yellow stuff was now all over the floor. Some of it had spattered Janice's legs. Grabbing a wad of cotton, Kirk dropped to his knees to mop them.

  "No, no," Janice sobbed. "You can't help me-you can't help me!"

  Stumbling past McCoy and Spock, she ran out of the laboratory, sobbing. Kirk started after her.

  "Stay here," he said. "Keep working. Don't lose a minute."

  Janice was standing in the hallway, her back turned, weeping convulsively. Kirk resumed swabbing her legs, trying not to notice the ugly blue blotches marring them. As he worked, her tears gradually died back. After a while she said in a small voice:

  "Back on the ship you never noticed my legs."

  Kirk forced a chuckle. "The burden of command, Yeoman: to see only what regs say is pertinent... That's better, but soap and water will have to be next."

  He stood up. She looked worn, but no longer hyster-ical. She said:

  "Captain, I didn't really want to do that."

  "I know," Kirk said. "Forget it."

  "It's so stupid, such a waste... Sir, do you know all I can think about? I should know better, but I keep thinking, I'm only twenty-four-and I'm scared."

  "I'm a little older, Yeoman. But I'm scared too."

  "You are?"

  "Of course. I don't want to become one of those things, any more than you do. I'm more than scared. You're my people. I brought you here. I'm scared for all of us."

  "You don't show it," she whispered. "You never show it. You always seem to be braver than any ten of us."

  "Baloney," he said roughly. "Only an idiot isn't afraid when there's something to be afraid of. The man who feels no fear isn't brave, he's just stupid. Where courage comes in is in going ahead and coping with danger, not being paralyzed by fright. And especially, not letting yourself be panicked by the other guy."

  "I draw the moral," Janice said, trying to pull herself erect. But at the same time, the tears started coming quietly again. "I'm sorry," she repeated in a strained voice. "When we get back, sir, you'd better put in for a dry-eyed Yeoman."

  "Your application for a transfer is refused." He put his arm around her gently, and she tried to smile up at him. The movement turned them both around toward the entrance to the lab.

  Standing in it was Miri, staring at them with her fists crammed into her mouth, her eyes wide with an unfathomable mixture of emotions-amazement, protest, hatred even? Kirk could not tell. As he started to speak, Miri whirled about and was gone. He could hear her running footsteps receding; then silence.

  "Troubles never come alone," Kirk said
resignedly."We'd better go back."

  "Where was Miri going?" McCoy asked interestedly, the moment they re-entered. "She seemed to be in a hurry."

  "I don't know. Maybe to try and look for more onlies. Or maybe she just got bored with us. We haven't time to worry about her. What's next?"

  "Next is accident prevention time," McCoy said. "I should have thought of it before, but Janice's accident re-minded me of it. There are a lot of corrosive reagents around here, and if we have any luck, we'll soon be playing with infectious material too. I want everyone out of their regular clothes and into lab uniforms we can shuck the minute they get something spilled on them. There's a whole locker full of them over on that side. All our own clothes go out of the lab proper into the anteroom, or else we'll just have to burn 'em when we get back to the ship."