SOMETHING LOST

by

Sheila Clark

"No, Admiral, I do not agree."

The Surgeon-General fought to control his exasperation, but it showed. clearly in the studied quietness with which he spoke. "It has been clearly established that well-adjusted introverts are better suited to Starship life than most of the more blatantly extrovert types. They are better suited to Starbase life - especially those bases sited on planets rather than those set on artificial structures... insofar as they are suited to Starfleet life at all."

"Oh, come now, Doctor." Admiral Fitzgerald knew that the Surgeon-General preferred that title to his rank. "You can't deny that a few extroverts serve to liven up a dull rec room."

"Sure - if there's anyone in it except those same extroverts," Dr. Tokoto muttered, a note of cynicism in his voice that Fitzgerald either failed to catch or chose not to notice.

"Well, then," he said cheerfully, "I repeat my proposal that we no longer assign personnel of marked extrovert characteristics to Starbases, regardless of their attainments, but assign all personnel graduating from the Academy to posts on Starbases or Starships depending on their qualifications. We have, in my opinion, been prejudiced against extroverts in Starfleet for far too long, on the basis of a generalised psychologist's recommendation dating back almost three hundred years. It is time we realised that we are living in the twenty-third century, gentlemen, not the twentieth."

There was a murmur of general agreement. Looking round, Dr. Tokoto realised that he was in a minority of one, and gave a resigned shrug. Even here in the upper echelons of Starfleet, people could be moved by emotional rather than rational argument, and he paused to regret yet again the death of the Vulcan Admiral St'lar, his friend and sure ally in matters requiring logical thought. If St'lar had even been replaced by another Vulcan... but no, the space in the ranks of Starfleet Command had been filled by the Tellarite Vik, an intelligent and capable being but too prone to be swayed by emotional considerations. But then, he mused, that was a common failing of the Tellarites... Just who was responsible for this current idiocy Fitzgerald was dropping in their laps, he wondered, with a strong suspicion that someone, somewhere, was pulling rank for personal considerations.

"Very well," Tokoto conceded. "But may I make one last plea for what I consider sanity? Make this decision experimental, limited to one Starship, for a period of at least a year, and then reconsider on the basis of that crew's performance and adjustment to the new situation at that time."

Fitzgerald looked round the others. Tokoto added, coaxingly, "It would be foolhardy, surely, to made a decision that goes against all psychological recommendations without leaving an 'escape clause' - in case it proves that the psychologists of the past were correct."

"Three ships out of the twelve Starships," Admiral Komack, Fitzgerald's chief rival for the chairmanship of the Command meetings, suggested. "One might be insufficient for an accurate assessment. Shall we say the next three to require replacement crew?"

Tokoto made a face - bad enough to have one ship's efficiency rating under risk, but three was still better than the entire Starship Fleet. "All right, three ships," he agreed, glad that the rivalry between the two most senior Admirals was leading Komack to side with him, however reluctantly, and knowing that his reluctance to accept even this compromise was clearly audible. Fitzgerald looked round, ignoring the tone of Tokoto's agreement, and apparently well enough pleased to accept the compromise himself. "All agreed? Excellent. Now we must consider a petition from Beta Draconis V... "

Captain James T. Kirk made a face as he watched the tape containing his new orders. It was the sort of mission he detested - semi-diplomatic, carrying representatives of a world anxious to learn more about the Federation to a meeting of the High Council. Such a mission was fraught with pitfalls, and since the Babel mission in particular, permanently nerve-racking. The Klingons would, he knew, do everything in their power to prevent further expansion of the U.F.P.

Spock watched the expressive face with some amusement - well-concealed, of course. It was a constant source of refreshment to him - even in the privacy of his own thoughts he denied that it was a source of amusement - to watch the changing and oh-so-revealing expressions on his friend's face.

Resignation - he had learned most of his now-extensive understanding of Human facial expressions from Kirk - replaced the annoyance-indignation-disgust-frustration flicking in rapid succession over the Captain's face as he sighed wearily.

"What do we know about the Ubarrak, Spock?°"

"Very little." Spock paused briefly, considering. "They are of course humanoid and are thought to be of canine descent. Their appearance concurs; they still possess tails, and the angle at which the tail is held signifies their position in their culture - their rank, if you prefer. Our lack of tails to indicate our... degree of pride... will be a handicap in our dealings with them; they will possibly be inclined to consider us as subordinate as those of their own race whose tails are carried low. Their mouths and vocal cords are incapable of forming any Federation language, and for the same reason, no race in the Federation can master their language; translators will therefore have to be in use at all times."

Kirk made another face. "I don't like being completely dependent on translators," he commented. "You lose too many shades of meaning."

"You can do that even when both languages are spoken fluently, since different races usually have different concepts, different bases for thought," Spock replied evenly. "Too many abstract concepts are just that - abstract, and depend on the race's ethos, its views on honesty, morality, strength or weakness - all of these are subjective. Even I - I speak both Terran and Vulcan fluently, was trained in both from infancy although I spoke mostly Vulcan until I joined the Enterprise. I do not properly understand many Terran colloquialisms - as a teacher, my mother spoke properly grammatical Terran... and I would find it extremely difficult at times to translate completely accurately from one language to the other, retaining all the shades of meaning. I manage from day to day because I can think in both languages."

Kirk nodded, accepting the comment. "I suppose they will have the intelligence to realise that little problem. About the tails - we'll just have to hope that they will accept rank insignia in lieu of tails carried high. If they're already in contact with the Federation they must know we're all tail-less." He sighed. "I wish - oh, how I wish - that they'd let us get on with purely exploratory work!"

"This ship is too successful, Jim," Spock said sympathetically, responding to the wistful note in Kirk's voice. "Were we less successful, we might indeed be permitted to concentrate on exploration. Unless you wish the Enterprise to lose her reputation as an extremely efficient vessel, you must accept these little inconveniences."

"Little!" Despite himself, Kirk laughed. "Yes, I suppose they are. Trust you to put things into perspective, my friend."

"Remember," Sgrral cautioned his underlings. "No member of any Federation tribe possesses a tail." A picture flashed onto the screen in front of him. "This pattern worn on the sleeves of Starship uniforms indicates the Captain. He is the senior officer on the ship we will be travelling on, and commands all the others." The picture changed. "This pattern indicates the Captain's immediate subordinates - if the Captain is equivalent to me, his immediate subordinates are of rank equivalent to Vrrak."

There was a murmur of acknowledgement from the assembled Ubarrak. "However, as I understand it, there is some degree of responsibility carried by certain of those wearing this pattern that the others do not possess. Among themselves, those of the Federation understand this and who possesses that responsibility. It will probably be best if we assume that all those wearing this pattern are of equal status. The next pattern - " a third pattern flashed onto the screen - "is more complex. I understand there is a considerable disparity in status among the wearers of this pattern. Some have much authority over even the others who wear this symbol; they are, in fact, in the position of Secretaries such as Rroval - at least, that is the nearest I can come to understanding it. We must be careful not to offend. You understand, it would be easy to give offence without intending to, without even realising that we were giving it. The ship coming for us will be crewed predominantly by Humans, I understand. Their facial expressions tell what they are thinking, for those who can read such expressions. This - " another picture - " is a smile. It varies in degree from a slight upward curling of the mouth at the corners to a parting of the lips such as this, which closely resembles a snarl. It indicates pleasure."

Brrbrr, a nervous Junior Secretary whose tail was carried permanently between her legs, shivered. Sgrral noticed the shiver, and wondered if it was not too late to replace her. But he knew that it was. This group had been selected as the most suitable for the mission, and Brrbrr's knowledge of Terran - she could read it fluently although it was impossible for her to speak it - might be of considerable importance. It was a pity her attainment had not improved her self-confidence. He liked his underlings to show proper respect, but not to the degree of Brrbrr's fawning obsequiousness. Fortunately, the Terrans would not realise how extreme her attitude was. He would have preferred a male 'interpreter' - but no male had had Brrbrr's ability with Terran. She was a mere schoolgirl, too, barely adolescent...

Sgrral looked round. "Are there any questions'?"

"Do all Terrans carry one of these patterned marks on their sleeves?" Drakk, his Adviser's Undersecretary asked.

"I understand there are some who do not," he said. "These are of the lowest rank, but again, there are degrees of seniority, I believe the word is. You cannot assume that because a Terran carries no pattern on his sleeve, that he is completely subordinate. It might be best to assume that the lowest ranking of them is equal at least to an Undersecretary." Sgrral knew that Drakk was inclined to bully those subordinate to him, and he did not believe that a Starship Captain would take kindly to one of his more subordinate visitors trying to bully any of his crew. "In addition, once we are off the Starship, we will be unable to depend on visual indications of seniority, and I have no information on how we will be able to identify rank."

"Must we mix with these Terrans?" Rrovral asked.

"It is probably unnecessary, yet it would be an ideal opportunity for us to observe members of the Federation in their everyday lives. I make no orders on this. If you wish to socialise with them, I see no harm; if you prefer to devote your time to working on our presentation to the Federation High Council, you are at liberty to do so."

Rrovral subsided, his tail drooping slightly. No, the wily old dog had made no order, but Rrovral knew well enough that the presentation had already been thoroughly gone over by the top Ubarr government officials and it would certainly be counted presumptuous for any mere secretary to go over it as if it had been compiled by a Junior Secretary like Brrbrr.

Sgrral looked round again. "Are there any more questions?"

There were none, and the Ubar Ambassador growled with satisfaction. "Very well. You are sure you all remember the patterns? Drakk?"

"The Captain wears two bands with a broken band between them. His immediate subordinates wear two bands. The next rank carries one band, but there may be some of them who are senior to the others, with nothing to indicate which they are."

"Very good. You will meet here at dawn tomorrow. Dismissed."

The Ubarrak diplomatic group waited politely until Sgrral had left, then headed towards the door in strict order of rank. At last only Drakk and Brrbrr were left. She watched the Undersecretary nervously as he approached her. His ears pricked thoughtfully as he studied her. "You are going to be nice to me on this trip, aren't you, my dear?" he asked sweetly, but with an undertone of menace in his voice. She shuddered at it, but forced herself to say,

"You are already mated. What will your mate say?"

Drakk growled softly, deep in his throat. "She will not dare say anything, my dear. Indeed, she will probably be happy that I have not desired her to accompany me, as I could have done. You see, I knew you would be there, my dear - and you do want to be nice to me... don't you?"

She looked at him, eyes bright with fear, then, forgetting his right as a more dominant Ubar to precede her, she turned and darted out of the room.

He followed slowly, tongue lolling out in atavistic satisfaction. As he reached the stairs, he closed his mouth politely, well aware that if he was seen indulging such animal behaviour he would, even at this late date, be removed from the Ambassadorial party. And that would never do.

He had his own plans for the future-and they did not entirely coincide with Sgrral's...

"Welcome aboard the Enterprise, Ambassador." James Kirk made no attempt to pronounce the Ubar Ambassador's name even although he knew the translator would correct any minor errors in his pronunciation.

"You honour us, Captain." Sgrral knew that the 'i' sound in the Captain's name would be unpronounceable; he also chose to omit the name.

"This is my First Officer, Mr. Wood; Chief Medical Officer, Dr. McCoy; Science Officer Spock; Chief Engineer Scott." Kirk had debated including Sulu, Chekov and Uhura, but had decided not to - it would be difficult enough for the Ubarrak to remember the five of them apart - well, the four of them if Spock's ears could be taken as an identifying feature. He knew that he was going to find it difficult to tell the Ubarrak apart, although the Ambassador was distinguished by a touch of grey round the muzzle.

Sgrral turned to his party. "My adviser, Vrrak," he introduced. "Also Rrovral, Chief Secretary."

Kirk inclined his head politely, wondering if the Ubarrak would recognise the intent behind the gesture. Two pairs of ears pricked forward, and Kirk groaned silently. Not that he hadn't experienced this problem before; most greetings are stylised by custom going so far back that no anthropologist could even begin to trace their origins. The Ubarrak's stylised greetings, however, were dictated by the use of muscles which in Humans had atrophied into complete disuse, if indeed they had ever existed.

"Mr. Wood will show you to your quarters, sir," Kirk continued, "while I take the ship out of orbit. I will be available to take you on a tour of the ship, if you wish one, an hour from now."

"I would indeed be interested to see around your ship," Sgrral said. "Is welcome."

Uh--oh. A phrase the translators had fallen down on, giving the closest meaning they could to the spoken words.

"If you would come this way, gentlemen," Wood said.

Kirk watched them go, slightly disturbed by the way that the last member of the party to leave carried his tail between his legs. It was some time before he discovered that several of the party were females.

He entered the bridge and stopped dead. "What the - What the devil is causing that smell?"

"We don't know, sir," Sulu replied as he rose from the command chair. "It's coming from Life Support, but they can't discover what's causing it."

"It's like sulphuretted hydrogen," Lt. Seval put in from the science console.

"A good old-fashioned stink bomb," Kirk translated. "Can't Life Support do anything to clear it?"

"They say not, sir - they say their circuits are clear."

"Well, we can't work in this stench. Chekov, Seval, Uhura, go down to Auxiliary Control and take over from there. The rest of us will join you as soon as you've secured your positions."

"Aye, sir." The three retreated thankfully.

When the report came through that Auxiliary Control was operative, Kirk, with a sigh of relief, gave the order to vacate the Bridge. He let the others go on towards Auxilary Control, while he headed for Life Support.

There, he found everyone checking and double-checking their consoles. It was a scene of activity that should have gladdened any irate commander's heart, but it did nothing for Kirk's temper.

Lt. Prohaska came over to him. "I'm sorry, sir, there's nothing to indicate where that smell might be coming from. And we can't clear it until we find the source."

"Then I suggest you stop checking those consoles and try checking out the various access links in the system," Kirk said with deceptive quiet. He was just beginning to realise that they must have a practical joker aboard, and he didn't like the thought. There was no place on his ship for someone so irresponsible, and when he discovered which of the new crewmembers was the guilty party...

Fuming, he headed for Auxiliary.

The hour that he had mentioned to the Ubar Ambassador was nearly up before Prohaska reported to him that the stink bomb had been found. It had been planted in the last access link before the Bridge, and was a slow-working kind, designed to emit fumes over a period of some hours. There was no indication of who had planted it. Kirk was not surprised.

He glanced round the command crew. "Well, that's the stink bomb found, but Life Support haven't cleared the air in the bridge yet. Once they report they have, you can go back there. If I'm wanted, I'll be showing the Ubar Ambassador round the ship." He paused at the turbolift door. "Mr. Sulu, you have the con."

"Aye, sir."

He found Spock waiting in the corridor assigned to the Ubarrak delegation, and paused. "You wanted something, Mr. Spock?"

"Captain, should you warn the Ambassador that someone aboard the Enterprise has a sense of humour that is warped, even for a Human?"

"Even for a Human? Prejudiced, Spock?"

"Captain, you must admit that the Human sense of humour is frequently somewhat... bizarre."

"Well, yes, I suppose it is. As for warning the Ubarrak... I hadn't thought of it. Do you really consider it necessary?"

"I am not sure. I have no doubt that in time we will discover who among the new crewmembers has a penchant for causing unpleasant smells, but until that happens, he could easily make a considerable nuisance of himself."

"I've been trying not to think of that. I don't think I'll say anything to Sigral just yet... but meanwhile, why don't you have a word with McCoy? Go over the psych profiles of all the new crew, see if any of them show anything out of the ordinary."

"Very well, Captain."

Kirk watched the Vulcan disappear round a bend in the corridor, then buzzed at Sgrral's door.

Spock found McCoy already deep in an investigation of psychological profiles. He glanced up as the Science Officer entered. "Yes, Spock. What can I do for you?"

"You seem to have begun already. You heard about the incident on the bridge?"

"By now I reckon everyone has."

"The person responsible must be one of the new crewmembers."

McCoy nodded. "It seems fairly obvious. But - " he indicated the profiles he had been studying - "nothing here shows any tendency towards practical joking. Two of the men show a higher extrovert rating than I'm happy about - I've always understood that blatant extroverts were always assigned to Starbases where it was easier for everyone else to get away from them. I mean, Jim's bete noir Finnegan at the Academy - I did some checking up on him, and he was assigned to Starbase 17, although from his ratings otherwise he'd have made a top engineer. But neither of these fellas shows any inclination towards practical joking. Right enough, I think I've spotted them - they were doing a 'funny man' act in the rec room a couple of nights ago, and give them their due, they were good; exhibitionists, maybe, but they seemed to want to be the life and soul of the party rather than sneak jokers. This boy looks more like someone that gets his kicks out of knowing he's causing mischief, even though nobody else knows it's him."

Spock considered the statement. "Mischief?" he queried.

"Yes. A stink bomb is a nuisance, an inconvenience, but hardly dangerous - at least, under normal circumstances, though I shudder to think what the consequences would have been if an emergency had arisen while Jim was moving command to Auxiliary Control. It's a schoolboy type 'joke'... Maybe I should be looking for signs of immaturity."

"The Captain would certainly be gratified if you could discover anything definite, Doctor. Is there anything I can do to assist you?"

McCoy shook his head. "I don't think so, Spock, thanks. How can I tell you what to look for when I don't know myself?" He sighed. "It's typical you know. If we'd picked up two or three new crew, it would have been easier to pinpoint one of them; but did we pick up two or three? No. We picked up twenty-seven, that's how many we picked up. And were any of those twenty-seven assigned to Life Sciences, the most obvious one to check out for this particular 'joke'? No. This lad's cunning, Spock."

Spock frowned slightly. "I believe I can follow your logic - for once. You think that any future tricks he perpetrates will be aimed at places where it will be difficult to assign blame, so that he can remain 'lost in the crowd'?"

"I could almost guarantee it."

"Seval and I could meld with all the new crew members - " Spock began.

"If we can't find him any other way, we might have to take you up on that," McCoy said. "But I wouldn't ask it of you just yet, Spock, and I'm sure Jim wouldn't either. It's not as if he was endangering the ship."

They were interrupted by the door opening. Kirk entered, escorting four Ubarrak - the grey-muzzled Sgrral, one that Spock decided was Vrrak - his facial hair seemed fractionally lighter than most, Spock thought - and two who had certainly been in the group who had not been introduced. Sgrral's tail was carried high, almost at right angles to his body; Vrrak's almost as high. The other two were held low - certainly lower, Spock decided, than Rrovral's had been, and he wondered why these two should be included in the tour when Rrovral was not. Later he discovered that these were the mates of Sgrral and Vrrak; of low status, as all females were, but granted certain privileges because of the high rank of their mates.

McCoy moved across to greet them politely and Spock dropped back beside Kirk while the Doctor explained as concisely as he could the purpose of the diagnostic beds.

In a low voice he repeated the gist of his conversation with McCoy, and Kirk frowned.

"He's right about one thing, Spock - I won't let you or Seval meld with all those people unless there's no alternative and the safety of the ship is at stake." He thought for a moment. "I wonder if one of his extroverts is still the joker, carrying out a double bluff?"

"Captain?"

"Acting up, getting himself noticed... so that it's so obvious to suspect him that nobody does."

Spock considered the explanation. "Humans can be very devious at times," he sighed.

"I think the best thing to do right now is - apparently - ignore it. He'll know he caused some trouble, of course - that's unavoidable - but a practical joker gets half of his fun out of the furore he causes. Not getting any official notice would be quite galling to him. And we'll continue to ignore his little games in the hope of drawing him out, encouraging him to be just a little careless."

"And if he plays some trick on the Ubarrak, Captain?"

"That could be awkward. If that happens, I'll throw the book at the entire crew - yes, I know that's unfair, but crew reaction would be so obviously against him that I think he would get the message. And the Ubarrak would be appeased - at the moment that's the most important point."

McCoy returned the visitors to Kirk, who ushered them towards the door. As they went, Sgrral said, "Is welcome, Doctor."

As the party left, McCoy glanced at Spock. "What would you say that meant, Mr. Spock?"

Spock's eyebrow lifted. "I assume he meant to say 'Thank you'."

Drakk left Brrbrr's room with a satisfied smirk on his face. The young, terrified junior had indeed 'been nice to him' and her unwillingness had added spice to his pleasure.

He turned a corner and almost bumped into a Human crewman busily occupied with a brush outside Sgrral's door. The Human jumped, almost unduly startled.

Drakk remembered his orders. It would do no harm to adhere to them - for the moment.

"My apologies," he said, albeit ungraciously.

"0h, that's all right. I didn't expect to see anyone around this late." It was difficult to detect tones of voice in the even, translated voice, but Drakk's sensitive ears could find no trace of embarrassment in the Human voice.

"You are working late," he commented, only mildly curious since it seemed the man had the right to be there.

"Yes, there are some jobs that have to be done during ship's night, like this painting one. I thought your party would all have been asleep by now."

Drakk allowed a note of amusement to creep into his voice. "Not all of us are accompanied by our mates. And if a young and pretty Junior is willing..." He allowed his voice to trail off suggestively.

The Human bared his teeth in the snarl that Sgrral had said denoted amusement. "You've been enjoying yourself?" the Human asked. "Me, now, I find a bit of a fight adds spice. Makes me feel more dominant, like; more of a man."

Drakk decided that this Human - he wore no pattern on his sleeves - must be of low status, yet ambitious. "How long have you been on this ship?" he asked. The answer might be quite informative, give him some insight into these Humans.

"Oh, I'm newly qualified - I joined the ship two or three weeks ago."

"So you are still quite young?"

"I'm twenty three." This time he sounded defensively insulted.

Twenty three? Twenty three was... almost revered ancient! But... "What is the Human life span?" he asked shrewdly.

"Hundred to hundred and twenty."

Ah. By comparison, he would be perhaps four by Ubar standards. Newly adult, like Drakk himself. So - Humans, like Ubarrak, had a status hierarchy that went by age as well as strength.

A half plan was dawning in his mind. It would do no harm to cultivate this young Human... "So long?" he asked as if awed. And indeed, he was slightly awed. A hundred... That was practically immortality!

The Human stared at him. "How long do your people live, then?" he asked.

"The Ambassador is twenty five, and he is very old. He should have retired almost a year ago, but he refuses to admit his age. I wouldn't expect him to live for more than another few months."

"Twenty five?" the Human whispered. "We've barely fully qualified then! How old are you?"

"I am nearly four years old," Drakk told him.

The Human had heard ship's gossip that the Ubarrak were of canine descent. Apparently this extended - approximately - to their life spans, four to five times less than Human. Amazing how superior it made him feel. The Ubar seemed friendly, too; memories of the First Officer's general lecture on how they should behave towards their passengers flashed through his mind, and in the same moment he dismissed them as so much diplomatic hot air. This Ubar was like a friendly dog - by God, it would make the Captain and First Officer sit up if he was seen going around with one of them! And that blasted science officer, too... "What's your name?" he asked.

"Drakk. What's yours?"

"Rivas. Ensign Carlos Rivas." He shrugged. "I haven't been assigned to a department yet - for the moment I'm still in the Maintenance squad. I'm hoping to get into Life Support."

"Ah. I am an Undersecretary. It is a good position, and one day I will be in line for an Ambassadorship." No need to mention that at his age he should still be a Junior Secretary. He had been fortunate. "Of course, until now all our Ambassadors have been involved only in intra-planet diplomacy; it would be good to be Ambassador for Ubarr on another world."

"Yeah, I know what you mean. I could have got work on Earth no bother, and with a lot less effort than getting through Starfleet Academy - even though I didn't specialise in anything there. The ones who specialise have to do an extra year, sometimes even two. But I wanted to get off Earth, see a bit more of the Universe."

Drakk yawned cavernously. He had had a long day, and so much had been happening that he had missed his mid-afternoon nap; bed was beginning to seem most attractive. "I regret, friend Rrvas - I have had a busy day, and I grow weary. However, I would like to talk with you again - I think we have many opinions we could exchange to our mutual benefit. When can I see you again?"

"Well, I'm on night duty," Rivas said. "I come off duty 0700 hours tomorrow morning. Some of the fellows on night duty stay up then, go to bed in the early afternoon, and get up in time to go on duty again. Me, I prefer to go to bed then, get up mid-afternoon and have some off-duty time when I'm wide awake. I'm free till 2100 hours."

"Whereas I will be attending to my duties until..." Drakk hesitated while he converted Ubar time to ship's time... "1800 hours."

"Say we meet up at 1900 hours, then, in rec room three?" It was the biggest of the rec rooms, the one where he would be most noticed. "That'd give you time to eat."

Drakk sniffed carefully, committing the Human's scent to memory. "1900 hours in rec room three," he repeated. He knew he would stand no chance of remembering the man from his appearance, and suspected that the opposite might well also be true. However, despite Sgrral's implied order that they fraternise with the Humans, it was unlikely that any other of the Ubarrak would be entering rec room three at the exact same time; Rrvas would have no problem in recognising him.

It was with a certain feeling of self-satisfaction that Drakk entered his cabin. He would be seen to be obeying Sgrral's 'order' while at the same time possibly advancing his own ambition...

Rivas painted on. Monotony, relieved for a few moments while he spoke to Drakk, set in again; the Ensign began to ponder ways of relieving it once more.

The exposure was tremendous, the surface greasy and treacherous. Kirk was just reaching for the vital handhold when an alarm bell sounded, making him jump. He felt his balance going, and grabbed wildly at the rock face for something to permit him to retain it just as the alarm sounded again.

This time he identified it, and reached, suddenly wide awake and with heart beating wildly, for the intercom. "Kirk here."

"Sulu here, Captain. Sir, I just passed the Ubarrak's cabins on my way to the bridge, and someone has painted 'Good dog' on all their doors.'

Kirk drew a deep breath. That bloody practical joker! Luckily it was unlikely that any of the Ubarrak would be able to understand the words, but the sooner they were obliterated again, the better. "Get someone from Maintenance down right away to paint it out," he ordered grimly.

"Yes, sir." The intercom went dead.

Kirk punched it again. "Kirk to Wood."

There was hardly any delay. "Wood here, Captain."

"I'd like a word with you in my quarters in five minutes."

"Yes, Captain."

By the time Wood appeared, Kirk had washed. He was pulling his pants on as he said, "Our joker's struck again, Mr. Wood."

"He has?" Wood frowned.

Kirk gave him the details as he finished dressing, and the First Officer thought for a moment. "I think Maintenance is working in that part of the ship at the moment," he offered.

The Captain grunted, and returned to the intercom. "Maintenance," he said.

There was a short delay. "Maintenance - Lt. Frew, here."

"Lieutenant, what work is currently being done in the region of Deck 5, cabins 9 - 18?"

"It's being painted during the graveyard shift, sir - sorry, I mean third watch."

Kirk allowed a touch of amusement to tinge his voice. "I am aware of the term, Lieutenant - I've served my share of duty on it. Can you tell me who was working there last night?" He knew Frew would be just on duty.

"Just a moment, Captain, and I'll check the roster... Ensign Rivas, sir."

"Thank you, Lieutenant." He glanced at his chronometer. "Ensign Rivas will be off duty now," he muttered to Wood, who nodded. "I'd like a word with Mr. Rivas as soon as possible, Mr. Frew," he went on.

"He usually goes straight to bed, sir," Frew told him, and he nodded. Some men did, he knew.

"In that case I won't disturb him. But I'd like to see him as soon as he comes on duty again."

"I'll leave word for him, air."

Kirk flicked off the intercom. "I would doubt that Rivas is the guilty party," he said, half to himself. "It's too obvious. But he should be warned not to leave paint pots lying around where anyone else can get hold of them."

"Come to think of it, Captain, Mr. Rivas is one of our new crew members," Wood said. "Though from what I have seen of him, he appears to be a sensible man."

Kirk stared at him. "Not one of McCoy's pair of extroverts?" he asked anxiously.

"No, sir. They are both assigned to engineering.°'

As it happened, Rivas had not yet gone off duty, but had been promptly assigned by Lt. Coupar, just before he went off duty, to paint over the offending slogans. He did so with bitterness in his heart, knowing that Coupar suspected him of having painted them on in the first place.

When he returned to Maintenance with the paint pot, Frew intercepted him. "The very person. Rivas, the Captain wants to see you."

"Now?" He was already half an hour into overtime for which he would receive no credit, he knew; it was just hard luck if someone's watch over-ran.

"Yes, now - and he didn't sound too pleased, either."

Rivas sighed. No, the Captain probably wouldn't be too pleased - even though the slogan hadn't been insulting and the aliens probably wouldn't have been able to read it anyway.

He buzzed at the Captain's door reluctantly, and obeyed the brisk "Come!" he received in reply.

The Captain was not alone - he was checking over something with the Science Officer. Rivas shivered. Not that he had anything against Vulcans, exactly... but they looked at you as if they could see right into your head, could detect every thought... and he had already clashed once with Spock over a job that the Vulcan claimed he had skimped. And he hadn't - he had just... cut a few corners while he was doing it.

Rivas pulled himself to attention before the desk. "Ensign Rivas, sir."

Kirk nodded. "Ensign, you were painting in Deck 5 last night."

"Yes, sir."

"Did you see anyone while you were working?"

"Only one of the Ubarrak, sir. He had been visiting one of the others - one of the females - and was on his way back to his cabin."

"I see. And when you finished the job, what did you do?"

"I took the paint pot and brush back to Maintenance, sir."

"About what time would that be?"

Rivas hadn't really paid that much attention. "I'm not sure, sir. About half way through the watch."

Kirk nodded. "Very well, Ensign. That is all."

"Thank you, sir." Rivas left smartly.

Kirk gazed at the closed door. "What do you think?"

"I don't know," Spock replied slowly. "I have seen him before - I caught him performing an inadequate cleaning assignment in the science lab some ten days ago - a quantity of corrosive fluid had been dropped accidentally. He was, I consider, not best pleased at being supervised while he re-did the entire task."

The Captain grinned. "I bet he wasn't," he said, even as he thought, Thank heaven you spotted him, my friend. "Wood thinks he seems a sensible man," he said, half provocatively.

"I do not. I do not think he appreciated the danger even after I pointed it out to him, " Spock said dryly.

"Which would make him too unimaginative to be our practical joker," Kirk suggested.

Spock considered. "Does a practical joker have much imagination?"

"Depends on the scope of his pranks. Some practical jokes are quite clever - looked at objectively."

Spock merely grunted.

Kirk's hopes of a quiet trip, already low because of the practical jokes, died completely the next morning when McCoy reported to him that he had just been called to Vrrak's cabin by the Ambassador, who had been called by the Adviser's mate. Vrrak was dead - a heart attack. It was not, his mate admitted, entirely unexpected; Vrrak had had two heart attacks in the previous year but had been passed as fit for this assignment by his doctor. However, he had not felt well when he went to bed, and he had been dead when she woke in the morning. McCoy had had time for a quick examination, and had confirmed what she knew - Vrrak's heart had been unable to stand the strain or the excitement of this assignment.

After that, Kirk thought, things can only get better.

The next two days passed uneventfully. The remaining Ubarrak seemed to be anxious to mix with the Enterprise personnel. Kirk, not entirely willingly, found himself being approached constantly by Sgrral. The Ambassador's questions were intelligent, the Ubar clearly wanting to discover more about the Federation and its workings than he might do from the diplomats officially representing it, but it cut into Kirk's precious free time to an enormous extent. Whenever possible, Spock joined them and frequently directed Sgrral's questions towards himself, so that Kirk had little to do save sit with them, listening and putting in the odd word, but it was impossible for him to relax completely.

Wood, who might have helped him, seemed unaware of the demands the Ubar Ambassador was making on the Captain. Indeed, Spock was doing much of Wood's social duty while the First Officer sat in a small group composed of Ensign Rivas, Ensign Cerbah from Engineering, Lieutenants Zmuda and Lester from Security, Yeoman Schumacher and one of the Ubarrak - one of the more junior ones, to judge from the lowish angle of the tail. All were relatively new crew, Kirk noted subconsciously, and frowned slightly. It wasn't necessarily bad for discipline for the command crew to be on friendly terms with the juniors, but it wasn't all that good either... especially considering what he already knew about Rivas. He must remember to ask Scotty and Security Chief Baillie about Cerbah, Zmuda and Lester. Schumacher he knew as a conscientious enough but rather woolly-headed girl who wasn't likely to make any serious mistakes but would never be good enough for promotion either. She seemed to be making a play for Cerbah, who was certainly handsome enough, but who seemed to have little interest in her. Lester was good-looking in a brittle sort of way; Wood seemed to be paying her particular attention, and she did not seem to be averse to it. Just as long as she didn't take advantage...

Uhura had taken another Ubar under her wing - the rather delicately-built one with a tail carried so low that it was held curled between its owner's legs. Uhura seemed to be carrying most of the conversation, too.

Kirk commented on it to Uhura on the second day. The Communications Officer frowned.

"Yes. Captain, I'm not happy about the situation there. Brrbrr is very young, even by Ubar standards - just a teenager. She's been pushed into a job she's not mature enough to handle because she has a rare gift for learning languages. She reads Terran perfectly. But she doesn't have any social awareness - her entire life has been one of study... at least since her gift was discovered. Ubarrak females have only recently been emancipated - her mother's generation... well, it was unthinkable for a properly-brought-up female to work, and it's only been in the last five years or so that there have been changes. Of course, in our terms, that would be twenty to thirty years. Females are still - well - undominant, with very few exceptions; it's easy to declare sexual equality, but attitudes die hard. She doesn't know how to assert herself, and her mother certainly wasn't able to teach her. But what's really worrying me is, one of the males in her party is forcing himself onto her. She doesn't say much about it, but I gather he's older, more dominant because of that anyway, and she's terrified of him. They rely a lot on honour making their system work, and as a rule it does, but there is the odd case where someone without honour comes along - like Drakk. And Captain - Drakk is the Ubar that was with Mr. Wood last night."

Kirk knew what she meant. Uhura, too, didn't trust Wood's judgement. However, rather than encourage Uhura to say anything that could be construed as openly critical of her superior officer, he changed the subject slightly.

"You've managed to worm a lot out of this Birbir."

Uhura smiled. "It wasn't terribly easy to get her started, but once she did... Of course, she should complain to Sgrral, but she says that if she does, Drakk will find some way to punish her."

"A typical bully, in other words."

"Yes, Captain."

"Well, do what you cam to build up her confidence."

"Yes, sir."

Kirk was still thinking about this exchange when he found Sgrral waiting for him in the mess. "Good afternoon, Ambassador."

"Good hunting, Captain."

By now Kirk suspected that this was as standard and stereotyped a greeting as 'good morning', spoken for politeness and without really meaning anything. Kirk sat and pulled his tray towards him. He savoured his first mouthful of coffee. "Ah - I needed that."

He glanced round the mess; it was fairly busy, with crew just come off watch anxious for coffee, at least, even if they didn't mean to eat until later. Another Ubar was sitting talking to Lt. Masters; even as he watched, a second Ubar entered, tail held very low - though not as low as Brrbrr's - and joined the pair. "It's nice to see your people mixing with mime, Ambassador."

Sgrral gave a rumbling sound deep in his throat that sounded vaguely reassuring - the translator failed to interpret it. "My mate and Urrav's," he identified.

"They don't have an official position in your party, I understand." It was the first time the subject had arisen naturally, and it was most a propos.

"No, although of course they welcome the opportunity to see members of your Federation at close quarters, and their comments are of value to me."

"Do any of the others have their mates along?" Kirk asked casually.

"Rrovral brought his. Drakk chose not to," Sgrral said, his translated voice even more expressionless than usual.

Kirk's eyebrows lifted, as much at the lack of expression as anything else. "Surely that is unusual?" he asked.

"We were somewhat surprised," Sgrral agreed. "Ubar males tend to be possessive of their mates, and Ubar females very jealous."

Which was much the same thing, Kirk thought. "Perhaps - er - he felt he would like a little female company - outside his marriage?

Sgrral's whole body seemed to stiffen. "The very thought is an insult!" he snapped.

"Is it?" Kirk asked. "Ambassador, ask Miss Birbir what she thinks. According to my Communications Officer, Drakk has been forcing his attentions onto Birbir. And one of my ensigns on a late might assignment saw Drakk leaving a cabin where he was 'visiting' a female and returning to his own quarters."

Sgrral's jaws gaped. "Impossible!" he whispered.

"Perhaps that is why my people have seen it while you have not," Kirk suggested. "It is reprehensible, but not unknown among Humans. We have an eye for scandal which your people lack."

"Yes... I will ask Brrbrr."

"According to Uhura, she's terrified of Drakk, who is using his superior status to force her acquiescence," Kirk added helpfully.

"I will find out,°' Sgrral promised - Kirk wasn't sure whether he was promising the Human or himself that he would take action.

However, by evening the next day, nothing appeared to have been done. Kirk was pondering the situation with regard to the Ubarrak as he walked along the corridor towards his quarters. Just off duty, he intended to have a relaxing evening; a leisurely meal, then a couple of hours' chess with Spock.

And then his feet went from under him. He just had time to register that someone had left the corridor littered with something like ball-bearings before his head hit the deck with a solid thump.

Half dazed, Kirk pushed himself into a sitting position, the pounding in his head making it difficult for him to think.

Ball-bearings. He was sure of it. He ran his hands over the surface of the corridor - reaching over to investigate further afield when his first sweep detected nothing - still finding nothing.

Cautiously he scrambled to his feet to move equally cautiously towards the nearby intercom. The floor seemed good and solid this time, with nothing underfoot that should not have been there.

Lips set, he punched the intercom. "Security."

He was answered almost instantly. "Security. Duty Officer Shacter, sir."

"I want a couple of security guards to check over corridor one, deck five," he ordered. "Purpose - to find any objects on the floor that should not be there."

"Aye, sir."

If Shacter was surprised by the order he gave no sign of it. Kirk walked, still slightly hesitantly, on to his cabin.

Inside, he sank gratefully into the chair beside his desk. He still felt dizzy from the fall, slightly sick, and his left leg ached abominably where he had wrenched it.

He debated whether to call McCoy, feeling slightly silly at even considering calling for him because of a mere fall, then changed his mind. His head was pounding so badly that it needed the relief of a painkiller. The last thing he felt like doing was walking to sickbay; unsteadily still, he reached for the intercom. "Sickbay."

"McCoy here."

"Bones, can you spare a minute? I'm in my cabin. Oh - bring your little black bag."

"My... Jim, have you hurt yourself?"

"Nothing serious, but I'd appreciate a painkiller."

"I'll be the judge of whether it's serious. I'll be with you in two minutes."

He arrived in several seconds less than that, slightly out of breath. Kirk grinned. "You didn't have to run, Bones, I'm not dying."

"Hmm." McCoy cast a quick professional eye over his Captain. "What happened?"

Hesitantly, Kirk explained. McCoy pursed his lips, a worried look on his face. "Could this be our practical joker again?" he asked.

"I'm not sure," Kirk said, wincing as McCoy ran would-be gentle fingers down his leg. "Ouch!"

"Sore? Mmm. You haven't broken anything, but you've pulled a muscle. You'll ache for a day or two - though there's no serious damage done. What you do have though is a mild concussion; I'm ordering you to take it easy for a couple of days. Here will do, but if I catch you trying to go on duty, it'll be in sickbay. Understood?"

He took a bottle out of his medikit and shook a tablet out onto his hand. "Here; this'll sort the headache."

"Thanks." Gratefully, Kirk swallowed it.

McCoy shook his head enviously. "I wish I could down pills without water. Come to that, I wish more of my patients could. It's a useful ability at times."

Kirk grinned slightly. "Considering what the water on board tastes like, I don't blame you."

"It's perfectly pure... " McCoy said.

Kirk's grin widened at the doubtful note in the doctor's voice. "I keep trying to tell myself it's all my imagination because I know it's recycled," he admitted, "and I don't convince myself very well."

"I don't even try," McCoy admitted. "It tastes foul, and that's all there is to it."

"The price we pay for having a career in Starfleet," Kirk commented, relieved to feel the dwarves who had been trying to hammer a hole through his skull lessen their attempts. "Are those new pills you've got?"

"Acting already, are they? Yes. I got a batch last Starbase, but you're the first guinea-pig to get one. Their use is restricted to specific pains, and we've had a trouble-free flight since... if you discount practical jokers and aliens with weak hearts."

The intercom buzzed, and Kirk leaned over to it. "Kirk here."

"Lt. Shacter, sir. We can't find anything in the corridor that shouldn't be there."

"Nothing at all?" Kirk sounded slightly incredulous.

"There were a couple of ball-bearings beside the wall, but you'll often get the odd ball-bearing lying around."

"Yes, of course... Thank you, Mr. Shacter." He flicked the intercom off, and looked up at McCoy. "Ball-bearings," he said.

"So?"

"Two ball--bearings."

Understanding dawned on McCoy's face. "You wouldn't have skidded on just two of them. What happened to the others?"

"Yes. What happened to the others? I must have been out for a few minutes - long enough for whoever scattered the things to come back and clean them up. Which also means that he must have been close, probably watching."

"I could have been right. This could have been our joker."

"Yes." Kirk's voice was grim. "And I don't like it. Something like a stink bomb is bad and bad enough, but it's a childish prank, does no actual damage, just causes a helluva lot of bother. This was downright dangerous. Someone could have been seriously injured."

"He probably got quite a fright when he realised his victim was the Captain," McCoy suggested. "Maybe it'll teach him a lesson."

"I hope so." If anything, Kirk's voice became even grimmer. "Bones - don't say anything about this. Keep your ears open. See if anyone shows any sign of knowing about it. Word'll get round that I ordered a search of an empty corridor; only the culprit is going to know why."

McCoy nodded. "I'll do that. Now, time you forgot about work; relax, try to forget about the ship. We'll manage for a few hours with Wood in the command chair."

Kirk made a face. "I suppose so." It would be so much easier if he trusted the man more.

McCoy watched him settle down with a book, and left. He studied the floor carefully as he went - but like the security guards, he found nothing.

*****

"I want a report," Kirk said grimly, "on the new personnel." He looked round the section heads accusingly.

The Chief Engineer shrugged. "All the Engineering staff are good at their work," he replied simply. "The two 'song and dance' men are particularly good - though nobody likes working with them. They get a bit wearing after a wee while, and that's the truth. But all that you can say against them is that all that concentrated extrovertness gets very tiring. Irritating. Distracting, even. It could make someone careless - but there's a long mile between carelessness and deliberate..." He broke off, unable to think of a word that suitably expressed his opinion of practical jokes.

"Thank you, Mr. Scott," said Kirk. "Mr. Sulu?"

"Well, I only got two new men in my department. They're both good solid dependable types; I don't think either of them is the kind to think about practical jokes - in fact, I get the impression that one of them at least is rather low on sense of humour."

"Any chance that he's running a complicated bluff?" Kirk asked suspiciously.

"No, I'd back Sulu on that," McCoy put in. "I know the man he means; almost too serious for his own good. He swings almost too much towards introversion; a little further and he'd be almost depressive."

"Mr. Baillie?"

The Security Chief shook his head. "Like Mr. Sulu, I didn't get many," he said. "I got three - one with this last batch and two when we were at Benecia a few weeks ago. Zmuda is a cheerful sort of guy - likes socialising, but his sense of humour seems to stop short at the dirty joke level. Strang is too busy chasing Yeoman Colt in his off-duty hours to think about anything else, and Lester has her eye on promotion already. I think she sees herself as the ship's next Security Chief."

"Do you?" Kirk asked curiously.

Baillie grinned, then said seriously, "Not unless she stops sticking her neck out. She's young enough to mistake recklessness for courage. She's not your man, Captain; she's a career officer, and not one to do anything as stupid as play practical jokes."

Kirk grunted. "Spock?"

"Only one new member of staff joined me, Captain, and she has been slow to 'find her feet', I believe is the expression. She appears to be very shy."

"So you discount her?"

"Yes, sir."

"Miss Uhura?"

"I'm sorry, sir; none of the personnel assigned to my department stands out. Yeoman Schumacher is the only one I've noticed at all, and though it is for negative reasons, they're not the right ones."

"So what's wrong with her?"

"I'd say she joined Starfleet for the wrong reasons. She's looking for a husband, and doesn't have any real interest in her work."

"In that case we'll recommend her for transfer as soon as possible. Mr. Wood? "

"I haven't noticed many of the new crew particularly," he said. "I've spoken to one or two in the rec room on occasion, of course... As Mr. Baillie says, Lt. Zmuda is a lover of slightly off-colour jokes, and indeed knows a great many, though he does temper the ones he tells when there are any female crew in his audience. I've spoken to Cerbah from Engineering, too - he's another one for dirty jokes. The only other ones I've had anything to do with are Ensign Rivas - I think he has potential if we could only find the most suitable department for him - he's interested in Life Sciences, and I think we could try to slot him in there as soon as there's a vacancy - Yeoman Schumacher and Lt. Lester. Miss Schumacher is harmless; not very clever, but I think Uhura is being a bit hard on her."

"I'm not sure," Kirk said thoughtfully. "I noticed her myself, one day, and it did seem to me that her mind was very much on Cerbah. Go on."

"As for Miss Lester - now she is potentially brilliant, and I can't understand why she's wasting her time in Security."

"You don't agree with Mr. Baillie, then?"

"What, that she's reckless? No, sir, I do not. I think she is possibly the most outstanding of our new personnel."

"That's quite a testimonial." Kirk knew that he would be more impressed if it had been made by anyone other than Wood. As it was, he noted it with a touch of scepticism, feeling that Baillie's more astringent comment was probably more accurate. Wood was too inclined to let his own feelings rule his reaction to someone, and would certainly mistake recklessness for bravery if he liked the crewman. Momentarily, he wondered if Wood was sleeping with her; from the ruthless assessment Baillie had made about her, it didn't seem unlikely.

"So none of you can come up with any possible suspects for our mystery 'joker'," Kirk said.

His senior staff looked at each other. Nobody answered. "Very well, gentlemen. Dismissed."

Spock and McCoy both remained behind when the others left. Kirk looked from one to the other, well aware that his First Officer should be the one to be here offering a helping shoulder to his worried Captain. But Wood never did seem to think of anything like that.

"Any ideas?" he asked gloomily.

"Nothing useful," McCoy muttered dolefully.

A flashing light on his console drew Sulu's attention; he pressed the button to extend his desk viewer and checked it as soon as it was fully extended. "Mr. Wood," he said, "we're heading into an ion storm. Magnitude... three at the fringe... possibly as strong as magnitude six at its heart."

Wood looked round towards the science station, but Spock was not there; the console stood empty, and he remembered that the science officer was currently checking over some test results. With a muttered "Damn," at the waste of time, he said, "Red alert, Uhura - and call Mr. Spock to the bridge."

"Yes, sir." She gave no indication that she considered the second part of the order superfluous. As soon as the red alert sounded, Spock would automatically head for the bridge.

In the event, Kirk arrived along with the Vulcan, who had actually been reporting to him when the alert sounded. As Spock headed for his station, Kirk snapped, "What's the trouble, Mr. Wood?"

"Ion storm, sir." No need to add that he was waiting for Spock's report before deciding whether to alter course or not. He made no attempt to hand command over to Kirk; he knew that the Captain was off duty on McCoy's orders, whatever his superior officer might think about those orders at this precise moment.

"Storm strengthening," Spock reported. "Now magnitude four." He glanced over towards the command chair. "Recommend altering course to avoid the heart of the storm, sir."

"Mr. Sulu - " Wood began. The Enterprise jolted; once, twice, again. The lights dimmed, flickered, and brightened once more; flickered again as the ship jolted yet again, more violently this time, sending those of the crew who had not fastened their restraints flying, and steadied to light up a scene of tangled arms and legs.

Crew personnel picked themselves up and scrambled back to their posts. Kirk sat where he had fallen, seeing no point in getting up in order to stand while his second in command occupied the command chair.

"Report!" Wood snapped.

The reports began coming in. Damage minimal... no serious injuries...

Spock straightened from his science console even as Sulu glanced up towards the viewscreen with a worried frown. "Sir," he said, an odd note to his voice. "There is no longer any indication of an ion storm... and the star patterns do not match any that we have in the computer records, let alone the one that was showing a moment ago."

"What - " Kirk twisted to his feet, the ache in his leg, intensified by the fall, instantly forgotten. He reached the science console while Wood was still assimilating the information.

Spock made way for him; he bent over the viewer. Finally he straightened. "Navigation - "

"Sorry, sir," Chekov said apologetically. He, too, was bent industriously over his console. "No immediate point of reference - and there's a blank in the navigational record."

"A blank? What do you mean, a blank?"

"One of the readouts seems to be jammed, sir - it's giving our position as - well - where it ought to be. We don't have any record of our change of course and position."

"Do you mean to say we're lost?" Kirk demanded.

"That would appear to be the case," Spock replied soberly.

Kirk looked round his department heads, noting the worried expressions on all the faces except Spock's... but then Spock would look just as unconcerned in the face of a charging lion. Or - remembering the little he knew of Vulcan wild life - a charging le-matya.

"Well, gentlemen? Any speculation?" He forbore to add, "Any ideas how to find out where we are?" knowing that Navigation was already working on that. Almost unconsciously, he found himself looking towards the Science Officer; equally unconsciously, so did most of the others, so that when Spock, who had been studying the report in front of him, looked up, it was to see many eyes fixed on him.

"I can only assume that it is a side effect of the ion storm," he said, his voice slightly doubtful. "Very little is known about such storms, but ionic power has long been postulated as the most efficient potential energy source possible, should we ever learn to harness it. The storm was increasing in violence with every passing second; it is more than likely that some freak effect of it possibly transported us over a considerable distance."

"Is that possible?" McCoy queried unhappily. Kirk glanced at him, wondering if the Doctor was losing his nerve.

"I know you profess to distrust almost everything mechanical, Doctor," Spock said dryly, causing a slight chuckle to ripple round the table. "But an ion storm hardly qualifies as 'something mechanical'. With ions, almost anything is theoretically possible."

"So that if the boffins ever come up with a practical ion drive, the ships it powers could very well end up light years from where they're supposed to be?"

"Obviously, Doctor, if the 'boffins', as you call them, come up with a practical ion drive, it will be practical and such mishaps would not occur."

Kirk grinned, knowing now that his friends were deliberately trying to lighten the mood of the meeting. Worried men could not think straight. "Well, shall we assume, then, that the ion storm acted as a transporter - at least until we learn differently?" he asked. Nods from all round the table assented, and he went on. "Navigation, what is being done to ascertain our position?"

"We are comparing the brightest stars in the area with our star charts to see if any of them are present in our charts, even as faint stars. Even although the computer works very fast, it will take some days before everything is checked.

"If that fails, we'll have to try again using the farthest away stars from here, and see if any of them match stars in our charts."

"We can't just hang here while we do that," Kirk commented. "I propose selecting a nearby solar system and orbiting a planet there while these checks are carried out."

"Agreed," McCoy put in. "It would give the off-duty personnel a chance for some time off, if we could find a nice uninhabited planet."

"What about the Ubarrak, Captain?" Uhura asked.

Kirk glanced at her. "What about the Ubarrak?"

"What are we going to tell them?"

"Oh. Good point. We can only tell them the truth - that accidents do happen, we're trying to find our way home... and apologise for the inconvenience to them." He shrugged. "It'll be a good way of letting them see how we operate in an emergency."

"Assuming that they don't take the delay as a mortal insult," Wood said. He sounded gloomy.

"I doubt Sigral is that intolerant," Kirk protested.

"I know he seems O.K. - but I've been talking to one of the others, and according to him, Sigral is quite well-known on Ubar for the shortness of his temper."

"Which one?" Uhura demanded, forgetting the respect due to a superior officer, and speaking with an abruptness that was almost rude.

"I can't remember his name, but he was with Ensign Rivas the other night."

"That would be Drakk," Uhura said slowly, pointedly, to Kirk. He nodded, understanding what she meant. What they knew about Drakk did not incline him to trust anything the Ubar said.

He debated mentioning this, and decided against it, remembering yet again what he had always thought about Wood - that he was a competent officer but too inclined to be swayed by whether or not he liked someone. Obviously he had liked Drakk, who had probably gone out of his way to please - in Kirk's experience, bullies were usually anxious to please those in a position of authority, and he was pretty certain to recognise Wood as being in such a position.

He frowned to himself, wondering just what was in Drakk's mind. Why was he trying to undermine the Humans' opinion of Sigral? He wasn't in a position to replace the Ambassador, should his superior be discredited in any way, which would be the most likely reason in a ruthless society. But from what Uhura had told him, this was a race that depended largely on honour. Such a race was not one to be ruthless... at least in such a way.

He looked round. "Does anyone have anything further to say?" he asked. There was a brief silence broken by Spock. "Does the Science department have permission to make studies, Captain?"

"Of course, Mr. Spock." Kirk knew the Vulcan's inquisitive nature only too well, and also the urge to learn that he had instilled into the science department in the eighteen months he had been on board. His initial temporary appointment had been made permanent very quickly, and in the past six months two of the three other Vulcans who had come aboard with him had been transferred to positions of authority on other ships. Seval, the third, could have been promoted also, but had preferred to remain with Spock.

"Anything else?" When there was no reply, Kirk flicked on the intercom. "Bridge - Lomax, what are the co-ordinates of the nearest solar system?"

After a short silence, the filtered voice sounded. "285 mark 6, sir."

"Set course for it, Mr. Lomax," Kirk ordered. "Long range scan in operation as soon as we come within scanning range. I want an uninhabited planet if possible, but if that's not possible, an uninhabited region of a habited planet."

"Aye, sir.

As Kirk flicked off the intercom, he said, "Thank you, gentlemen."

As the assembled officer began to file out, Kirk realised that - as so often happened - Spock was holding back. As the last man left and the door slid shut, Kirk asked, "What's wrong, Spock?"

"Have you considered the possibility that we will not be able to find our way back to our own area of space? We cannot travel - say - five hundred light years then try again - we could very well be headed in the wrong direction. Indeed, the odds are that we would be travelling in the wrong direction."

"I've been trying not to think of that," Kirk said ruefully. "I don't think we could have been thrown that far, though."

"The one thing I have learned since joining the Enterprise is that anything can happen in space, and frequently does," Spock said quietly.

"I know," Kirk said gloomily. "There's also a law which is known by any number of names, but 'Murphy's Law' is possibly the commonest - in any given situation, if something can go wrong, it does - usually at the most inconvenient time."

Spock considered that. It held a somewhat cynical note, he felt... but it was not without a certain shrewd wisdom. Yet... "It is only when it is inconvenient that one notices and remembers that something went wrong," he suggested.

"I suppose that does help one remember it," Kirk conceded. "But haven't you ever noticed that when things are going well, everything seems to go well? And once it starts to go badly, it all goes badly?"

Spock considered the statement, and nodded, albeit reluctantly. "I am forced to admit, Captain, that you are correct. Once things start to go wrong, it does seem as if everything goes wrong."

"Like a conspiracy - or as another Earth saying has it, the innate cussedness of inanimate objects."

"Inanimate objects, by their very nature... " Spock began, then seeing the laughter in Kirk's eyes, paused. How often had he heard McCoy mutter, 'Damned machines. Never work when you want them to' - and it was true, so often it was the very machine one wanted that chose that precise time to malfunction. Chose? He was getting as bad as the Humans! He allowed a half smile to dawn. "Yes," he agreed. "Machines have no intelligence, no feelings... yet sometimes they do react as if they do."

"Humans have always been sure they have," Kirk commented. "Men like Scotty, for example - to him, his engines are living creatures, children to be looked after, cared for. Men like him have always seemed to be able to get that much more than the best performance out of a machine. Just as some Humans have 'green fingers' and can get literally any plant to grow well for them."

Spock nodded agreement. "My mother is like that," he said. "Her garden flourishes always, while others, with technically skilled gardeners employed in them, wither... at least, if conditions are adverse." He half smiled again, reminiscently. "She even manages to grow some Earth plants - the heat-tolerant ones, of course; even she cannot persuade cold-loving plants to flourish."

Kirk sighed, and stretched. "God, I wish this trip was over! That we could find a source of reference within the hour and get home quickly. I don't fancy the thought of being stuck here in unknown space for the rest of our lives with these Ubarrak diplomats."

"I consider the chances of our being so fortunate as - "

"Don't say it, Spock. I don't really think I want to know." The intercom buzzed and Kirk crossed to it. "Kirk here."

"Chekov, Captain. We are just approaching the solar system. There are three planets within the ecosphere; one is just at the outer limit and appears to be desert, one is at the inner limit and has an oxygen/nitrogen atmosphere, but the temperatures are between 400 and 500 Celsius. The middle planet is nicely situated, just like Earth, has a wide range of temperatures... but Captain, we get intelligent life form readings. Status - apparently 7 on Richter's scale of cultures."

"Damn. O.K., Chekov. See if you can find us a nice lonely spot with not too extreme a temperature. Once you find one, lock the sensors onto it so that we get early warning of any natives likely to be entering it."

"Aye, sir." He paused for a second, and added, "The readings are humanoid... not Human, but close."

Kirk nodded to himself, not particularly surprised. There seemed to be a preponderance of humanoid types of varying closeness to the Human norm throughout this section of the galaxy. Vulcanoid races were the next most common. Nobody had ever been able to explain why, although many treatises had been written on the subject. Those intelligent races that did not have similarities to Humans or Vulcans were mostly biped and mammalian too, even though some were of obviously reptilian origin or... He cut the train of thought off as unrewarding. "Divergent enough not to make any mistakes?" he asked.

"Aye, sir." The reply was immediate, and the Captain relaxed. If Chekov was that confident, he did not need to worry.

"Carry on, Mr. Chekov." He switched off, glanced at Spock. "Well, my friend. There you have it. A nice inhabited - fairly advanced - planet to survey. There is one thing," he added almost to himself. "We want to avoid contact if possible, but at least this world is advanced enough that we're unlikely to do much damage if contact is inadvertently made."

Chekov's report, when it finally came, was quite reassuring. "We've found a nice spot, Captain. It's in the southern hemisphere, the centre of a large land mass that is fairly sparsely populated. It appears to be a region of open woodland with plenty of water and wild animals. It's mountainous, which probably explains why nobody has settled there. All the centres of population in this land mass are round the coastal areas, extending not more than fifty miles inland."

Kirk studied the image in the viewscreen. "Looks like this planet's version of Australia," he commented, "except that there are no primitive native inhabitants." He glanced over at Spock. "I'd like someone on your staff to do a scan of the wild life of the other continents, with a view, later, of comparing them with that of this continent."

"Yes, Captain." Spock did not entirely understand the Human's reference to 'Australia', but that hardly mattered. Presumably he knew what he was talking about and had a logical reason for asking for such a comparison.

Kirk thought for some moments. "Uhura, instruct shore leave parties one and two to prepare for beamdown. Mr. Chekov - you are certain there are no intelligent life forms in the selected area?"

" None, sir."

"Your scans have likewise detected no animals likely to be dangerous?"

"None, sir."

"Very well." He punched his chair intercom button. "Shore leave parties - remember that little is known about this planet except what we have been able to detect from space. Be on your guard. If you see anything that you are unsure of, leave it alone and report it immediately to the science officer. And remember, our presence here must go undetected. This planet is in unknown space." As he switched off, McCoy's voice at his shoulder said, "Jim, aren't you forgetting something?"

Kirk looked round at him. "What?" he asked somewhat suspiciously.

"The Ubarrak."

"Oh, my God." It was true, he had forgotten about them. So much had been happening... "What do you suggest we do with them?"

"Well, you could ask Sigral if they want to go down there. You're duty bound to give them the chance."

"I suppose so... but dammit, Bones, it's going to be hazardous enough down there with just our trained crew landing. The Ubarrak aren't even properly humanoid - they're caninoid, and - well - "

"But intelligent beings," McCoy reminded him.

Kirk rose wearily. "I'd better go and see Sigral," he said resignedly. He was halfway to the door when Uhura turned. "Transporter reports a malfunction, sir."

"Malfunction?" How the hell could that happen? They hadn't been under any stress - except the buffetting from the storm, and that had been minimal compared to some of the batterings they had taken in the past.

"Well, the transporter isn't working," Uhura said almost sympathetically, as if she was following his thoughts.

Muttering something about 'Innate cussedness... ', Kirk entered the turbolift. Mechanically driven or not, the doors seemed to shut with a slight snap, giving the impression of having been slammed.

The transporter operator looked up with some relief as Kirk stamped in, his presence cutting short the muttered discontent of the waiting crew members. "I see you haven't found the fault yet," he said. Kyle was relieved to note that there was no condemnation in his voice.

"No, sir. I've double-checked all the controls, and they're working fine, so the fault must be somewhere either in the wiring or in the transporter console."

Kirk thought about it. Checking either was a long job. He did a mental calculation of how long it would take to ferry the crew down in shuttlecraft, and looked apologetically at the disappointed crew. "I'm sorry," he said. "We want shore leave, the transporter seems to have other views. I'm sure Chief Kyle and his crew will work as fast as possible to detect the fault, and as soon as they do, you'll be called. Meanwhile... dismissed. You're still off duty."

Disgruntled, the waiting crew filed out, soft muttering reaching Kirk's ears. He found himself wishing momentarily for Vulcan ears to overhear what was being said, then decided that perhaps it was as well he didn't. He looked back at Kyle. "Do your best, Chief," he said unnecessarily.

"Aye, sir." As Kyle bent to remove the cover from the back of the console, Kirk headed back towards the door. The more he thought about his coming meeting with the Ubar Ambassador, the less he liked the thought.

In the event, however, he found Sgrral less of a problem than he had feared. He explained the situation concisely, but fully, and Sgrral nodded as he finished.

"I see," he said, sounding thoughtful. "And you have no certainty of discovering our present whereabouts?"

"No, sir. We'll do all we can, of course... but if we can't match up some of the stars we can see from here with some that we know, we're stuck. We don't even know the direction the ion storm carried us... assuming that that's what happened. We could even have hit some form of space warp... I'm sorry."

Sgrral looked at him, his eyes sympathetic. "It is not your fault, Captain."

"Ambassador, when something goes wrong, it's always the Captain's fault."

Sgrral's ears moved slightly. "I see your people have the same sense of responsibility as mine. It is so in my work also."

Kirk opened his mouth, thought better of what he had been about to say, and closed it again. Sgrral looked at him, a question in his expressive eyes, and Kirk decided to say it after all. "Then what about Birbir, sir? Haven't you done anything?"

The Ambassador's tail drooped slightly in discouragement. "As yet, no, Captain. It is a difficult situation; it is unprecedented. I do not know what is the best thing to do. For the moment I am watching; but while their work continues efficient, unaffected, I have no right to interfere in their private lives, no matter how indignant I might be about the situation."

"Uhura was certain of her facts." Did the Ubar think they were lying?

"T do not doubt her word, Captain. But unless Junior Brrbrr herself makes the accusation, or unless her work is affected, I cannot act on mere suspicion, on the evidence of a third party." He lowered his head. "Yes, I know I said I would take action... and I will, when the time is ripe. As yet it is not."

"And while you wait, the girl is subjected to more abuse."

"The remedy is in her hands, Captain. If she were to come to me - or even to my wife - and complain, then I could act immediately. That she does not makes me wonder if in fact she is as reluctant as she tells your officer she is."

Kirk stared at him. "I don't quite understand, sir."

"Junior Brrbrr is unusually submissive, Captain, even for one in her position. It could be that she secretly enjoys being thoroughly dominated, even humiliated."

It was a shrewd point, and Kirk considered it. "I suppose that is possible. The trait is not unknown among my people." He sighed. "Life can sometimes be very complicated, Ambassador. Why does this have to happen to us?"

"I think every leader must say that to himself at some time in his career... indeed, I think he must say it often," Sgrral said. "Yet would you really have it otherwise?"

"No, " Kirk replied.

The crew used the short-range scanners to gather more information about the planet and its solar system while the long-range scanners were busily occupied in checking the star patterns and spectral types, and comparing these with the information in the computers. It provided concentrated work for the science and navigation departments, but left little for the other departments to do.

McCoy insisted that Kirk himself take the chance of a few days off. There was little that he could do on board ship; with Spock in charge of the short-range scan of the planet, and Chekov at the long-range one, both were being efficiently handled; it would do no harm to leave Wood in command. McCoy's arguments were persuasive; Kirk agreed to go down with McCoy for a couple of days.

However, Spock finally went with them. The short-range scan was routine, and Seval, his second, could handle it easily while Spock himself could take more detailed readings on the surface. His slightly alien appearance would make little difference should they be seen, but in view of the remote area Kirk selected for his landing, the chances of their being seen were slight.

They landed the Columbus in a small clearing.

It was a beautiful mountain region; nature at her most lavish. Snow-topped peaks soared high above the tree line; the trees themselves marched in serried ranks down the lower slopes, huge sturdy ones on the higher slopes, trees designed by millennia of evolution to bear the weight of the winter's snow uncomplainingly. Lower down were more lightly-built trees, trees that clearly did not have snow weighing down their branches for many months of the year. On the lowest slopes big trees grew more sparsely, with large stretches of grassy ground between them. Grassy? Yes - but mixed among the various grasses were many brilliant flowers of a hundred species. Large butterfly-like creatures fluttered around, almost impossible to see unless they moved, for when they rested their colours were absorbed into the mass of flowers carpeting the ground - protective colouring at its most effective.

Kirk drew a deep breath, savouring the sweet scent of the many flowers. He looked round appreciatively. "God, this is beautiful."

There was no answer. His companions could only agree wordlessly as they too gazed round the untouched beauty.

"We must endeavour to cause as little disturbance as we can," Spock said at last.

Kirk agreed. "Let's move over under one of those trees," he said, nodding towards a nearby giant whose leaves shadowed the ground to such an extent that little grew under it. "Normally I wouldn't consider 'camping' under a tree because of the danger from lightning, but I'd hate to damage any of these flowers more than we already have. You could swear they were alive," he added as a ripple of swaying movement ran across the open glade.

"Plants are alive," Spock said accusingly.

"0h, Spock... Bones knows what I mean, don't you, Bones?"

McCoy nodded. "He means that you'd think they were free-moving, able to communicate... "

"Can we prove that they do not, Doctor?" Spock asked seriously. "Consider Mr. Sulu's sensitive plant - "

"What - the one he calls Gertrude?" McCoy asked.

"Yes, Doctor. That, although it cannot move from place to place, can react to external influences, can communicate fear through sound - "

"Don't, Spock," Kirk said. "Just accept that what I said was the comment of an inexact Human that doesn't have to be taken literally."

They looked at each other for a moment, and a silent message passed from one to the other. "Very well, Captain," Spock said formally. McCoy remained unaware of the flicker of amusement that Kirk received through that look.

They moved the Columbus quickly, then Spock moved off purposefully, tricorder in hand. Kirk leaned back against the tree, his eyes fixed on the distant mountains. McCoy glanced at him, then at the object of his gaze, decided that for the moment Kirk was relaxing completely and happily, and wandered a little way off to take some readings of his own. The rich plant life of this region might just have some medical potential...

Kirk's lazy mood lasted only a few hours, and towards evening, as a three-quarter moon slightly larger than Earth's rose, he was deep in plans for an expedition away from the immediate neighbourhood of their camp, heading towards the mountains.

"If you wanted to go mountaineering, why didn't you land nearer the mountains?" McCoy demanded irritably. He had some interesting readings that he wanted to pursue further.

Kirk grinned at him. "You don't need to come if you don't want to."

"You don't think you're going alone, do you?"

"Spock'll come with me - won't you, Spock?"

The Vulcan nodded and turned his attention back to the meal he was concocting. It smelt good, and even McCoy, who had had some reservations about letting Spock prepare a vegetarian meal for them, was beginning to suspect that he would have no regrets.

"You're not aiming to stay away from here overnight?" he persisted.

"McCoy, what do you take me for? This is our camp, dammit! I'm not going more than a few miles, and I'm aiming to be back here in plenty of time for supper - but I'd like to see a little more of this countryside, and I'm sure Spock'd appreciate the chance to get some more tricorder readings from further afield. Come to that, you might get some too," he added thoughtfully.

The doctor looked up sharply at that. "Yes, I might," he admitted. "But there are some interesting readings here that I want to follow up. I'd be better to cover one area thoroughly than several areas roughly."

"We do want as much information about this planet as we can collect," Spock pointed out. "Even if it is incomplete, it will give us a wide-spectrum view of it and its potential. It is advanced enough for the Federation to consider contacting it officially - provided it is close enough to Federation space for such contact to be worthwhile," he added cautiously.

"If it isn't I doubt we'll ever get home again," Kirk said pessimistically.

"All right," McCoy agreed hastily, more to take Kirk's mind off that subject than because he wanted to indulge in - probably - a twenty-mile hike. "I'll come along too."

He was rewarded by Kirk's grin. "Great. If we leave early we can probably make that point up there - " he pointed - "and still get back here long before dark."

Spock considered the indicated point. "It could be further than you think."

"I know the air here is fantastically clear, but surely it isn't more than ten or twelve miles?" Kirk said.

Spock frowned. "I would estimate rather more," he said. "In addition, we do not know what the terrain is like between there and here." He gave one final stir to the mixture he was tending, and lifted the pot off the heating unit. "Supper is ready."

He dished out the steaming plates of mixed vegetables The Humans tasted, and Kirk, never one to stint praise, said, "Spock, this is... nectar!"

McCoy took several more mouthfuls before contributing, his voice surprised, "It is quite tasty."

"Tasty!" Kirk exclaimed. "Spock, I think we'll let you do all the cooking. It's more than just tasty. It's the best meal I've had in ages."

"It makes a change," McCoy conceded, "but you'd soon get a real craving for some good red meat."

Spock nodded. "I am forced to agree with the doctor. Your system requires animal protein."

"Vegetarians manage fine without," Kirk pointed out.

"Most vegetarians consume milk products and eggs, which gives them the animal protein they need," Spock replied. "I believe you are thinking about vegans, who eat no animal products at all."

"There are times I reckon I'd get on fine as a vegetarian," Kirk said.

"And times you know perfectly well you wouldn't," McCoy told him. Kirk grinned in mute acknowledgement, and turned his attention back to his vegetable stew.

"This is one of the times I do," he told Spock, who half smiled in acceptance of the compliment.

They set off next morning within an hour of dawn. A slightly overcast morning with rapidly clearing cloud gave promise of a good day; the sun had not heated the air yet, but Kirk knew from experience of similar days on Earth that it would soon be quite warm. They carried the minimum of supplies; Spock and McCoy were armed with tricorders, Kirk back-packed some food.

They had not gone far when Kirk said slowly, "I've just realised something."

"What?" McCoy was panting slightly, but was not feeling distressed enough to leave the talking solely to Kirk and Spock - yet.

"No flies." He looked round almost suspiciously. "Come to that, no biting insects at all."

"It is possible that such creatures are not attracted by our alien smell," Spock said. "I have noticed that when I am on Earth, I am never troubled by biting insects even when all the Humans around me are; conversely, my mother has never been troubled by the biting vlaeks of Vulcan - and I assure you, there are many of these."

Kirk grinned. "It's a pleasant thought. It'd make this planet a paradise for rich Terran hikers and camera-hunters, if it ever joined the Federation."

"Eventually, if enough aliens visited here, either they would inadvertently bring their own parasitic insects, or some of the local species would adapt to utilise the new food supply," Spock warned.

"Too many visitors would ruin the very beauty they would be coming to see," McCoy added.

"I know," Kirk agreed. "But seriously, I doubt many Terrans would be able to afford to come here. Space-flight for holiday purposes isn't exactly cheap, you know. That's why we get so many applicants for Starfleet."

They walked on, McCoy slightly distressed by Kirk's sudden cynicism. He had never thought Kirk suspected Starfleet's applicants of any ulterior motive for joining, and said so.

"The ones who want to join for the wrong reasons are weeded out right at the beginning," Kirk said seriously. "But you'd be surprised how many of them there are. You came in through different channels to the one I did, Bones.. The year I entered the Academy there were almost five hundred applicants in my field of study, which at that time was helm/navigation. God knows how many hadn't got that length through not having the proper qualifications, things like that. Of those five hundred, do you know how many were actually accepted? Twenty. The others... " He shrugged. "There were fifty of us sat the entrance exam in my area. We had time to talk in the evenings - the exams covered several subjects, and last-minute studying wasn't allowed; you were supposed to know everything thoroughly before you applied. Well, of that fifty, thirty-two just wanted off Earth; to travel, to see the galaxy. 'Why pay to go to Alpha Centauri on a space liner when you can go on a Starship and be paid for doing it?' one girl said. Of the other eighteen, seven wanted 'To be among those carrying the benefits of Terran civilisation to the uneducated aliens'. Not one of those thirty nine passed; some of them were brilliant in every other subject but failed on their psychology tests. Of the other eleven, three passed; the other eight missed by failing other subjects. You had to make 80% pass to specialise, though it's only 75% for security and non-specialist crew."

Spock nodded agreement. "Do you remember how I came to join the Enterprise, Doctor?" he asked.

"Yes, of course I do," McCoy replied. The Enterprise had been short-staffed in the Science department, and Spock, travelling with them after the Vulcan civilian scientists he was commanding had been rescued from Zaynol, the exploding satellite of an uninhabitable planet, had acted as science officer for the remainder of the voyage. He had enjoyed the work so much that on his return to Vulcan he had gone to the Starbase there asking to join the Enterprise... and three of his party with him. They had all been delighted when the four Vulcans had joined the Enterprise, albeit on a temporary posting which, within six months, had been made permanent. Two of them had now been transferred to other ships, but Spock and Seval were still with them.

"Our qualifications were completely acceptable to Starfleet," Spock said, "but we were given a psychological test before we were accepted. The temporary posting was in lieu of the training period when any further psychological inadequacies might have shown up."

McCoy looked from one to the other. "I knew of course that the psychology tests failed a percentage of applicants for Starfleet," he said, his voice troubled, "but I hadn't realised it was so high."

"That's because you've never been involved with new applicants, Bones."

"Yes, I know, but only about one percent of medical staff fails for psychological reasons. I assumed that percentage was about the norm."

"People who go in for medicine usually know what they're letting themselves in for," Kirk said. "Selfish people don't usually choose that particular job."

McCoy nodded, dropping the subject. They walked on for some minutes in silence. The trees thickened after a while, then thinned out again. In the more open space, a herd of animals was grazing. One looked up as the Starfleet officers walked out from among the trees, watched them for a moment, then lowered its head again.

"They're not afraid of us," Kirk breathed, stopping entranced.

"We did select a particularly remote area to visit," Spock pointed out, equally quietly. "They may have little, if any, acquaintance with bipeds."

"Or else this planet has true conservation?" McCoy suggested.

"Maybe Spock got it right with the insects," Kirk said. "We smell wrong; they mightn't recognise us as a possible danger."

"But we're not - are we?" McCoy asked. It was one thing to slaughter farm animals that were bred for their meat; it was quite another even to think of murdering one of these dainty pixie-mounts.

"Definitely not,° Kirk replied. Spock looked from one to the other, not quite sure why beings who normally and cheerfully consumed meat should be so opposed to killing one of these creatures. Certainly they were attractive, but then so were many of the animals that Humans slaughtered for their tables. Another beautiful head lifted for a moment; the creature walked a few paces and lowered its head again, nibbling at the lush grass. A butterfly landed briefly on its shoulder, and as a muscle twitched, flew off again.

They watched for some minutes while the herd drifted part way across the clearing, then they walked on, leaving the animals still grazing peacefully. "There did appear to be some small insects present apart from the butterflies," Spock commented.

"Those twitching muscles also indicated that insects do bother them," McCoy said. "People can't twitch their muscles like that - the ability has atrophied, if ever Man had it, since primates learned to use their hands to brush annoying flies away. And creatures that aren't bothered by flies never develop the control to twitch muscles - they don't need to."

Shortly after that, they heard the sound of rushing water, and speeded up, curious. They came out of the wood and stopped short; then backed into the shelter of the trees again.

Ahead of them was a river. It flowed out of a cave and rushed rapidly downhill into a deep valley. Its descent could not be called a waterfall, but it did pour down in a succession of rapids and tiny falls, though for how far they could not see from their position hidden among the trees. It would have halted their advance even if the place had still been deserted. But it was not.

Beside the river, just below the cave on a piece of relatively flat ground, sat a vehicle. From its general build it was clearly designed for travelling over rough ground, and that was underlined by the complete lack of any obvious track leading to the cave. Beside the vehicle, a big tent and several smaller ones had been erected; Kirk glanced at Spock, his face accusing.

"Why wasn't the presence of this camp noted before we came down?" he whispered.

McCoy was watching the men bustling about the tents and vehicle. "I think they've just arrived, Jim," he muttered.

Kirk looked back, noting the equipment still being carried from the vehicle. "You could be right - sorry, Spock."

They continued to watch, Spock taking a record of the proceedings on his tricorder. "I think our camp will remain undetected," he murmured at last. "It appears to be a mountaineering expedition - observe the ropes."

"Not mountaineering," Kirk replied after a moment. "Caving. Those are wet suits they're unpacking now." He glanced up at the sky. "Well, they've certainly picked a good time for it. The river looks quite low, too; I doubt it's rained for a while, and it looks set to stay dry for another day or two."

They watched as the group of natives, oblivious of their watchers, began to carry some equipment into the cave mouth, confirming Kirk's conclusion. "They are taking a lot of equipment with them," Spock said.

"Looks like they may be planning a trip to last a few days," Kirk said. "They've set up a base camp, and I suspect that a couple of the party will stay there - maybe more. The others will explore onwards through the caves. They may come back out at night, leaving a set route - ropes fixed, etc - to help them get back to their exploration zone each day - until they get too deep to do that. They must have a pretty good idea that that's a deep cave system."

"You sound as if you know something about caving," McCoy said.

Kirk shook his head. "Not really. I never went in for it, but my brother did some spelunking when he was at university - they had a speleological club, and they did one or two fairly extensive explorations. Most of the more accessible caves on Earth have been pretty thoroughly explored in the last three hundred years; what were left were caves in less accessible places and ones that the techniques of the past weren't sufficient to get into. I went along with the club during one school holiday as part of the surface team - they were always glad of one or two non-cavers for surface support, to do the cooking, etc. And to raise the alarm, call for help, if things should go badly wrong. One of Sam's friends used to talk about one trip he had done - the surface party was made up of cavers too, and while the main party went deep, the surface lot decided to do some exploring of their own. And of course something went wrong; there was a rockfall, and the 'surface' lot, who weren't supposed to be underground at all, were trapped. When the main party returned towards nightfall, there was no sign of their 'support' team and no indication of where they had gone. It took a week of searching before they found the rockfall, reached the correct conclusion, and dug, but by that time it was too late; they were all dead. The fall had got one of them, and the other two had died of thirst and cold. So they were always keen for one or two folk along who didn't want to go underground. However, they took us down a couple of times - not deep, just enough to let us know what was what - to let us see what it was like." He grinned. "I wasn't drawn to it, but I suspect that that was what made me interested in climbing; in many ways it's similar. But I prefer to have space above my head... not hundreds of tons of solid rock."

He turned his attention back to the group around the cave mouth. "There - they're getting ready to take some more of their equipment into the cave. They may be storing it in the mouth of the cave for accessibility - and to leave more room in their tents."

As they watched, it became clear that nothing major was planned by the group at the cave for that day. The natives - who on first sight could well have passed as the same race as the Humans - began to busy themselves with little tasks about the camp; they were clearly intending to stay for some time. After watching for a while, the Enterprise men, their direct route onward doubly blocked, withdrew silently.

Still, Kirk mused, this has not been a wasted day. We've had a good walk, and we've learned quite a lot about the native race. Spock got some good, reasonably close-up readings on them.

They made their way back to their own camp slowly, each man enjoying the peace and the beauty of the scenery.

Their camp was undisturbed - not that they had expected anything else. Kirk contacted the ship, asking for the latest news on the scans.

"Chekov is hopeful about one group of stars at 249 mark 3," Wood reported. "The star groupings, while not exact, are close to one in our records; he is checking out the spectral types now." He hesitated. "Captain, we have more evidence of our practical joker." His voice was grim.

"Yes, Mr. Wood."

"A piece of chewing gum stuck inside the navigational console. It explains why there was that blank in the navigational record; it was jamming a contact."

Kirk's lips tightened. "That isn't a joke. That becomes sabotage," he growled.

"It was undoubtedly meant as a joke," Wood said. "The perpetrator couldn't know that the results would prove serious." Kirk could almost sense his shrug. "All that was probably intended was for whoever was in navigation when it was discovered to get a very red face."

"Maybe. It still isn't funny, and once we get back into Federation space I intend to send a very strongly-worded message to Starfleet Command on the subject of a break-down in the psychological testing somewhere. There's no place on a Starship for anyone as irresponsible as a practical joker. What about the transporter?"

"Still nothing, sir."

"You could try looking for chewing gum in that, too," Kirk said pointedly. The information put him out of temper for the rest of the evening, despite all that his friends could do or say. Without that blank in their navigational record they could perhaps have found their way home without so many of the crew having extra work to do.

Eventually McCoy gave up trying to cheer him up and joined his muttering. "But I'll get him," the doctor assured Kirk. "I'll get him. What if there's nothing in their psychological records to show that one of the crew's a practical joker - I can always re-test them."

Kirk half smiled an acknowledgement of McCoy's support. "It's not fair to give you the extra work too," he said, but half-heartedly.

"Jim, I want to catch this idiot just as much as you do. It'll be worth the extra work," he assured his friend.

They settled down early that night. Although they had not covered half of the distance they had originally intended, all - even the indefatigable Spock - were tired, and they slept well.

They carefully avoided the direction of the natives' camp over the next couple of days as they explored their surroundings. They saw many animals, and all were surprisingly tame; they saw no carnivores, but found evidence that these did exist when they came across a half-eaten carcass, the bones showing scratches that could only have been made by large fangs. Kirk looked at the marks thoughtfully. "If the crew ever does get shore leave, I hope everyone remembers not to lose caution," he said grimly.

That night - the fifth of their stay at the planet - McCoy had invoked his medical authority to force Kirk to stay there so long, with Spock supporting him enthusiastically - as they sat over their evening meal, a cold wind started to blow gustily, bringing clouds with it.

"Looks like we've had the best of the weather," Kirk commented. "I hope the cavers' surface team is reporting the change of weather to the folk below ground. It will rain tonight."

Before he could make his nightly call to the Enterprise, Uhura called them, confirming his forecast. "I've been listening in to some of the native transmissions," she said. "The forecast for your area is a severe storm."

"Hmm. I think we'll come back up." Kirk glanced at his friends. "The picnic's over. Let's get packed up. There's no point in letting ourselves be caught unnecessarily in a storm."

"I could get - " Spock began.

Kirk shook his head. "You'll get all the readings you're going to get from the ship, Mr. Spock. I don't like this drop in temperature. Even without Uhura's confirmation, I was thinking of going home anyway."

They bustled around, packing everything up. Half an hour later they were back aboard the Enterprise.

Kirk headed bedwards a couple of hours later, passing his First Officer and Lt. Lester from Security in the corridor as he went. He paused and glanced after them, watched them disappear into Wood's cabin. He scowled, unhappy at the inferences. It was not good for discipline for senior officers to be on such intimate terms with the junior crew, but if Wood wanted to stick his neck out, he was welcome to. Kirk was too tired at the moment to care; he was looking forward to a long relaxing shower and a read of his favourite book before he put his head down.

Within five minutes he was cursing angrily. He punched the intercom. "Kirk to Engineering."

There was a brief pause, then, "Scott here." The Chief Engineer sounded harassed.

"Scotty, something's wrong with my shower - "

"It's running cold," Scott finished with him.

"You know?"

"There's not a drop of hot water to be had on this ship, sir. I've been run off my feet this last ten minutes with complaints from folk. Someone unknown has tampered with the master thermostat and jammed it on cold. It was easy enough to discover that - but the deil's in it to know what to do about it."

"Unjam it," Kirk said reasonably, with the quiet patience of a man who dares not lose his temper.

"I can't, sir. Whoever jammed it did a thorough job. It needs a replacement unit... "

"Which we can't get until we get home again?" Kirk guessed.

"Aye, sir."

Kirk drew a deep breath. "Well, there is this to it," he said, still quietly. "Whoever was responsible will have to suffer cold water along with the rest of us." Damn practical jokers! he thought.

Then he remembered the Ubarrak. He had better warn Sgrral, at least. With a longing glance towards his bed, he left the cabin.

He was almost at Sgrral's cabin when the door opened and Rrovral came out. His tail was angled unusually low, and his ears were drooping. Kirk had just long enough to wonder what Sgrral's newly-promoted aide had done wrong when Rrovral saw him.

"Captain." There was a slight tremor in his voice. "I was just coming to find you. Sgrral... The Ambassador is very ill."

"What's wrong?" Kirk knew that the Ubar sensed his very real concern.

"His age. The Ambassador is very old, Captain. He had hoped to accomplish this one final, so-important mission for Ubarr, in spite of all our Healers could say. He was advised to retire, but he refused to consider it."

"I've known Humans the same," Kirk said sympathetically. "They're terrified of seeming useless, of admitting that they're old enough to retire... and they usually die in harness. If by any chance one of them is forced to retire, he seldom lives long."

"I think Sgrral will be one to die in harness," Rrovral answered soberly. "Indeed, I think he is quite close to death now."

"That bad?" Kirk was startled. He turned towards the nearest intercom. "You don't have a Healer in your party, do you?"

"No."

Kirk punched the intercom. "Kirk to Sickbay."

"McCoy here."

"Ambassador Sigral's ill, Bones. Rrovral thinks it's just old age, but can you come down and have a look at him?"

"On my way." The intercom clicked off.

Rrovral turned to accompany Kirk back into his superior's cabin. "As the Ambassador's Chief Adviser, you will be heading your group during his illness, won't you?"

"Yes. And if he does die, I will become Ambassador in his place. I am not ready for the responsibility yet, Captain. I am only a Chief Secretary; under normal circumstances, I would not have been promoted to Chief Adviser for at least another year." His ears flattened even more. "I am not - might never be - ready to be an Ambassador."

Kirk looked sympathetically at him. "You mean you're not experienced enough?"

"How can I be a good Ambassador without even the experience of one mission as an Adviser?" Rrovral asked. "Especially since I have not had a full cycle of experience as a Secretary."

"I'm sure the others will help you - " Kirk began.

"Help me?" Rrovral interrupted. "Yes, they would if they could - but all of us are now automatically raised a grade by Vrrak's death, and if Sgrral dies too, we will all be raised two grades - and none of us are old enough yet for the new responsibility."

'Old' enough? Was promotion among the Ubarrak usually by age, then, or was the translator merely giving the closest approximation it could to what Rrovral had actually said? Well, it didn't matter. "As the new senior of your group, sir, I must speak to you on the matter that originally brought me here."

"Ambassador Sgrral did mention the problems that made it difficult for us to land, Captain. We all concur with his agreement."

"No, that isn't the problem, sir. You may have noticed that it is impossible to obtain hot water?"

"I had not... but then, my race does not use heated water for anything."

Kirk sighed with relief. "Then this is not an inconvenience to you." He thought for a moment, then said, "I'll explain after Dr. McCoy has seen the Ambassador."

"Very well." Rrovral buzzed at Sgrral's door; entered, followed by Kirk. The Human crossed to the bed and looked down at the Ambassador.

"I'm sorry you're not feeling well, sir."

Sgrral made a weak gesture. "A passing weakness, Captain, nothing more."

"I'm sure of it, sir, but I've called Dr. McCoy to have a look at you anyway, as I understand you have no Healer in your party."

Sgrral rumbled slightly, deep in his throat. "Does your Healer know Ubar medicine?"

"Not much," Kirk admitted as the buzzer sounded once more.

Rrovral glanced at the subservient female who stood at the foot of the bed, and called, "Come in."

McCoy entered so fast that it was clear to Kirk that he had barely delayed long enough to hear the permission. The doctor hurried over, scanner already in hand. He ran it over the Ambassador's body, and frowned; repeated the examination, and said, "I want the Ambassador in Sickbay immediately."

As Kirk reached for the room intercom, Rrovral said, "What is wrong with Ambassador Sgrral?"

McCoy looked at him, his lips set. "In my opinion, the Ambassador's been poisoned."

The group that met in the briefing room less than an hour later was utterly depressed. Fast as McCoy had moved, it still had not been fast enough. Sgrral had died a few minutes previously.

Kirk looked round the group. McCoy, of course; Rrovral; Sgrral's mate, her tail drooping almost perpendicular to the ground, her acquired status lost with her mate's death. She looked very old, and Kirk suspected that she, too, might die before they could leave here. Spock. Wood, who as First Officer really should be here as well, had been left on duty; Kirk doubted that he could add anything significant to their enquiry.

"Have you any idea what poison was used, Bones?" Kirk asked.

McCoy shook his head helplessly. "The one thing I'm sure of is that he was poisoned," he replied, "but it had to be a Ubar poison. One that was painless, too; the Ambassador was in no pain. He just... faded away."

Kirk glanced at Rrovral. "Have you any idea who might have wanted the Ambassador killed?"

The Ubar's ears flattened slightly. "Any one of us might have seen the opportunity for advancement," he said honestly, "even although we had already been advanced one place by Vrrak's death. The Ambassador was old; I myself thought it was only his age. Whoever killed him must have depended on the lack of a Healer with our party to disguise the fact that it was poison. Your Healer is most skilled, to identify this in a species unknown to him."

Kirk made a mental note that in spite of his diffidence, Rrovral was managing to carry out his new responsibilities pretty adequately.

McCoy was speaking. "Poison always shows up if the examination is carried out soon enough after death," he said gloomily, not at all cheered by the compliment. "The idea of an untraceable poison is very nice - for a murderer - but it's a myth. Provided a doctor knows the basic physiology of the patient, any foreign substance imbibed shows up. When I knew we'd be carrying your people, I did some checking up, just in case of any medical problems."

"Are there any painless Ubar poisons?" Kirk asked.

Rrovral's ears flattened slightly more. "There is one," he said with obvious reluctance. "It is used by Healers to give euthanasia to the incurably ill... provided the patient requests it. It is almost impossible to obtain for those who are not Healers."

"But not completely impossible?" Spock asked.

"Nothing is completely impossible to obtain if one wants it enough," Rrovral answered. "It is not unknown for a Healer to give a dose to a friend who wishes to get rid of vermin, for example. Of course, if it is discovered, the Healer is denied further supplies, and is permanently disgraced."

Kirk nibbled his upper lip, wondering how to put the next question without offending. "Did the Ambassador say anything to you about a... a problem one of your juniors is having"'

"No," Rrovral said, but Kirk noticed the female's ears twitching. "He mentioned it to you, ma'am?"

The female glanced at Rrovral as if asking permission to speak before she replied. "My mate mentioned it," she said. "He was concerned, and asked me to speak to Junior Brrbrr when the occasion arose. He did not want to... to stress it, but he thought to investigate... "

"Did you speak to her?" Kirk asked gently, realising that all Ubar females were very lacking in self-confidence. Damn sexual inequality anyway!

"Not yet - the opportunity had not arisen."

"What is this problem?" Rrovral asked with all the authority of his now position, and Kirk nodded approvingly to himself. The Ubar was certainly trying to develop his self-confidence.

He explained briefly; Rrovral's ears flattened entirely. "Impossible!" he gasped.

"That was what Ambassador Sigral thought, but what reason would my communications officer have for inventing such a tale?"

"Undersecretary Drakk did not bring his mate," the female pointed out. "And... if you ask your mate, Ambassador Rrovral, I think you will find that she does not trust Drakk either."

"Do you?" Kirk asked her pointedly.

"No," she whispered, her ears flattening.

"Why not?" Spock put in.

"I... fear him," she replied. "Captain, even without asking... I believe Brrbrr's story is true."

"Yet that does not make him a killer," Spock put in. "All it might prove is that he has no morals where females are concerned."

Kirk scowled. "Commander Wood likes him," he said. "And he told Mr. Wood that Sigral was known on Ubarr for the shortness of his temper." He was watching the Ubarrak.

"Sgrral? Short-tempered?" Rrovral exclaimed. "Never!"

"I didn't believe it either," Kirk said. "Yet Drakk said it. Ambassador, I think that Drakk needs to be watched."

"Captain... Drakk has always done his work efficiently," Rrovral said. "Sigral could lose his temper with an inefficient worker, yes - but he had never needed to do so with Drakk."

"So he had some other reason than spite for saying that," Kirk commented. "Ambassador, would you call Drakk ambitious?"

"Within reason, yes... but no more so than many of our race. Promotion would inevitably come with age. By the time he is fifteen or so, he could reasonably expect to be an Adviser."

"Perhaps he is more ambitious than he has let you see," Kirk suggested. "Well, we can prove nothing... but may I suggest that you watch what you eat, Ambassador."

"You think the killer may try to murder me, too?"

"It isn't unlikely... unless it was a personal grudge killing," Kirk told him.

"Unimaginative, Captain," Spock put in. "The more Ubar who die, the fewer are left to suspect; and the killer must surely be Ubar."

Kirk nodded, then glanced at Rrovral. "There is one other thing," he said. "We have aboard this ship what Humans call a practical joker. He has - we assume he has - been responsible for several... jokes... some of them quite dangerous.

"So far we have no clues as to his identity - but we'll get him. I didn't say anything before, but he's extending the scope of his 'joking' into areas of maximum inconvenience to the maximum number of people. I mentioned cold water to you earlier - my race prefers to use warm water to wash. That is currently unobtainable, thanks to him."

"Ah, I see, Captain."

The group broke up, the Ubarrak leaving together. Spock murmured an excuse, and also left; the two Humans looked at each other.

"Could Rrovral be the killer, Bones? He's the one who stands to gain the most... "

McCoy made a face. "They all move up another step in rank, don't they?"

"You mean an over-ambitious younger one wanting to move up even further before he's really ready?"

"Yes. Rrovral strikes me as a steady, conscientious, competent worker, but not a particularly ambitious one; someone who will accept promotion when - if - it comes, but won't necessarily go out seeking it... and who will probably make a damn sight better a job of it than the ambitious pusher. Some of those over-ambitious ones don't know their limitations."

"Are you saying that ambition is a bad thing?" Kirk asked.

"Not necessarily. Ambition can be a very good thing if it pushes someone on and into the job he's most suited for. But over-ambition - that's bad."

Kirk sighed. "One of the younger ones... That could very easily bring us back to Drakk." He stood, suddenly needing to move, and walked round the table to McCoy's side. "I know - it's easy to accuse someone just because we know something about him that we don't like, consider unacceptable. The only one of us all who has had any direct contact with him is Wood, and he likes him."

"Drakk is matey with Rivas, too - and that isn't a recommendation in my book," McCoy said bluntly.

"I know Spock had a little... difference of opinion with Rivas over a skimped cleaning job that could have endangered the whole ship. What have you got against him? I haven't noticed him particularly except that he was on a paint job the night the Ubarrak doors were 'decorated', and he denied all knowledge of it. I'm inclined to believe him, too - he didn't strike me as having much imagination."

"I don't like his psyche reports. Oh, they're all within acceptable limits or he wouldn't be here, but I wouldn't like to trust him in a really tight corner. I think he might just snap."

"Lack of stability?"

"Indicated." McCoy frowned slightly. "Self-interest ratings are only just within the acceptable range, too."

"I'm not sure that I care for that combination," Kirk said slowly.

"Nor do I, but there's nothing I can do about it since the Academy doctors passed him - until he does snap.

"By which time he could have caused the deaths of several good men," Kirk growled. "Why don't they make sure Academy doctors have actual space experience?"

"Some do," McCoy protested. "But I'd agree, they should all have some, even if all the Academy did was have them posted to the medical department of a Starship for six months before their appointment. The Surgeon-General did try at one point to make that a ruling - not Tokoto, the one before him - but he was voted down, the given reason being that anyone who wanted to go into space applied for an active posting and those who didn't shouldn't be made to. As Spock would say, it wasn't exactly a logical argument; if six months' active service was a pre-requisite for a damn' well-paid job, applicants would know the score and accept it." He hesitated, then went on. "Jim, you're not going to like this - I didn't when I read it. It came in with a lot of other reports, and I only got round to reading it now. This business of the practical joker, and those two clowns in Engineering. Starfleet Command pushed through a new ruling that superseded the old one about not having extreme extroverts on Starships. Tokoto fought it, but the best he could manage was to have it made for a trial period initially, and on only three ships - but we seem to be one of them. Personally, I'd say the experiment hasn't worked. The two in Engineering were funny originally, but I've noticed that now, when they get started, folk begin slipping away, and Scotty tells me they're not liked in his department. Good workers, always pull their weight - but they're not liked."

Kirk was scowling blackly before McCoy finished. "Well, the report Starfleet gets from me will be one they don't like. It's already partly drafted... Bones, are you still sure the practical joker isn't one of your two 'funny men'?"

"Pretty sure. No, the joker isn't that obvious. He's hiding it - I'm sure of that. Somewhere along the line he's learned something about psychological tests, and how to fake 'normal'. I have a horrible feeling that this situation would have arisen even without Starfleet's new ruling. And I'll tell you something else - it's not helping morale among the new crewmembers, either. I've had several of them come to me with minor ailments, and in every case the real cause is that they feel that the rest of the crew is watching them. I've scored them all off the list of possible suspects," he added wryly. "It's down to fourteen or fifteen now."

The intercom buzzed. Kirk reached to it. "Kirk here."

"Kyle, sir. We've finally traced the transporter malfunction. It was another bit of chewing gum... and whoever planted it knew exactly where to put it for maximum effect and minimum traceability."

"Can you get it fixed?"

"Transporter working now, sir."

"Well, that's something. Well done, Mr. Kyle. You can start beaming down shore leave parties - if anyone wants to go down in the rain." Kirk switched off and looked at McCoy. "Whoever planted the gum knew where to put it. Whoever gummed up the navigational console also knew where to put it... That says 'engineer' to me."

"It does look like it," McCoy conceded. He was interrupted as the intercom buzzed again.

"Kirk here."

"Uhura, Captain. I'm picking up a signal from the planet. There's a big caving expedition trapped underground by flood water as a result of the recent storm, in the area we selected for shore leave."

Kirk groaned. "That must be the group we saw. The place'll be thick with rescuers, relatives, Press... Hold the shore parties again. See if Mr. Chekov can find someplace else as remote."

"We could maybe help those natives, Jim," McCoy said.

"Bones... The Prime Directive...

"It's a Class 7 culture, Jim. Ready for contact. But we don't need to reveal ourselves as offworlders. Go in as a group on holiday and offer to help. You have climbing experience... "

"I'd like to help, Bones, but - "

"You've broken the Prime Directive before when it's been necessary," McCoy pointed out.

"Yes, but we don't know that it's necessary this time."

Uhura broke in again. "Captain, the reports are that it's impossible to reach the trapped men because of the water. They don't have sufficiently advanced breathing apparatus to get through one flooded section. The forecast is more rain - if we don't help, those trapped men are dead."

"All right," Kirk said decisively. "Put me onto shipwide communication, Uhura... This is the Captain. I require five men or women with experience of caving - or at least mountaineering. Report to the transporter room in ten minutes, wearing civilian clothing."

"I'm coming with you, Jim," McCoy said. "You may need a doctor."

"You don't have any experience, do you, Bones?"

"Well, no, but - "

"But nothing. You can come down, but wait on the surface, preferably out of sight - we won't tell them where we come from if we can avoid it. But if one of your staff volunteers, then I'll certainly take him - or her."

Spock met them on the way to the transporter room. "I have some experience," he said quietly, "I volunteer to accompany you." The offer was expected especially since the Vulcan was wearing civilian clothes very like those they had seen on the surface.

Kirk looked poin