Star Trek - TOS 38 Idic Epidemic (33 page)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But the very warmth was their enemy.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chapter Thirty-five

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why
…
are you here?” she asked.

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

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

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

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

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

She frowned, honestly puzzled. “But why?”

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

“A what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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