Moons over Mertoius

"Captain's Log: Stardate 2262.38. Enterprise has arrived at the Mertoius system, and is orbiting the fourth planet. Mertoius IV will, in twenty-four hours, experience an astronomical event that occurs only once every 753 Earth years. Its three moons will be in conjunction, and will be full at the same time. A team from the Federation Corps of Engineers has been on the planet for the past ninety days, aiding in the final construction of force field generators that will hold back the extreme tides expected as a result of this event.

"Enterprise's role, aside from retrieving the team at the end of their mission, is to assist with the operation in any way possible—a difficult assignment, given the fact that the Mertoians' nervous systems are affected by the phases of their moons. When a single moon is full, they enjoy a mild euphoric state. Each additional full moon is believed to have a synergistic effect. Mertoian scientists have been unable to determine exactly what the effects of a triple-full-moon will be. Sparse historical records from the previous full conjunction all mention an event that is translated as 'the running,' but historians have been unable to determine exactly what that might entail.

"Reports from the engineering team have described significantly elevated moods in the general population over the last three days. The team-leader's last report stated that none of the Mertoians appeared for their duties this morning. Enterprise's engineering teams are ordered to assist in any way possible. The Federation has prior authorization from the Mertoian government to use Starfleet personnel to ensure the success of the mission to keep cities in tidal zones safe, and to protect the Mertoian citizens from accidentally harming themselves during the behavioral chaos that seems likely. At last report from teams on the surface, the Mertoian population appears to be … enjoying itself immensely."

The door signal chimed gently.

"Computer, end recording," Jim said, and went to open the door.

"Hey, Jim," Leonard said, making himself at home by flopping down onto a chair to the side of the computer terminal.

"Bones! How was it down there?"

"Pretty wacky," Leonard said. "And the thing where the Mertoians can't tell the difference between any of us humans is even trickier when they're all high."

"High, huh? Maybe I should go back down, and have a look. Sounds like it could get pretty fun down there," Jim said.

Leonard scowled. "Now wait a second, Captain."

Jim sighed. "I know, I know. But … Bones, they're just so damned—"

"Don't even say it, Jim," Leonard said.

"—cute," Jim concluded. "I mean, you can't deny it."

"But I also won't go spouting it around," Len said.

"I'm not spouting," Jim said, with feigned indignity that he'd invented specially for Leonard. "And see? You didn't deny it. They're cute."

Leonard rolled his eyes. "Okay, yes, you got me there."

"How can beings who look like a cross between a panda bear and a bunny not be cute?"

"Jim!" Leonard said sharply. "You know how rude it is to compare sentient beings to animals." He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck.

"Come on, Bones. It's just between you and me. And you have to admit, it's an apt comparison," Jim said. "And I didn't mind that they compared us to their tiny little hairless non-sentient primates. Plus, Uhura said that analogy is a big part of their idiom, and that a speaker who makes good analogies is likely to be listened to and respected. And here, lemme at that neck."

"Damn it, Jim! Just because you don't have a personal space bubble doesn't mean the rest of us don't," McCoy griped. As he tried to duck away, though, something cracked in his neck, and he gave up. "All right, okay. Fine."

"You're lucky I'm me and not you," Jim said, "or I'd probably hypo you with a muscle relaxant or something. Or you'd probably hypo you. Or whatever."

Jim silently worked a few kinks out of Leonard's neck muscles, then clapped him on the shoulder and turned to his sparse but effective liquor cabinet.

"So, Doctor," Jim said, belying the formality of his language by setting a portion of Leonard's favorite good-but-not-special-occasion bourbon in front of him. "Any progress on why the full moons affect the Mertoians the way they do?"

Leonard shook his head. "None. But it's happening across all their cultural and linguistic groups, so it's unlikely to be any kind of … well, I hate the term, but, mass hysteria. And Jim—this is actually what I came by to tell you. Some of our crew seem to be experiencing effects as well."

Jim's face instantly had a serious expression. "Like what? Anything dangerous?"

"No," Leonard said, "or I would've let you know right away. But here are some examples. Ensign Nichols insisted on going for a jog in the middle of a meeting. He came right back, and was quite apologetic, but he said he felt like he'd explode if he didn't get moving. And Crewman Sharif had a fit of the giggles when he was on watch at one of the tide control stations."

Jim raised an eyebrow. "Sharif? Now that I would've liked to have seen." He scratched his head, and the eyebrow returned its original position. "But in all seriousness, Bones—this could be a problem. I mean, our people are supposed to be helping keep the Mertoians in check a little. So if we all start going just as bonkers as the Mertoians, what good are we going to be?"

"Hm," Leonard said. "I don't quite see it playin' out that way. So far, compared to how bat-shit crazy the Mertoians are going, our people's little incidents are nothing. Plus, they both came right out of it after a bit of … atypical behavior. Folks are watchin' out for each other, too."

Jim nodded thoughtfully. "Okay. Well, nobody's down their completely on their own, so as long as personnel assigned dirtside are aware of the phenomenon, and watch out for each other, it seems like we'll be all right. I'm on the roster to go down first thing tomorrow, to meet with their equivalent of the planetary president. I think from what you're saying that I'll double my landing party, so I'll have two people with me instead of the one security guard. I'll have Uhura run that past the president's office, just to make sure it's okay."

"I'll let you know if it seems like anything's changing, but for now, I think that's a good plan," Leonard said. "I'll be back down at the hospital in the capital city bright and early tomorrow morning, and I'll keep an eye on things for sure."

~!~!~!~

Ten hours later, planetside.

"Kirk to Enterprise."

Jim tapped his foot on the polished marble floor as he awaited a response. The floor looked cool and inviting, like it just wanted to be touched. One of his security team appeared to be thinking the same thing, and was kneeling down to the shiny surface.

"Enterprise here, Captain. Go ahead."

"Uh, it looks like the meeting is off. It took us two hours to find someone who was with it enough to give us a straight answer, but the president's staff said that—uh … Enterprise, hang on a second."

Jim put his hand over the microphone of the communicator.

"Owens! Cut that out!" Jim said to Ensign Owens, who had laid down on the floor, putting his cheek on the shiny stone.

The ensign spread his body out on the floor, and turned his head slightly to look up at Jim.

"But sir, it's so … so …" Ensign Owens sighed, and put his cheek back on the floor.

"Yadanar!" Jim barked to the ensign's partner. "Pick him up!"

"Yessir," said Crewman Yadanar, as he leaned down to try to retrieve his prone partner.

"Enterprise," Jim repeated. "The president's staff reported, and I quote, 'she's gone for a run.' Then they all left. We're going to take a quick look around, and then return to the ship."

"Copy that, sir," the bridge officer responded.

"Enterprise," Jim said, "I'm going to comm you every five minutes. If you don't hear from me within six, hail me directly."

"Received. You'll comm every five minutes, and we will contact you if we don't hear from you within six minutes," the officer said.

"Correct. Kirk out." Jim pocketed his communicator, and went to help Crewman Yadanar with Ensign Owens.

Owens had, in the way of a toddler, made himself seem twice as heavy as his mass should weigh on this planet, simply by going completely limp. He continued resting his cheek on the cool, marble-like floor, and stroked his hand along a crack in its surface.

"So smooth," he murmured.

Ensign Yadanar was trying to heave Owens to his feet, but the floor was so smooth and slippery that every tug just pulled Owens' body along the floor.

"Good grief," Jim muttered. "Okay, this is a waste of time. I'm going to have him beamed back up to the ship, and you and I will partner up."

"Yessir," Ensign Yadanar said, relief evident in his voice as he let Owens gently back down onto the floor.

Kirk gave the beam-up order, and Owens twinkled away. Jim was momentarily transfixed by the reflection of the sparkles of the transporter effect in the shiny floor, but shook the feeling off quickly. He wondered how long it would take, once the man was farther away from the astronomical conjunction and its unexplained effects, for him to be mortified at his behavior. He made himself a mental note to ask the unfortunate ensign.

"All right," Jim said briskly, noticing that Ensign Yadanar was staring at the floor. "Since we're obviously not going to be having a meeting with the president, we'll go check out the force field generators along the seafront."

"Aye, sir," Yadanar said, shaking his head quickly, like a dog trying to shed bath water from its ears.

They made their way down to the sea wall, and to the temporary station that the Federation Corps of Engineers had erected three Earth months ago. The station housed a huge field generator, which was currently keeping the crashing tide at bay quite effectively.

"Impressive," Ensign Yadanar said.

"That's one word for it," Jim said, as he looked out towards the sea.

Every few seconds, a wave hit the invisible field, water splashing off the curve and deflecting harmlessly back into the ocean. The waves were at least thirty meters in height, and it was clear that without the forcefield, the edge of the city would already have been devastated by the pounding fury of the water.

"You know, sir, the area of Earth that my family is from is protected by forcefields like this," the ensign said. "By the beginning of the twenty-second century, the oceans had risen enough that a couple of us South Asian countries would've been completely underwater without them."

"So, you're used to seeing this kind of thing, then?" Jim said, doing his best not to duck when a particularly large wave crashed into the field.

"Oh, no sir. I mean, not the waves. Not like these," Yadanar said. His gaze was fixed upwards, at the point on the curve of the field where the peaks of the waves hit. "These … are magnificent."

Another wave broke violently over the field, and Yadanar started to bounce up and down on the balls of his feet.

Jim started to feel like he was somehow personally absorbing the energy of each crashing wave. As wave after huge wave surged over the field, the urge to use some of that energy became overwhelming.

"What do you say we take a quick run down the coast to the next station?" Jim blurted. He felt like he would explode if he didn't start moving.

"One step ahead of you, sir," Yadanar proclaimed, and dashed down the road built on top of the seawall.

Jim followed, not caring that they had no particular reason to visit the next unmanned station. He just had to move, had to run. Once he finally got up to speed, he felt calm again, and realized that it had been some time since he hadn't had that 'ants in the pants' feeling.

He ran, and ran some more, and didn't notice when Yadanar stopped to look at something. He encountered several groups of Mertoians running towards him, and they all greeted him with the enthusiastic ear-flapping that was their equivalent of a wave.

Jim had no idea how long he'd been running. He started to feel something that, through the fog that had settled into his brain, he recognized as fatigue, but the urge to move was stronger than his body's need for rest. His communicator chirped, but he ignored it, as he had many times already.

Eventually, the chirping got annoying. He removed the offending device from his pocket, and tossed it to the side of the seawall road. The liberation from that one small abandonment made him suddenly realize how encumbered he was. He stripped off his gold shirt, and the black t-shirt beneath, and felt the warm sea air waft over his skin. Although he had to stop running to shed the rest of his clothing, it was worth it—now all his skin could be free, feel the air. His feet could feel the solidity of the ground, the one thing keeping him anchored. A small part of him remembered that he really wasn't supposed to be running around a planet naked at the moment, but he tossed that thought aside as easily as he had discarded all of his clothing. He ran, and ran, neither knowing nor caring where he was going.

~!~!~!~

Ninety minutes later.

"I'm tracking his subdermal transponder beacon—it's moving along the seawall that covers the coast from the capital city to Uricani, which is about sixty kilometers from the capital," Uhura said. "But he hasn't answered hails in well over an hour."

McCoy huffed in frustration, and turned to the duty officer.

"I'm this close to ordering you to beam him up on medical grounds," McCoy said, holding thumb and forefinger up about a millimeter apart, "unless you can convince me why we shouldn't."

"Doctor, we don't know why he's moving. There are reports of groups of people running, and he could be in one of those groups. We don't know. We can't scan for additional life signs through the gravitational disturbances from the alignment of the moons. If he's running with a group of others, we have no way of knowing why, or whether suddenly pulling him out will endanger him or anyone else," the officer explained.

"Then what? You're just gonna let him keep going? You're gonna let the Captain of this ship just … run amok down there?"

"At this point, the best move would be to put a security team a kilometer ahead of his current position, but we don't have any additional security teams to beam down. Everyone who's not otherwise engaged was beamed up because they were being affected by the phenomenon."

"Well, I wasn't," McCoy said. "I was down there for longer than him, without going even slightly nuts. Put me down there, a few minutes ahead of him, and I'll see what's going on. Nothin' I can do up here, anyhow. As soon as people get beamed up, they're back to normal and embarrassed as all hell within three minutes, with no aftereffects whatsoever, unless they did something to themselves by accident. Which I feel compelled to point out could happen, here."

The bridge duty officer, who was technically in command, with Spock on the surface and Jim … well, also on the surface, exchanged a glance with the officer at the security station, who nodded.

"Very well," the duty officer said.

"Good," McCoy said. "I'll just go put on some shoes I can run in, because I have a feeling he's not gonna just stop just because I show up. I'll maintain contact, and maybe we can get our Captain back up on the ship in one piece."

Fifteen minutes later, Leonard was standing in the transporter room, ready to beam down. He felt decidedly unmilitary wearing his running shoes with his uniform, but then realized that the feeling didn't bother him in the slightest. He didn't know how long he'd have to be running, but he did know that more than a kilometer would put blisters on his feet if he were wearing his boots.

"It looks like he's been following the seawall," Chekov said. "I will put you down half a kilometer ahead of his current position."

"Do it," McCoy said. "I'll follow alongside him for a bit, and try to get him away from the group, if he's even with one."

"Good plan," Chekov said, silently glad that he hadn't been assigned the task of trying to get Captain Kirk to stop … whatever it was he was doing.

"Ready when you are," McCoy said.

"Okay—here you go!" Chekov said, working the controls.

Leonard appeared on the seawall, and instinctively ducked as a wave crashed into the invisible field separating him from the tidal surge brought on by the astronomical conjunction.

"Holy crap," he muttered. He turned to face the direction that Jim would be coming from, and watched and waited.

He squinted into the distance, sure he saw someone coming. As the figures approached, he realized it was a group of Mertoians. McCoy scanned the small crowd for something yellow and black, without long ears, but to no avail. The Mertoians flapped their ears at him in greeting as they trotted by. He waved back, and returned his gaze to the seawall road.

Thirty second later, a lone figure approached. Leonard looked for the sharp contrast between black pants and gold shirt that would tell him he'd found his target, but the figure seemed to be all one color. It didn't, however, seem to have floppy ears. He squinted again.

"Oh, for fuck's sake," he muttered, ducking reflexively again as a huge wave lashed against the forcefield.

Something blond and deep-space-pale streaked towards him—"streaked" being the operative word. The naked figure was moving so fast that Leonard was sure he could hear a Doppler effect in its yodeling as it passed, but not so fast that he couldn't recognize the naked body.

"Good grief," Leonard said, as he started running to catch up. Even after more than an hour of this behavior, Jim was running fast enough that Leonard had to work hard to catch up.

But catch up he did.

"Jim!" he shouted.

"Bones!" Jim shouted back, as if noticing McCoy's presence for the first time. "Glad you came down for a run! I was just thinking some company would be nice."

"You need to stop," Leonard said.

"But why? It feels good to run. I need to run."

"You look exhausted and dehydrated. Your feet are getting all torn up. And … and … well, you're … flopping around, since somewhere along the way you seem to have decided that this beach is clothing-optional," Leonard said. He was glad, for once, for the requirement that everyone on the ship partake in cardiovascular conditioning, or his mission would already have been over. "Believe me, you'll feel that later," he concluded, pointing at Jim's crotch.

"Huh," Jim said, looking down. "But … but Bones, the thing is, I need to run."

"Uh huh," McCoy said. "Whatever you say. Here we go."

"Here we go where? Where are we going?" Jim asked. "Aren't we already going?"

Leonard sighed, and thumbed his communicator on. "I've got him, Chekov. He's all on his own; nobody else around except me. Get someone to send a blanket from Sickbay, and then beam us the hell off this crazy planet,"

"Aye, Doctor," Chekov said. "But it is not supposed to be cold on—"

"Damn it, kid, just do it," McCoy said, hating that he was out of breath.

McCoy ran on, next to Jim, who blathered annoyingly the entire time about nothing in particular, until finally, just before Leonard's fingers were itching to make their way around Jim's neck, the ship called back.

"Doctor, I am ready to beam you and the Captain—"

"Great!" Leonard barked. "Make it snappy. And trust me, we're gonna want that blanket. Be ready to throw it to me."

"Aye, Doctor," Chekov said again.

Leonard's thought—the one that was interrupted by the hiccup of the transporter effect—was that he would have to have a word with Scotty about this "Aye" business, which seemed to be taking over the ship.

In the split second after the transporter effect released him, Leonard grabbed a still-running Jim and restrained him bodily. It took all his strength and mass, but he managed to stop Jim, narrowly preventing him from leaping off the transporter pad and straight into the bulkhead.

"Wha—wait! No, no, Bones! I have keep going! Why are you—"

"Chekov—toss that here, will you please?" Leonard interrupted.

Chekov deftly flung the blanket to McCoy, who wrapped it around Jim's naked, clammy body before Jim realized he'd been momentarily let go of.

"But Bones—"

"Jim."

Leonard held Jim at his upper arms, and looked right into his wild eyes.

"But I—"

"Jim, you need to stop."

The calmness in Leonard's voice, and his unwavering eye contact, seemed to settle Jim down.

"Um." Jim looked down at himself, and had the grace to blush as he pulled the fallen blanket up. "I, uh … Bones, what the hell is going on?"

McCoy sighed in relief. "Can I let go of you, or will you take off on me again?"

"No—I mean yes, you can let go. Except …"

Jim wobbled and slumped slightly in McCoy's grasp.

"Except what, Jim?"

"Except I think I might fall over. What the hell was I doing?"

"Running, and running, and running. Naked. Barefoot. On something like asphalt, with plenty of crushed seashells mixed in. So actually, we're gonna get you to sickbay," Leonard said. "Let's sit you down for a minute, all right?"

Jim looked down at his feet, which felt wet. He was standing in a small puddle of blood, which was coming from his heavily lacerated feet. He sat down heavily, landing on the edge of the transporter pad. Even with McCoy's support on the way down, he landed heavily enough that he felt a jolt from his tailbone to his skull.

"Chekov, get sickbay to send down a wheelchair, please," Leonard said calmly.

"But Bones, I—"

"For once in your life, don't argue, okay? Even if you wanted to tough it out and walk yourself to sickbay, do you really want to leave bloody footprints all over your pretty ship? No, I didn't think so," Leonard said, without pausing to let Jim answer.

Jim sat there silently for a moment, staring at his feet. He pulled the blanket around himself, and shivered suddenly. Leonard tucked the blanket around his shoulders, but didn't say anything more.

"Bones," Jim spoke up suddenly. "How many people are still down there? I mean, are there other crew-members who are still planetside, going as nuts as I apparently did?"

"There are still three or four people we're trying to round up," McCoy said. "It seems that about three quarters of Humans are affected by this phenomenon, in the same way as the Mertoians. Spock's still down there, with Scotty and one of the Corps of Engineers' people, overseeing the power grid for the forcefields. They're all fine."

"Gimme your communicator," Jim said abruptly, wrenching a hand out from under the blanket.

McCoy cooperated, knowing already what Jim was going to do.

"Kirk to Spock," Jim said.

"Spock here, Captain. What is your status?"

"Glad to hear from you, too, Spock. I'm fine. I got a little … sidetracked down there. How's your end of things?"

"If you are inquiring about the field generators, everything is holding steady. Mr. Scott made some adjustments when the gravitational effects were at their peak," Spock said.

"Copy," Kirk said. "I'm back aboard Enterprise, and … it would be inadvisable for me to return until the full moon effect subsides. I'm putting you in command of planetside operations until further notice."

There was a pause long enough to make Jim suspicious that Spock hadn't received his message.

"Spock?"

"Understood, Captain. However, I have been commanding planetside operations since shortly after the ship lost contact with you. I will continue to do so."

Jim sighed. "Copy that, Spock. Kirk out."

The transporter room doors swished open, and a nurse from sickbay pushed a wheelchair in.

"Chekov, give us a hand here, will you?" Leonard asked.

"But Bones, I can—"

"Bloody footprints. Literally. Now be quiet and let us do the work," Leonard said.

McCoy, the nurse, and Chekov worked together to gently pick the captain up and set him in the wheelchair.

"Don't know why they even call these things wheelchairs anymore," Leonard said, as the nurse pushed the levitating chair through the door.

Sickbay was strategically placed on the same deck as the main transporter room, so they were there in under a minute. The nurse pressed a button on the chair, which levitated so its seat was at the same height as the bed in sickbay, and pressed another button to lower the armrest on the side of the bed. Jim easily maneuvered himself onto the bed.

"Thank you, Ben," Leonard said to the nurse, who took the cue and left the room.

Leonard gave the biobed a second to record and display a set of vitals. Hands on his hips, he looked Jim up and down, frowning at the readings.

"It's the weirdest thing, Bones," Jim said. "I can remember everything—and it all seemed perfectly reasonable at the time. The really weird thing is that I think it only took about five minutes from when I was totally pissed off at one of my Security ensigns for lying face down on the marble floor, till when I was starting a fifteen-kilometer run."

"Naked run," Leonard added. He gently pinched some skin on the back of Jim's hand, and scowled as it remained tented, a sure sign of significant dehydration.

"So the verdict is: you're dehydrated, your heart rate and temperature are too high, and your blood pressure is too low. And your feet are a bloody mess. Literally."

"Sorry," Jim said sincerely. "Honest, Bones, I really had no idea what I was doing. Or, at least, I thought I did, but now I know I didn't. Or … whatever. Um … I don't see anyone else here. Does that mean I'm the only one to, uh, mess myself up?"

"So far," Leonard said. "But there's the little matter of the missing crew-members."

"Bones, I need you to fix me up as fast as you can, okay? So I can work on finding them. Do you know who's still missing?"

Leonard sighed. "I'll make you a deal. It's gonna be an hour or so before I can get your feet put back together again. You're here till then. But you seem to be of sound mind, so I don't have any objection to you talking to the duty officer on the bridge, and doing whatever you need to do for the search while you're stuck here."

"But?" Jim said, knowing that wasn't all.

"But, I know perfectly well you won't pay attention to rehydration while you're working, So the condition of being able to be on modified duty until your feet are patched up is IV rehydration."

Jim cringed—he hated needles even more than he hated hyposprays, but he knew Leonard was right.

"All right, okay," he said.

Leonard raised an eyebrow.

"Really? Just like that? Maybe I spoke too fast when I said you were of sound mind."

"Har de har, Bones. Let's just get it over with," Jim said, sticking his arm out and prodding at a vein. "Can't believe nobody's come up with something less barbaric."

"Oh, believe me," Leonard said, as he gathered an IV pack from a cabinet, "IVs are a whole lot less barbaric now then they were a hundred years ago. The expanding micro-catheters hurt a hell of a lot less than the big fat ones they used back in the early 21st century. And with your state of dehydration, it would've been next to impossible to get a good line going with an old-fashioned large-bore IV. I mean, look at your veins!"

Jim frowned at his arm. "I guess they're kind of … flat. Anyhow—ow!"

"I swear, Jim, your feet are hamburger, and you say 'ow' when I stick you with an itsy bitsy needle?"

"Anyhow," Jim repeated, "I'm dying of thirst, so can I speed things along by having a drink at the same time?"

"You should definitely have some juice or somethin'," Leonard said, "but it'll still take an hour—at least—to fix your feet. Regardless of how much orange juice you drink."

"Okay," Jim said. "I know when I'm beaten."

"And one more thing," Leonard said. "I've put in a standing order that nobody—and that means you, too—who had any sort of problem down on the planet, is allowed to go back until I say so."

"Good thinking, Bones. Um … how will you know when it's safe for people to go back down, since we don't even really know what's causing this?"

Leonard brought a large glass of orange juice over from the replicator panel, and set it on a tray that he pulled over Jim's bed.

"Way I figure it, Humans started going nuts around the same time as the Mertoians did. So once they're back to their usual cheery selves, we oughta be safe to return."

Jim nodded. "Okay."

"I've been kicking around a few theories about what causes this phenomenon. But as for now, I'm gonna get to work on those feet of yours."

Leonard pulled two identical devices out of a cabinet under the bed, and set one by Jim's right calf, and the other below and to the outside of his left heel.

"You know the drill—you'll feel a zap when I turn on the numbing field, and then nothing but pressure and pulling," Leonard said.

"Okay—I hate the zap, so let's just get—ow!" Jim sloshed some orange juice on himself. "Warn a guy. Sheesh!"

"I think I did," Leonard said, mouth quirking up slightly. Not at Jim's discomfort, of course.

"So … I gotta talk to the bridge. Sorry if I'm ignoring you, Bones. Thanks for fixing me up. Again," Jim said.

"Sure thing, Jim," Leonard said. "Just try to hold still."

For the next half hour, while Leonard worked silently on his mangled feet, Jim talked to various people on the ship and down on the planet, trying to find out more about the three crew-members who were unaccounted for. Their subdermal transponders all showed clearly on the map of the planet, but as was the case with Jim, all of them were moving, and it wasn't clear whether they were in a position to be safely beamed out, given the gravitational disturbances arising from the astronomical conjunction.

Between Jim and Spock, two unaffected crew-members were found who could reasonably be sent on a retrieval detail. One, Crewman Marko, had been working with Spock at the primary field generator, and the other, Ensign Souza, was a medical technician who had been working with the very few Mertoian physicians who were still of sound mind. She wasn't happy about the reassignment, but recognized it as both necessary and temporary. The pair was beamed back up to the ship, briefed by the captain and the doctor, and sent to retrieve the three wayward people, blankets in hand.

The first returnee was brought straight to sickbay, looking as worn-out and sheepish as Jim. Ensign Barnes had at least managed to keep his briefs and boots on, but was badly dehydrated, and also seemed to be brewing some kind of stomach upset after eating something that a Mertoian had insisted he try.

"I swear," Barnes said, after retching into a basin, "I don't know what I was thinking. I know better than to ingest anything that's—"

His words were cut off by another bout of nausea. Leonard took a break from Jim's feet to hook Barnes up to an IV, and give him a hypo of anti-nausea medication once the scan of the vomit showed it was safe to do so.

"The fruit they gave you has a compound in it that's chemically identical to a medication used solely to induce vomiting," Leonard told the miserable man. "But you'll be fine in a couple of hours."

The next missing crewman was brought to sickbay just for a quick once-over.

"Crewman Yadanar!" Jim said. "Long time no see. So, what have you been up to since we parted ways?"

"Uh …" Yadanar cleared his throat. "I kind of … was watching the waves."

"With about five hundred stoned Mertoians," added Ensign Souza, the reluctantly-reassigned medical technician who brought him in. "Good thing we didn't try to beam him directly out—he was right in the middle of a crowd. Anyhow—we still have one more to pick up."

"Yeah, Lieutenant Senay," Jim said, shaking his head. "Man, I hope you can run fast. He's a champion marathoner, you know."

"So we've heard," Med-tech Souza said dryly. "Apparently he runs barefoot most of the time anyhow," she continued, glancing at Jim's feet.

"I don't know if that's gonna do him any good," McCoy said. "At least, not if he's been running on the seawall road. The Kalahari Desert is one thing, but the seashells on the seawall—damn, I sound like a tongue-twister—are like broken glass. Why don't you take the wheelchair down to the transporter room, just in case," he suggested.

"Good thinking. Well, here goes. I just hope we can catch him," Souza said.

Fifteen minutes later, Lieutenant Senay was brought into sickbay, on his own two undamaged but bare feet, but sans any shred of clothing. He held the blanket around himself tightly.

"So, Lieutenant; what's your story?" Jim asked, finally allowing himself to lie back comfortably on his biobed now that all his crewmembers were accounted for.

"Er … I ended up going for a run with a crowd of Mertoians. They were all singing, and the mountain air was just so invigorating… well, I just didn't seem to be able to help myself, sir." He cleared his throat, and shifted back and forth on his feet.

Jim frowned. "Mountain air? I thought you were stationed at one of the field generators."

Senay nodded. "I was, but … there was a bus going up to the mountains, and it just sounded like such a good idea at the time. I apologize, sir. I was derelict in my duties, and could have endangered our mission."

"Don't worry, Lieutenant," Jim said. "Much the same thing happened to everyone here, except the good doctor. Who is nearly done fixing up my feet, right, Bones?"

"Ten more minutes, Jim."

"But it's already been more than an hour!" Jim protested.

"Bloody footprints," Leonard said.

"Fine."

Ensign Souza, and her temporary partner, Crewman Marko, hovered at the edge of the sickbay.

"Are you two feeling okay?" Dr. McCoy asked.

"Oh—yes, we're fine, sir." Souza said. "But … well, we don't want to get in the way of anything, but we did want to report something we observed planetside."

"What's that, Ensign?" Jim asked. "I'm curious to hear what you noticed."

"Well, nearly all the humans we've observed to be affected, or that we've heard about being affected, are male," Souza said. "There were three Human females from the Corps of Engineers who got brought in to the hospital in the capital, and we heard about two female Enterprise crewmembers who were affected, but really, amongst the affected Humans, almost everyone is male."

McCoy nodded. "I'd noticed that, too. There are also plenty of Human males who haven't been affected—yours truly included—but this phenomenon certainly does seem to be hitting us men disproportionately hard."

"Huh," Jim said. "Why do you think that is, Doctor?"

Leonard shook his head. "Can't say, yet. There's nothing that shows up on any scans, and there's nothing chemically different in anyone's blood chemistry or even cerebrospinal fluid. But there are some known structural and functional differences in male versus female frontal lobes, and I wonder if that has anything to do with this."

"Ah," Jim said. "Impulse control, regulation of one's own behavior, that sort of thing—they're in the frontal lobes, right?"

"Insofar as you can say 'in,' yes. The frontal lobes are certainly involved a lot of the functions that … went awry in affected folks," McCoy replied. "The whole thing is really pretty interesting. I mean, a behavioral phenomenon that affects so many people who aren't in proximity to each other almost has to have a toxicological or physiological cause."

Leonard got a distant look on his face, and started towards his office. "That reminds me … I need to make some notes for later."

"Hang on a second, Doctor," Jim said. "Before you get engrossed, what do you say to letting us all out of here, so we can get back to our respective duties?"

"Well, let's see," Leonard said. "Senay, you're good to go, and you too, Yadanar. Barnes: sorry, you're stuck here until you're not puking anymore. And Captain, we'll have a discussion when this place clears out a bit."

Jim rolled his eyes, knowing that Leonard meant "not yet, but I'm not going to let you argue with me in front of the crew."

"All right—everyone who's discharged, you're dismissed to your regularly assigned duties if you're on shift," Jim said. "Ensign Souza, Crewman Marko, thank you for your assistance. I trust I can count on your discretion in the matter of your affected crewmates."

"Yessir," the two crew-members replied together.

After a few moments, sickbay was a substantially quieter place, with only the captain, the doctor, and a drowsy Ensign Barnes remaining in the patient care area.

Leonard ran a scanner over Jim's feet, and then up and down the rest of him. He looked at the nearly-empty fluid bag, and felt the skin on Jim's arm.

"So—am I good to go?" Jim asked.

"Feel your feet," Leonard said to Jim.

"Huh? They don't hurt anymore. I mean, the numbing field has worn off, so it's itchy, but nothing hurts. I promise," Jim said.

"No, I mean 'feel' as in actually touch your feet, with your hands," Leonard said.

Jim obliged, bending his leg at the knee and hip to slide it up the bed, and reaching down under the sheet with a hand. As his hand contacted the foot, he frowned.

"Oh," he said.

"Yep. Brand new skin. Like a newborn."

"So … gonna take some breaking in, I guess."

"You got it," Leonard said. "My gadgets can grow you new skin, but toughening it up is up to you."

Jim nodded. "Okay."

Leonard's eyebrows soared. "Okay? That's all you're gonna say?"

"Well? I could argue with you, but it won't do any good. I'll feel a little dumb captaining in slippers, but there we are," Jim said.

"Think of it this way—a lot of people are gonna be feeling pretty dumb in the next few days. So you'll fit right in," Leonard said.

"True," Jim said. "Anyhow—can I go?"

"Sure," Leonard said. "You're on light duty until the soles of your feet look like an adult's, though. Why don't I go up to your quarters and pick you up some clothes, and maybe some slippers?"

"Thanks," Jim said.

The captain read through some reports from personnel on the planet while he was waiting. Mostly, they were as professional as he expected from his crew, but there were a few he quietly sent back to the writer. One report from an engineer working at a field generator station was written in rhyming iambic pentameter, but was actually perfectly descriptive of the situation the report needed to cover, so Jim decided to enter into the ship's log as a sort of souvenir of the events.

One thing he gleaned from the reports, though, in just a few minutes of reading, was how much work was going to be needed to get things in shape again planetside. Work that he couldn't risk his crew helping with until it was clear that the effects of the full moons were no longer a danger.

Leonard returned to Sickbay with a set of clothing and a pair of slippers.

"Here you go," he said, presenting the bundle to Jim, who began dressing.

"What do you think," Jim said slowly, "about when it'll be okay to go back down to the planet? I mean, for those of us that were affected by the moons?"

"Oh, like we were talking about before, I'd say once the Mertoians have come back into their right minds, any danger to Humans is probably minimal. Nobody from the Corps of Engineers had any trouble until after the Mertoians started to lose it," Leonard said.

"Make that a medical order," Jim said, "and I'll inform the crew."

Jim frowned as he stood up. "Damn, that's uncomfortable. It doesn't hurt, exactly, but I'm not gonna be going anywhere very fast."

"Slippers for now," Leonard said. "But I'll get on to the quartermaster about getting something custom made up for you, because I'm guessing you have things you need to do on the planet, where you won't want to wear slippers."

Jim nodded. "Yep. Gotta meet with their president. First thing, as soon as we can go back down. Thanks, Bones."

"Now—off to your quarters with you. Delta shift's on, so you don't have bridge duty, and I'd just as soon have you rest a little more anyhow."

"Okay, Bones," Jim said. "I'll take it easy. I guess I should walk a little, to get these feet toughened up, but I promise not to overdo it."

"Good."

Jim walked carefully to his quarters, and settled himself down at his desk. He set up an alert for any incoming reports having to do with the incidents on the planet, and started dictating his own report.

"Captain's Log, Stardate 2262.39." Jim paused, suddenly unsure of what to say in his own report. He'd pretty much gone nuts, and not only hadn't he been able to finish his assignment, he hadn't done anything whatsoever except make more work for his crew.

He cleared his throat, and continued.

"The mission on Mertoius has met with some complications. About seventy-five percent of Humans, amongst both the Engineering Corps and the Enterprise crew, became affected by the triple-full-moon phenomenon, myself included. Please refer to CMO reports as well as reports from the chiefs of other departments for details.

"However, despite the fact that only one quarter of our crew was able to function on the surface, the mission has been a technical success. No damage has been reported in the coastal cities on the planet, and reports of serious injuries or deaths amongst the Mertoians have been minimal; however, given the severity and universality of the …" Jim paused here, to think of an appropriate term. " … behavior disturbances on the planet, it is likely that once their medical and law enforcement personnel recover from the phenomenon, problems will be found."

"Commendations will be entered for all Enterprise personnel who were unaffected by the phenomenon, not because they happened to be immune, but because all reports indicate that these individuals went above and beyond their duties to ensure the success of our mission, and the safety and well-being of the crew.

"No disciplinary actions will be considered for personnel who were affected. Additional commendations will be awarded to Enterprise personnel who handled affected individuals with grace and professionalism, doing everything possible to help the affected individuals maintain their personal dignity in a difficult situation."

Jim cleared his throat, and flashed back to seeing Chekov trying not to look at his naked, crazed Captain on the transporter pad.

"There is currently no estimate on when it will be possible for Enterprise personnel to resume normal operations planetside. When operations are able to recommence, Enterprise will aid in relief efforts until otherwise assigned. Medical supplies and personnel will likely be the main source of aid. Additionally, Dr. McCoy has developed a theory of how the phenomenon affects humans. He will be directed to coordinate with Mertoian medical personnel to work on a solution to the problem, as in ten years there will be a two-moon conjunction.

"I and other command and diplomatic personnel will meet with the Mertoian government to ensure continued smooth relations. At this time it is not possible to determine where relations stand; however, based on the Mertoians' culture, laws, and prior behavior, no problems are anticipated."

Jim ended his log entry, but then thought again about the situation.

"Personal log, copy stardate from Captain's log. Yeah, I was pretty much acting like I was on half the categories of illicit drugs all at once. Bones had to patch me up, again, but at least this time it wasn't my fault, so I'm not in trouble. Note to self: be sure to visit Mertoius in ten years."

The End