"The Holy Word"
by Eleanor B. Kushnir
**** **** ****
Posted by Fred Herriot
fherriot@yahoo.com
**** **** ****
Based on "Star Trek," created by Gene Roddenberry
**** **** ****
NOTE: This story was started by my mother several years ago. She wrote two chapters to it before writer's block set in. Sadly, my mother passed away in August 2001 before getting a chance to return to this story. Those interested in continuing this story are welcome to do so. All proper credits are to be acknowledged, though.
TIMELINE NOTE: This story is set after the TV episode "The Doomsday Machine" and before "A Private Little War."
**** **** ****
In the beginning, there was nothing. And the Great Creative One saw that all was emptiness and blackness. S/He saw that this was not good.
So S/He clapped Her/is hands and all manner of stars and planets sprang from Her/is hands. S/He saw that this was good. The beginning and the ending of the first day.
S/He looked upon the planets and on some S/He separated the land from the water. Some S/He allowed to be filled with gases. Some S/He allowed to rest as they cooled down from Her/is great clapping. S/He saw that this was good. The beginning and the ending of the second day.
On all planets, S/He separated darkness from the light. S/He gave the sun in the day and the moon and other stars at night. S/He saw that this was good. The beginning and the ending of the third day.
On many planets, S/He filled the land with animals, the air with birds and the seas with fish. S/He saw that this was good. The beginning and the ending of the fifth day.
On one particular planet, S/He formed a people who loved Her/im and worshipped in all that they did. S/He saw that this was good. The beginning and the ending of the sixth day.
* * *
CHAPTER ONE
Captain's Log: Stardate 4207.1
We've just chased one of the most violent ion storms it has been my experience to study. My and I crew is exhausted. Even Spock seems to walk with a slight droop to his shoulders, the only visible clue that he's as worn and tired as the rest of us. What we need is to find a place for some R and R.
But where in this quadrant is there such a place?
* * *
Jim Kirk slouched in the captain's chair, counting the minutes until he would be officially off duty. His relief had not reported yet. It didn't matter. As soon as the clock read 1600 hours, Jim intended to leave command to Spock and head to his quarters for some badly needed rest.
"Captain," cried out Uhura. "Incoming message from Starfleet. Marked 'For Your Eyes Only' and 'Urgent.'"
With a groan, Jim stood, stretched himself erect and turned to his science officer. "You have the com, Mr. Spock." He strode away, not looking to check that the best science officer in the Fleet had taken the seat he had just vacated. "I'll take it in my quarters," he informed Uhura, then stretched again after hearing the turbolift doors hiss closed.
A minute later, he tapped in his security codes and waited for the call to be piped in. Kirk inwardly groaned on recognizing the officer. Commodore Kowolsky, the greatest desk jockey in the Fleet. Rumour had it that he was one of the few men who actually slept his way to his present position. In the old days, women were accused of such behaviour out of jealousy that they had invaded the male dominated inner sanctum of Starfleet Command...but after a few brilliant leaders arrived and left their mark, that ugly rumour was laid to rest. It was now used as a sign of disrespect for any flag officer who had not run the gauntlet of space travel. Jim groaned yet again. The wrong orders from this yo-yo could easily kill his crew and destroy his ship. "Yes, Commodore?" he said instead.
"We've been reading your reports on this ion storm, Jim," the senior officer began. "Everyone here is very impressed."
'They should be,' Jim thought to himself. 'There hasn't been the likes of that type of storm in recorded space-faring history.' Instead, he smiled, "Thank you, Commodore Kowolsky. I'll be sure to relay your comments to my crew."
"Well, be that as it may..." continued Kowolsky, as if Jim had not spoken. How the man loved the sound of his voice. "...we've received a curious message from a planet in that quadrant, asking specifically for you and your services."
"A planet? In this quadrant? With interspace communication ability?" Jim punched in some keys to call up a diagram of the space about the 'Enterprise.' Sure enough, a tiny planet, some light years away, but close in space terms, wobbled about a small star at the very corner of the quadrant. "Who is it and why do they want me?"
"It seems that you have done their people some great good and they want to meet with you."
"What good?" Jim felt irritation cover his exhaustion. He didn't like that combination. It made his thinking dull and irrational. For a starship captain, that was dangerous.
"They didn't say, Jim. But I told them that you'd be there as soon as they sent you their coordinates. However, in the interest of interstellar peace and good will, I've accepted their invitation for you. Good Luck! Starfleet out."
"Wait...!" yelled Jim. But the blank screen told him that any further yelling would do no good. He hit a button on his console and roared, "Spock!!"
"Yes, Captain," came the prompt cool reply.
"Could I see you in my quarters?" Jim asked through clenched teeth. He collapsed onto his chair and pulled his hands over his face. He was tired. His crew was tired. And now Starfleet wanted him to visit some people of whom he had no knowledge?! On top of all that, he didn't care.
The doorway soon swished open to reveal Spock. Jim signalled his science officer to enter and sit down. Spock moved silently across the room and sat before the captain's desk. Silence.
Slowly, Jim cleared the cobwebs from his brain, "That was Starfleet." Spock made no comment. He knew his captain would get to it eventually. "It seems there is this planet in this quadrant and they have invited me to visit because I have done them some great good. I have no idea as to who these people are..."
"Donelledons."
"Excuse me?" Jim eyed his science officer. Of course, he would know. "And they are...?"
"There is insufficient information concerning them. For a considerable period of time, it was believed that this world and its people were just a rumour. A small planet far away from the beaten path, so to speak. But enough traders and merchants have visited Donelleda to give credence to that planet's existence."
"I don't know any Donelledons," Jim protested.
"You may have encountered them off world, Jim."
"But what do you know?" Jim raised himself wearily and walked to his private cabinet and drew a bottle of brandy. He was officially off-duty and could indulge.
"According to all reports, they are humanoid," answered Spock. "An attractive people by Terran standards, very slight in build, not tall. The most often used term merchants who visited them employed was...'charming.'"
"Charming," echoed Jim.
The intercom whistle. "Captain Kirk. Incoming message from the Donelledons," Uhura hailed. "Shall I relay it into your quarters?"
"Certainly," responded the captain.
The console beeped. On the screen appeared a gentle looking male, his head covered with wispy reddish hair. A smile across pleasant features provoked a responding smile from the captain.
"Captain Kirk?" the man inquired.
"James T. Kirk of the Starship 'Enterprise' at your service, sir," Jim surprised himself at the courtliness of his tone.
"Wonderful! Wonderful! I am named Hornice, the First Speaker for the day."
"What can I do for you, Mr. Hornice?" asked Jim.
"Please, it is just Hornice," he chuckled. "We have no titles as you have them in Starfleet."
"Again," Jim repeated. Only Spock heard his captain's teeth grind. "What may I do for you?"
"We are most anxious to meet with you, Captain Kirk," the gentleman pleasantly continued. "I have given your chief engineer the coordinates of our homeworld and you should be here, at Warp Three-point-two...in 2.17 days."
Jim looked at Spock, whose only response was an elevated eyebrow. "Hornice," Jim began. This time he made no attempt to hide his frustration...
The screen went suddenly blank, followed by a colourful expletive from Jim. "The cheek of the man," he yelled.
"Apparently, he is accustomed to being obeyed," surmised Spock.
"Well, he can go to hell...!!" Jim roared. "Engineering!" he hit the console.
"Scott here."
"Belay those orders. I'm not going anywhere near..."
"But Captain," Scotty protested. "The ship's engines ha' been locked in tae Hornice's coordinates and we're going there whether we like it or not."
"What?!" Jim exclaimed, then leapt to his feet and dashed out of his quarters. Spock followed closely behind.
Minutes later, Jim burst into Engineering to find Scotty standing quietly beside his console. "Unlock us, Scotty."
"I cannae do that, Captain," burred his chief engineer. "I've tried every trick I know o' tae undo what Hornice set up...but nothing I know nae works."
"That's impossible, Scotty," Jim protested. "You're the best engineer in the Fleet."
"I concur," Spock interjected. "However, the Donelledons, isolated the way they are in this quadrant, could easily have developed engineering principles which we do not know of."
"So, you're telling me..." began Jim.
"Yes, Captain," nodded Spock.
"Aye, Captain," echoed Scotty. "We're going along whether we like it or not...so we might as well enjoy it."
Without another word, Jim Kirk wheeled about on his heels and exited Engineering. Scotty gave his famous Gaelic shrug and Spock raised an eyebrow...
* * *
Captain's Log: Stardate 4207.2
For two days, Enterprise has been locked on the coordinates set into the ship's computers by Hornice of Donelleda. At first, I was enraged at this effrontery. But, for some reason, I have since calmed. I don't feel as tired as I did when the message from Starfleet came. Even the crew seems to have got the chance to rest. It's almost as if with Hornice taking control of the ship, everyone from myself down can relax. Someone else is in charge...even though we don't know anything about this stranger.
* * *
Jim entered his quarters. He was wondering what, if any, equipment he should take with him when he went to Donelleda. He had asked the ship's physician to stand by to accompany him. Leonard McCoy eagerly agreed and, in mock humour, began stacking all manner of suitcases and boxes in the transporter room. Bones loved to complain about his fear of having his atoms spread through the galaxy, but nevertheless, stood ready when called upon.
"Captain," Jim heard his chief engineer call to him.
"Yes, Scotty," he answered.
"Could ye be stoppin' at Engineering before you beam down?"
"Sure, Scotty. Problem?"
"I dinnae want to say exactly that. It's just a puzzlement and I need tae talk with ye about it."
Without another word, Jim hastened to Engineering. He knew Scotty loved the ship...and if there was a 'puzzlement,' the man was beside himself looking for some solution. The doors hissed open. Scotty stood at his control panel, slouched over. He also had a glass of what looked like scotch whiskey in his hand. Jim covered his shock with a stone face.
"What is it?" he asked coldly. "Some sort of malfunction?"
"Nae," Scotty drawled out. "Nae problem at all."
"Then explain yourself, Mister...and tell me why my chief engineer is drinking on the job."
"Aye, yuir correct, Captain, when ye point out I'm drinking. But I'm nae drinking 'on the job.' In fact, I haven't been 'on the job' since that Hornice kidnapped my ship and is making the lass run smoother than I've e'er been able to in all my years here."
Silence.
"You're unhappy...because the ship is running smoothly?" asked Jim.
"I'm unhappy that a stranger...who has ne'er been aboard...is making the lass run like she ne'er has for me." The man waved his glass, then collapsed heavily on a nearby chair. "I'm unhappy because I dinnae know what changes Hornice made...and I'm unhappy because when he returns the old girl tae me, will she run as she did before he took over...or will she continue tae run better?"
There was absolutely nothing Jim could say. He stood silently for a few minutes, watching his chief engineer sip from his glass, then decided, that if he couldn't do anything, he might as well not do anything elsewhere.
The doors to Engineering hissed shut behind him when Nurse Chapel approached, holding a potted plant in her hands. "Captain!" she cried delightedly.
"Nurse Chapel," he responded.
"Look at this!" she cheerily commanded.
"What is it that I am supposed to be looking at?" he asked.
"This!" she held the plant closer to him.
"This?"
"Yes!" she chortled. "A couple of days ago, I was all set to throw this arboretum nouveau plantis into the refuse. I've tried every trick I know to get this thing to grow and bloom. And in two short days, it's turned into this lovely perfumed filled specimen." And without another word, she swept away, talking to the potted plant as if it were alive. Then she stopped in her tracks and called, "Captain, you must visit the arboretum before you beam down to Donelleda. You won't believe your eyes when you get there."
Jim stood still for a moment. Well, the arboretum was as good a place to "not do anything" until his supposed beam down time. He hastened to the arboretum, the space which was every crewman's favourite place to visit when homesickness became especially difficult. Somewhere in the hodgepodge of flowering plants and shrubbery, one could find some bit of the homeworld. There he or she would sit and eventually, the feeling would dissipate and the crewman could return to his or her assigned duties.
Jim stopped in his tracks, startled at the sight before him. The air was thick with a combination of perfumes exuded from plants that had miraculously grown to great heights and spans. Every time he had visited the arboretum, he was pleased at the gentle control kept over the plants, not taking up too much space or overwhelming the visitor with their scent. He hunted for the head biologist and found him at the farthest corner of the chamber. The man was sitting quietly beside a huge cactus. It had always been a runty little specimen, resisting efforts by the botany crew to reach its homeworld's dimensions. "Mr. Freel," Jim called. The young man leaped to his feet. "At ease, Mister," ordered the captain. The man visibly relaxed. "Can you explain this?"
The young crewman flushed. "N-no, sir, I can't," he stammered. "The only thing that has changed within the last two days is Hornice's taking control of the ship. And..."
"And?" Jim urged, knowing what was going to be said, but needing to hear it anyway.
"And every plant in this arboretum that was sickly or dying or just sitting dormant changed. I have plants flowering right now that haven't had a blossom since I was assigned to the 'Enterprise' two years ago. Fruit has appeared on bushes and trees where we couldn't even get a blossom."
"So you've attributed this change to Hornice?" Jim repeated.
"It has to be, Captain," Mr. Freel insisted. "That's the only variable that we know of."
With nothing more to say, Jim urged the young man to keep up the good work and left the green chamber. He was thinking to himself that Hornice had a lot of explaining to do.
"Jim!"
He turned to see the chief medical officer approaching. "I am really getting excited about meeting this Hornice character," Leonard McCoy gleefully chortled.
"Because?" Jim prompted.
"You won't believe Sick Bay," Bones turned to walk beside the captain, who decided to head for the bridge.
"Because?" Jim continued. He never really had to prompt his friend for too long. Bones was never hesitant about voicing his opinion and observations.
"I don't have anyone in Sick Bay, that's why," Bones snapped. "From the moment the ship was under Hornice's control, things began happening in Sick Bay that makes me want to meet this man, up close and personal."
"No one in Sick Bay?" echoed Jim.
"Yep. For all the work Nurse Chapel and I have had to do, we might as well close shop. I had an appendectomy to do and that little organ just righted itself all by itself. There were a couple of breaks and they healed without any action on my part. You know the acne scars on Cadet O'Toole's face?" Jim was about to respond but the doctor ploughed on. "Not a scar, not a blemish, nothing but clean, healthy pink skin on her. She danced out of there and went right out and asked Ensign McLean for a date. So, although I am not at all crazy about beaming down to Donelleda, I really, really want to meet this fellow."
At that moment, they reached the bridge. Upon hearing the doors open, Spock rose from the captain's chair and moved to his science controls. "We have reached the coordinates as directed by Hornice, Captain," Spock announced.
Jim slid into his chair. "On screen. Let's see what this little planet looks like."
All eyes turned to the viewscreen. A slight gasp is heard as the crew saw what lay out before them. Stars, twinkling in the distance, differing shades of black filled in the huge distances between them. They scanned the screen looking for the planet to which their ship had been sailing for over the last two days.
There was nothing there.
* * *
To be continued...
by Eleanor B. Kushnir
**** **** ****
Posted by Fred Herriot
fherriot@yahoo.com
**** **** ****
Based on "Star Trek," created by Gene Roddenberry
**** **** ****
NOTE: This story was started by my mother several years ago. She wrote two chapters to it before writer's block set in. Sadly, my mother passed away in August 2001 before getting a chance to return to this story. Those interested in continuing this story are welcome to do so. All proper credits are to be acknowledged, though.
TIMELINE NOTE: This story is set after the TV episode "The Doomsday Machine" and before "A Private Little War."
**** **** ****
In the beginning, there was nothing. And the Great Creative One saw that all was emptiness and blackness. S/He saw that this was not good.
So S/He clapped Her/is hands and all manner of stars and planets sprang from Her/is hands. S/He saw that this was good. The beginning and the ending of the first day.
S/He looked upon the planets and on some S/He separated the land from the water. Some S/He allowed to be filled with gases. Some S/He allowed to rest as they cooled down from Her/is great clapping. S/He saw that this was good. The beginning and the ending of the second day.
On all planets, S/He separated darkness from the light. S/He gave the sun in the day and the moon and other stars at night. S/He saw that this was good. The beginning and the ending of the third day.
On many planets, S/He filled the land with animals, the air with birds and the seas with fish. S/He saw that this was good. The beginning and the ending of the fifth day.
On one particular planet, S/He formed a people who loved Her/im and worshipped in all that they did. S/He saw that this was good. The beginning and the ending of the sixth day.
* * *
CHAPTER ONE
Captain's Log: Stardate 4207.1
We've just chased one of the most violent ion storms it has been my experience to study. My and I crew is exhausted. Even Spock seems to walk with a slight droop to his shoulders, the only visible clue that he's as worn and tired as the rest of us. What we need is to find a place for some R and R.
But where in this quadrant is there such a place?
* * *
Jim Kirk slouched in the captain's chair, counting the minutes until he would be officially off duty. His relief had not reported yet. It didn't matter. As soon as the clock read 1600 hours, Jim intended to leave command to Spock and head to his quarters for some badly needed rest.
"Captain," cried out Uhura. "Incoming message from Starfleet. Marked 'For Your Eyes Only' and 'Urgent.'"
With a groan, Jim stood, stretched himself erect and turned to his science officer. "You have the com, Mr. Spock." He strode away, not looking to check that the best science officer in the Fleet had taken the seat he had just vacated. "I'll take it in my quarters," he informed Uhura, then stretched again after hearing the turbolift doors hiss closed.
A minute later, he tapped in his security codes and waited for the call to be piped in. Kirk inwardly groaned on recognizing the officer. Commodore Kowolsky, the greatest desk jockey in the Fleet. Rumour had it that he was one of the few men who actually slept his way to his present position. In the old days, women were accused of such behaviour out of jealousy that they had invaded the male dominated inner sanctum of Starfleet Command...but after a few brilliant leaders arrived and left their mark, that ugly rumour was laid to rest. It was now used as a sign of disrespect for any flag officer who had not run the gauntlet of space travel. Jim groaned yet again. The wrong orders from this yo-yo could easily kill his crew and destroy his ship. "Yes, Commodore?" he said instead.
"We've been reading your reports on this ion storm, Jim," the senior officer began. "Everyone here is very impressed."
'They should be,' Jim thought to himself. 'There hasn't been the likes of that type of storm in recorded space-faring history.' Instead, he smiled, "Thank you, Commodore Kowolsky. I'll be sure to relay your comments to my crew."
"Well, be that as it may..." continued Kowolsky, as if Jim had not spoken. How the man loved the sound of his voice. "...we've received a curious message from a planet in that quadrant, asking specifically for you and your services."
"A planet? In this quadrant? With interspace communication ability?" Jim punched in some keys to call up a diagram of the space about the 'Enterprise.' Sure enough, a tiny planet, some light years away, but close in space terms, wobbled about a small star at the very corner of the quadrant. "Who is it and why do they want me?"
"It seems that you have done their people some great good and they want to meet with you."
"What good?" Jim felt irritation cover his exhaustion. He didn't like that combination. It made his thinking dull and irrational. For a starship captain, that was dangerous.
"They didn't say, Jim. But I told them that you'd be there as soon as they sent you their coordinates. However, in the interest of interstellar peace and good will, I've accepted their invitation for you. Good Luck! Starfleet out."
"Wait...!" yelled Jim. But the blank screen told him that any further yelling would do no good. He hit a button on his console and roared, "Spock!!"
"Yes, Captain," came the prompt cool reply.
"Could I see you in my quarters?" Jim asked through clenched teeth. He collapsed onto his chair and pulled his hands over his face. He was tired. His crew was tired. And now Starfleet wanted him to visit some people of whom he had no knowledge?! On top of all that, he didn't care.
The doorway soon swished open to reveal Spock. Jim signalled his science officer to enter and sit down. Spock moved silently across the room and sat before the captain's desk. Silence.
Slowly, Jim cleared the cobwebs from his brain, "That was Starfleet." Spock made no comment. He knew his captain would get to it eventually. "It seems there is this planet in this quadrant and they have invited me to visit because I have done them some great good. I have no idea as to who these people are..."
"Donelledons."
"Excuse me?" Jim eyed his science officer. Of course, he would know. "And they are...?"
"There is insufficient information concerning them. For a considerable period of time, it was believed that this world and its people were just a rumour. A small planet far away from the beaten path, so to speak. But enough traders and merchants have visited Donelleda to give credence to that planet's existence."
"I don't know any Donelledons," Jim protested.
"You may have encountered them off world, Jim."
"But what do you know?" Jim raised himself wearily and walked to his private cabinet and drew a bottle of brandy. He was officially off-duty and could indulge.
"According to all reports, they are humanoid," answered Spock. "An attractive people by Terran standards, very slight in build, not tall. The most often used term merchants who visited them employed was...'charming.'"
"Charming," echoed Jim.
The intercom whistle. "Captain Kirk. Incoming message from the Donelledons," Uhura hailed. "Shall I relay it into your quarters?"
"Certainly," responded the captain.
The console beeped. On the screen appeared a gentle looking male, his head covered with wispy reddish hair. A smile across pleasant features provoked a responding smile from the captain.
"Captain Kirk?" the man inquired.
"James T. Kirk of the Starship 'Enterprise' at your service, sir," Jim surprised himself at the courtliness of his tone.
"Wonderful! Wonderful! I am named Hornice, the First Speaker for the day."
"What can I do for you, Mr. Hornice?" asked Jim.
"Please, it is just Hornice," he chuckled. "We have no titles as you have them in Starfleet."
"Again," Jim repeated. Only Spock heard his captain's teeth grind. "What may I do for you?"
"We are most anxious to meet with you, Captain Kirk," the gentleman pleasantly continued. "I have given your chief engineer the coordinates of our homeworld and you should be here, at Warp Three-point-two...in 2.17 days."
Jim looked at Spock, whose only response was an elevated eyebrow. "Hornice," Jim began. This time he made no attempt to hide his frustration...
The screen went suddenly blank, followed by a colourful expletive from Jim. "The cheek of the man," he yelled.
"Apparently, he is accustomed to being obeyed," surmised Spock.
"Well, he can go to hell...!!" Jim roared. "Engineering!" he hit the console.
"Scott here."
"Belay those orders. I'm not going anywhere near..."
"But Captain," Scotty protested. "The ship's engines ha' been locked in tae Hornice's coordinates and we're going there whether we like it or not."
"What?!" Jim exclaimed, then leapt to his feet and dashed out of his quarters. Spock followed closely behind.
Minutes later, Jim burst into Engineering to find Scotty standing quietly beside his console. "Unlock us, Scotty."
"I cannae do that, Captain," burred his chief engineer. "I've tried every trick I know o' tae undo what Hornice set up...but nothing I know nae works."
"That's impossible, Scotty," Jim protested. "You're the best engineer in the Fleet."
"I concur," Spock interjected. "However, the Donelledons, isolated the way they are in this quadrant, could easily have developed engineering principles which we do not know of."
"So, you're telling me..." began Jim.
"Yes, Captain," nodded Spock.
"Aye, Captain," echoed Scotty. "We're going along whether we like it or not...so we might as well enjoy it."
Without another word, Jim Kirk wheeled about on his heels and exited Engineering. Scotty gave his famous Gaelic shrug and Spock raised an eyebrow...
* * *
Captain's Log: Stardate 4207.2
For two days, Enterprise has been locked on the coordinates set into the ship's computers by Hornice of Donelleda. At first, I was enraged at this effrontery. But, for some reason, I have since calmed. I don't feel as tired as I did when the message from Starfleet came. Even the crew seems to have got the chance to rest. It's almost as if with Hornice taking control of the ship, everyone from myself down can relax. Someone else is in charge...even though we don't know anything about this stranger.
* * *
Jim entered his quarters. He was wondering what, if any, equipment he should take with him when he went to Donelleda. He had asked the ship's physician to stand by to accompany him. Leonard McCoy eagerly agreed and, in mock humour, began stacking all manner of suitcases and boxes in the transporter room. Bones loved to complain about his fear of having his atoms spread through the galaxy, but nevertheless, stood ready when called upon.
"Captain," Jim heard his chief engineer call to him.
"Yes, Scotty," he answered.
"Could ye be stoppin' at Engineering before you beam down?"
"Sure, Scotty. Problem?"
"I dinnae want to say exactly that. It's just a puzzlement and I need tae talk with ye about it."
Without another word, Jim hastened to Engineering. He knew Scotty loved the ship...and if there was a 'puzzlement,' the man was beside himself looking for some solution. The doors hissed open. Scotty stood at his control panel, slouched over. He also had a glass of what looked like scotch whiskey in his hand. Jim covered his shock with a stone face.
"What is it?" he asked coldly. "Some sort of malfunction?"
"Nae," Scotty drawled out. "Nae problem at all."
"Then explain yourself, Mister...and tell me why my chief engineer is drinking on the job."
"Aye, yuir correct, Captain, when ye point out I'm drinking. But I'm nae drinking 'on the job.' In fact, I haven't been 'on the job' since that Hornice kidnapped my ship and is making the lass run smoother than I've e'er been able to in all my years here."
Silence.
"You're unhappy...because the ship is running smoothly?" asked Jim.
"I'm unhappy that a stranger...who has ne'er been aboard...is making the lass run like she ne'er has for me." The man waved his glass, then collapsed heavily on a nearby chair. "I'm unhappy because I dinnae know what changes Hornice made...and I'm unhappy because when he returns the old girl tae me, will she run as she did before he took over...or will she continue tae run better?"
There was absolutely nothing Jim could say. He stood silently for a few minutes, watching his chief engineer sip from his glass, then decided, that if he couldn't do anything, he might as well not do anything elsewhere.
The doors to Engineering hissed shut behind him when Nurse Chapel approached, holding a potted plant in her hands. "Captain!" she cried delightedly.
"Nurse Chapel," he responded.
"Look at this!" she cheerily commanded.
"What is it that I am supposed to be looking at?" he asked.
"This!" she held the plant closer to him.
"This?"
"Yes!" she chortled. "A couple of days ago, I was all set to throw this arboretum nouveau plantis into the refuse. I've tried every trick I know to get this thing to grow and bloom. And in two short days, it's turned into this lovely perfumed filled specimen." And without another word, she swept away, talking to the potted plant as if it were alive. Then she stopped in her tracks and called, "Captain, you must visit the arboretum before you beam down to Donelleda. You won't believe your eyes when you get there."
Jim stood still for a moment. Well, the arboretum was as good a place to "not do anything" until his supposed beam down time. He hastened to the arboretum, the space which was every crewman's favourite place to visit when homesickness became especially difficult. Somewhere in the hodgepodge of flowering plants and shrubbery, one could find some bit of the homeworld. There he or she would sit and eventually, the feeling would dissipate and the crewman could return to his or her assigned duties.
Jim stopped in his tracks, startled at the sight before him. The air was thick with a combination of perfumes exuded from plants that had miraculously grown to great heights and spans. Every time he had visited the arboretum, he was pleased at the gentle control kept over the plants, not taking up too much space or overwhelming the visitor with their scent. He hunted for the head biologist and found him at the farthest corner of the chamber. The man was sitting quietly beside a huge cactus. It had always been a runty little specimen, resisting efforts by the botany crew to reach its homeworld's dimensions. "Mr. Freel," Jim called. The young man leaped to his feet. "At ease, Mister," ordered the captain. The man visibly relaxed. "Can you explain this?"
The young crewman flushed. "N-no, sir, I can't," he stammered. "The only thing that has changed within the last two days is Hornice's taking control of the ship. And..."
"And?" Jim urged, knowing what was going to be said, but needing to hear it anyway.
"And every plant in this arboretum that was sickly or dying or just sitting dormant changed. I have plants flowering right now that haven't had a blossom since I was assigned to the 'Enterprise' two years ago. Fruit has appeared on bushes and trees where we couldn't even get a blossom."
"So you've attributed this change to Hornice?" Jim repeated.
"It has to be, Captain," Mr. Freel insisted. "That's the only variable that we know of."
With nothing more to say, Jim urged the young man to keep up the good work and left the green chamber. He was thinking to himself that Hornice had a lot of explaining to do.
"Jim!"
He turned to see the chief medical officer approaching. "I am really getting excited about meeting this Hornice character," Leonard McCoy gleefully chortled.
"Because?" Jim prompted.
"You won't believe Sick Bay," Bones turned to walk beside the captain, who decided to head for the bridge.
"Because?" Jim continued. He never really had to prompt his friend for too long. Bones was never hesitant about voicing his opinion and observations.
"I don't have anyone in Sick Bay, that's why," Bones snapped. "From the moment the ship was under Hornice's control, things began happening in Sick Bay that makes me want to meet this man, up close and personal."
"No one in Sick Bay?" echoed Jim.
"Yep. For all the work Nurse Chapel and I have had to do, we might as well close shop. I had an appendectomy to do and that little organ just righted itself all by itself. There were a couple of breaks and they healed without any action on my part. You know the acne scars on Cadet O'Toole's face?" Jim was about to respond but the doctor ploughed on. "Not a scar, not a blemish, nothing but clean, healthy pink skin on her. She danced out of there and went right out and asked Ensign McLean for a date. So, although I am not at all crazy about beaming down to Donelleda, I really, really want to meet this fellow."
At that moment, they reached the bridge. Upon hearing the doors open, Spock rose from the captain's chair and moved to his science controls. "We have reached the coordinates as directed by Hornice, Captain," Spock announced.
Jim slid into his chair. "On screen. Let's see what this little planet looks like."
All eyes turned to the viewscreen. A slight gasp is heard as the crew saw what lay out before them. Stars, twinkling in the distance, differing shades of black filled in the huge distances between them. They scanned the screen looking for the planet to which their ship had been sailing for over the last two days.
There was nothing there.
* * *
To be continued...
