Spock was running with the pa'ash-limuk. Though their herd pace was slower than his normal running speed, they were his best protection against the giant otter-like carnivore that preyed upon the herbivorous plains-dwellers—a creature that Spock, in a moment of nostalgia, had dubbed le-matya t'eiktra—the le-matya of the plains. True, the new discovery exhibited little of the Vulcan predator's characteristics, apart from savage claws and a tendency to feed upon whatever hapless creature came to hand. However, as the first scientist to describe the animal, Spock felt he should be granted some leniency with nomenclature.
The pa'ash-limuk were themselves fascinating creatures. Coarse-haired and stocky, with multi-toed feet, they resembled something like a cross between a Terran baboon and a llama, but were as large as horses. Their unusually small heads rested on top of a thick, elongated neck. A single nostril opened at the top of the head; from it, the pa'ash-limuk emitted a series of mellifluous tones, each of them meaningful within the context of the herd.
When he had begun studying them, six days earlier, he had been unaware of the deep, sustained boom that warned of the approach of their natural enemy, the Emagian le-matya. Spock was then unprepared for their reaction. On that first day, with patience, he had worked his way into the center of the herd, observing the beasts using their peculiar, flattened mouths and rasping tongues to scrape up lichen and fungi from the plain. Though interested in his presence, they were not unduly alarmed; doubtless they could tell by his scent that he ate no meat. As a humanoid, he was beyond their experience, so they were content to keep a wary eye on him and go about their normal affairs.
Then one of the beasts on the perimeter of the herd had issued the booming warning call. Heads went up as one, and the herd bolted, drawing close together as they picked up speed. Spock ran with them; he had deduced the likely cause of their behavior, and judged it prudent to take evasive action until he should have time to study whatever predator stalked them.
Sensible though his action may have been in that regard, Spock soon realized, as the herd crowded closer in their defensive behavior, that he was at risk of being crushed between the barrel-shaped bodies. He had no choice but to grasp the rough-haired "mane" of the closest pa'ash-limuk and swing himself up on its back. The beast had not been pleased with this move, and it spent the next quarter of an hour bucking and bleating, trying to dislodge him, even as it continued to run with herd. As a result, Spock's first glimpse of the le-matya t'eiktra had been rather choppy. Fortunately, he was able to follow up his initial experience with more detailed observations the following day, when he had the opportunity of watching from a hidden vantage point as the carnivore stalked and brought down a pa'ash-limuk in another herd.
On the third day, Spock broke off his studies of the plains creatures to move into the mountains. The geology was as interesting as he had anticipated; over the next two days, his small pack bulged with mineral specimens he intended to take back to the shuttlecraft for further analysis. The air was surprisingly warm; he found he needed to wear his jacket and long pants only overnight, when the temperatures fell. During the day, his movement kept him sufficiently warm that the sahr-fek sufficed, regardless of the terrain.
The mountain journey was therefore less arduous than he had predicted. The weather was accommodating, the ice fields manageable; in fact, the only difficulty he encountered was on the evening of the fourth day. He was descending a rocky channel from one range of peaks into the neighboring valley, a circumstance which unfortunately rendered flight problematic. From a hundred yards above his right shoulder, he heard a clattering of rock and a sharp whistle. He turned to find two stocky, short-legged creatures with heavily armored skin, reminiscent of a Terran ankylosaur, scuttling his way. As a departure from their Ankylosauridean relatives, however, these sported impressive boar-like tusks, which they popped at him in animal fury. The sonic repeller had no effect; neither did Sulu's noxious pellets slow their charge. But when he smeared a lichen-covered stone with some of Dr. McCoy's firestarter material and aimed the shot right under the nose of the first at point-blank range, the resulting bang and flash of fire was enough to drive the creatures away. He must remember to thank the good doctor for giving him such a useful defensive tool.
He bivouacked in the foothills the final night, and then rebundled his pack securely for the long race across the plains. He was certain that a message awaited him from Nyota, and he did not wish to keep her waiting long enough that she became concerned. Pleasurable as it had been, he would be unable to make such a lengthy excursion again. Prudence dictated that he remain within a day's travel of the shuttlecraft during his last couple of days. He had calculated the odds at 86% for an early termination of his leave; Starfleet was notoriously possessive of its officers' time. However, they had shown extraordinary generosity in granting him an entire Earth month to reflect upon and sort out his personal issues. In that regard, his leave had been a complete success. Were he forced to leave Emagious III this morning, Spock thought as he began his run in the predawn light, he felt sufficiently composed that he should be able to carry out his duties with his customary efficiency.
The morning passed pleasurably. The dryer terrain of the foothills gave way to the moist, fungal covering of the plains. Comfortable now with the gravity and his footing, Spock made good speed. The misty banks that hovered above the plains seemed like familiar acquaintances; the herds of pa'ash-limuk that rose out of the fog were welcome friends. Often they took Spock's movement as a signal that they themselves should run; in these instances, Spock ran along with them, until the herd—whether out of tiring or a sense of territoriality—turned aside, and he continued his journey alone.
The morning was much advanced, and Spock had completed nearly 40% of his return journey. It was during one of these companionable interludes with the herdbeasts that he heard the characteristic call: the deep boom that signaled the presence of a le-matya t'eiktra. Familiar as he was now with the pa'ash-limuk's response, Spock glided effortlessly toward the center of the tightening herd. He moved as the beasts moved, anticipating their reactions sufficiently that this time he was in no danger of being crushed. In fact, the puffing, charging bodies all around him merely added zest to the invigorating nature of the day. He increased his speed with theirs, enjoying the opportunity to really stretch his legs and cover some ground.
It was in the midst of this activity that he felt the telltale tingle in his extremities that signaled contact with a transporter beam. Spock experienced a brief moment of alarm. After all, the Enterprise was not supposed to retrieve him; he was intended to rendezvous with them in space at the end of his leave. Yet some other starship happening to come across him on this uninhabited planet and choosing to beam him aboard was more unlikely still. Logic suggested that the Enterprise had come for him early. Being unable to contact him by communicator (which was safely stowed in the Galileo), they naturally would have scanned the surface to locate him.
His speculations were confirmed a moment later, when the redolent plains were replaced by the sterile confines of the Enterprise's transporter room. Instantly Spock felt the cooler air of this human environment embrace him; the brief sahr-fek had not been manufactured for such an atmosphere. While it was not precisely inappropriate for Spock to be out of uniform, as technically his leave had not ended, his present dress was not comfortable for current conditions. He intended to change as soon as possible.
Mr. Scott and Technician Lumley were behind the transporter console, while Dr. McCoy and Nurse Chapel stood beside them. Although they must have anticipated his arrival, every one of them was staring at him in a most peculiar manner. It was a fixed, open-mouthed gaze. In Spock's experience, humans were rather more vocal than otherwise. Yet the only person who said anything was Lumley, who merely murmured, inexplicably, "Oooooh, yeah."
Mr. Scott immediately pressed his comm button. "He's here, Captain, all in one piece." He paused. "He looks very well."
"Thank you, Mr. Scott. Check him over, will you?"
"That's what the doctor's here for."
Spock was pleased to note that Mr. Scott had compensated for his forward momentum; otherwise, he'd have sprinted straight off the transporter pad and run headlong into the nurse, an impact that could only have led to deplorable consequences. He took a moment to adjust to the ship's gravity, and then started to step off the pad.
Dr. McCoy recovered from his momentary stupor and stepped forward, hand raised. "Hold it right there, Spock!" He turned toward Mr. Scott and Technician Lumley. "Decontaminate," he ordered.
Technician Lumley made no move to comply, merely continued gazing at Spock. She seemed to have an unnatural rigidity to her posture, as did Nurse Chapel. Most unusual.
Mr. Scott leaned over in front of his assistant and pressed the appropriate button. The familiar hum and flicker of the decontamination beam played over Spock's body.
"So, what were you doing down there?" McCoy said genially, checking through his bag for particular instrument. "Running from a pack of wild dogs?"
Obviously the sensors had picked up the movement of the pa'ash-limuk just before they'd beamed him aboard. "No."
McCoy looked up, surprised. Technician Lumley and Nurse Chapel simply looked. "You weren't running from a wild animal," the doctor said doubtfully. "Jim made the beam-up sound urgent."
Spock saw no reason to make an issue out of a perfectly normal attack of a le-matya t'eiktra on its natural prey. "I was running," he answered.
"I see." McCoy found the instrument he wanted and waved it through the air in Spock's direction, its chirp supplementing the cyclic hum of the decontamination beam. "Don't tell me," he said through the interference. "That's a special Vulcan running suit."
Spock stood a little taller. "It is called a sahr-fek."
"Huh." McCoy adjusted his settings. "It suits you." The doctor seemed to be in a good mood. Spock wasn't certain he'd ever seen Dr. McCoy in a good mood before; certainly not with him. He wasn't certain how to interpret it. Perhaps his absence had had a beneficial impact on crew morale. It would be regrettable if his presence had a dampening effect on the optimal functioning of the crew.
Yet, Dr. McCoy seemed to be weathering his reappearance rather well. "Just be patient another minute, Spock," he said in his relaxed country twang. "I want to make sure you aren't bringing any bugs aboard."
"He looks... really healthy," Technician Lumley muttered. "Really. Healthy."
"Very fit," murmured Nurse Chapel.
McCoy seemed both irritated and amused. "Why don't you check his pulse and blood pressure, Nurse Chapel? Then you'll know." When the nurse continued not to move, McCoy mumbled, "Then again, maybe you ought to check your own."
Nurse Chapel jumped. "I'm sorry, Doctor." She began waving her own little chirping device in the air. Spock noticed that she was studying him quite closely, doubtless searching for any physical impairments. Her concern for his well-being was commendable, although unnecessary.
"I assure you, Doctor," Spock announced, "I am quite in the peak of health. Furthermore, having spent 28.6 days on Emagious III, I can assure you that there are no inimical organisms present either on the planet's surface or my own."
McCoy continued his examination. He was in a peculiar mood, as he seemed to be fighting a smile. "It never hurts to be sure, Mr. Spock."
Technician Lumley had recovered to the degree where she had pressed the intercom link. She bent low and spoke rapidly into it, never taking her eyes from Spock. He could not understand her fascination with present events; perhaps she had never observed a decontamination cycle before. He could not read her expression, but the rapid movement of her mouth and the intensity of her gaze suggested she had something urgent to communicate. Unfortunately, Spock could not make out the substance of her call over the hum and whine of the equipment. Only a word here and there, such as "amazing" or "unbelievable," escaped the interference.
Spock glanced around, but could observe nothing that would warrant such attention. Mr. Scott, at his technician's side, seemed perfectly at ease with the situation. In fact, he seemed to follow Lumley's conversation with amusement. Spock concluded therefore that nothing very serious was out of order.
McCoy turned off his scanner. "Okay, you're clean." He turned toward the transporter console. "Mr. Scott, you can turn off the beam."
Mr. Scott did so, reaching around his assistant once again. Lumley, still gazing at Spock, bit her lower lip. "So, um, you're okay, Mr. Spock?"
"Perfectly, Technician. I thank you."
McCoy directed his gaze toward Nurse Chapel, who was continuing her scans beside him with rapt attention. "Thank you, Nurse," McCoy said loudly. "I think we have enough data now to ascertain Mr. Spock's condition."
Nurse Chapel started as her concentration was broken. She really did show a most estimable interest in the health of the crew, although in Spock's opinion she must work on her ability to remain cognizant of her surroundings at the same time. "Yes, Doctor. I'm sorry. I just wanted to be sure..." She lifted her gaze to meet Spock's eyes. "Are you certain you're all right?"
"Yes, Nurse."
"Because if you feel dizzy or ill, or disoriented from the change in pressure and atmosphere, I'd be happy to look you over further in Sickbay."
"Such an examination would be unnecessary. I assure you that I am perfectly well." He once again began to step off the pad.
"Mr. Spock!" Scotty called. "You're wanted immediately on the bridge."
Spock hesitated. "Very well, Engineer. I will report there as soon as I have changed into my uniform."
"No, sir. Now, sir. Right away." Mr. Scott looked apologetic. "I'm sorry, Mr. Spock. It's just that we got this message from New Vulcan that no one can translate. It came in a day and a half ago, and we can't make heads or tails of it."
Spock frowned. "Lieutenant Uhura was unable to translate?"
"That's just the trouble, sir. She got most of it, but there's this part in the middle that we can't understand. We're at our wits end. The captain rushed us over here hoping you'd be able to shed some light." Mr. Scott gave him a serious look. "It could affect the whole mission."
McCoy was staring at Mr. Scott with amazement. "Scotty... what are you talking about?"
Mr. Scott glared at him. "The message from New Vulcan. With all due respect, Doctor, your responsibility begins and ends with medicine. Ye'd do best to let me use my own judgment in matters pertaining to the mission at hand!"
McCoy raised his hands and took a step back, shaking his head. "Fine, Scotty, whatever. Go ahead."
Technician Lumley hurried forward. "I'll escort Mr. Spock to the bridge."
Spock was puzzled. "Technician, an escort will not be necessary."
"What she meant to say," Scotty said, stepping forward himself, "was that the turbolifts are out of order."
"They're what?" McCoy yelled.
"They are," Scotty continued. "The entire deck." He turned back to Spock. "You'll have to take the access tunnel down by the main junction."
McCoy's expression resumed its familiar glare. "I came down here on the turbolift."
"That ye did, Doctor, but they've broken down since. Just now, in fact."
Spock nodded; that explained the urgent communication Technician Lumley was making earlier over the intercom. He strode forward. "Very well, Engineer. I shall do as you advise."
"Thank you, sir. I'll get right on these repairs."
"Thank you, Engineer. Report your status to the bridge."
"Aye, sir."
The transporter room doors opened, and a surprising number of people sprang back from the entrance to give him room to enter the hall. Many of them, the women in particular, exhibited the same wide-eyed, open-mouthed stare that Spock had observed on the faces of those behind him when he'd first materialized. As his arrival aboard ship was obviously well known, he could see no logical reason for such surprise.
Perhaps Dr. McCoy's wild animal story had circulated throughout the ship. "I am uninjured," he said to the group in general, as a means of reassurance.
"Yes," said the closest woman, a physicist named Guthrie. "You certainly are."
"Very fit," murmured another.
Spock nodded, and turned in the direction of the main junction. There were an extraordinary number of people in the corridor. Typically he would see an average of 3.4 crewmen along this passageway at this time of day. Today, however, there were at least twenty, not counting the group he'd left at the transporter room door. Most of them were hurrying his way, then stood off to the side and stared as he approached. Were they dismayed by his return? They did not greet or recognize him in any verbal way; overall, their behavior was very odd. He nodded acknowledgement, and continued on his way.
As he neared the junction, he could see yet more crewmembers hurriedly ascending the access tunnel ladder from a lower level and springing into the hall. Obviously the turbolift malfunction on this deck was severely impacting the efficient movement of crewmembers all over the ship. Clearly, more effective measures must be put in place to handle personnel relocation when one or more of the turbolifts were off-line. At the next department head meeting, he intended to raise the issue with Mr. Scott.
As before, the crewmembers around the access tunnel wordlessly made way for him, backing awkwardly into the walls with wide eyes. It baffled Spock that he could not interpret their expressions. They did not precisely seem happy or unhappy to see him, so his morale theory received no assistance either way, although their eyes followed him eagerly. It was most perplexing.
"Up ladder," he said, as he reached the access tunnel.
"Yes, sir!" answered the crewmember in casual dress just stepping from the tube. Spock recognized her; Ensign Pok, from Security. She was assigned to the night shift; it was curious that she should be up. Still, from the way her eyes sparkled, she seemed completely alert. Perhaps she was assisting with the turbolift malfunction. He nodded and stepped past her.
All down the hall, Spock had been quietly relishing the ease of movement brought about by operating in a lighter gravity. Released from the planet's heavy grip, his strides were long and light, his gait unusually springy. It reminded him of when he had first relocated to Earth. Intrigued by the way the reduced gravity seemed to amplify his strength, the 17-year-old Spock had engaged in a variety of what might be considered reckless stunts—rock climbing and cliff diving and so forth. It was a liberating feeling that complemented the way he felt inside, freed of his parents' influence and ready to pursue his own course in life.
Today, striding up the starship's corridor, he felt much the same: energized and loose, ready to take on the world. He did not normally engage in feats that showed off his physical strength; he felt such demonstrations to have an alienating influence upon the humans with whom he primarily worked. Yet, faced with the access tunnel ladder, he couldn't resist the impulse to test himself in this lighter gravity. Instead of grabbing the rails and ascending the rungs—which would be the normal mode of locomotion—Spock simply flexed his legs and bounded up the inside of the tunnel. At the peak of his lunge, he grasped the rails and propelled himself upward in a mighty push, turning at the apex of his leap to spring out the opening onto the next floor. He landed lightly, pleased with his dexterity.
He looked up, to find he'd almost bounded into a female crewmember who'd been about to descend the ladder in the direction from which he'd just come. She gasped and stood back, stepping into her male companion in her haste, although her preventive action still only managed to put eighteen centimeters of space between them. She stared up at him, her eyes huge.
"Forgive me..." Spock ran over the crew's profiles in his head, "Biologist Mubarak. I carelessly neglected to consider that someone might be about to descend the shaft. I trust that I did not startle you too badly."
The woman continued to stare. This hall, too, had an unusual amount of activity, with at least a dozen crewmembers converging on the access tunnel. They all froze in their tracks at Spock's abrupt appearance.
Spock narrowed his eyes at the unresponsive woman in front of him. "Crewman, are you well?"
"She's fine, sir," the crewman behind her said nervously. He had a protective hand on her elbow, but she seemed unaware of his presence.
"Forgive me, Ensign Vandenbosch, but her reactions seem significantly impaired."
"No," Vandenbosch said hurriedly. "She's fine, really."
"Su... suh... sir," Biologist Mubarak stammered—and then said no more.
Spock met the crewman's eye. "Perhaps you should escort her to Sickbay."
"Thank you, sir. I'll do that."
As Spock turned to leave, Vandenbosch called after him, "Welcome back, sir!"
The staring people lining each wall smiled then, too. Perhaps they were not in fact distressed by his return, as Spock had speculated earlier. They were merely restraining themselves from an exuberant show of welcome out of deference to his known preference for nonemotion. That would be a pleasing turn of events. However, he still intended to ask the Captain at some future point about the crew's morale, comparing the period during his absence with that following his return. Perhaps he could make some adjustments in his own behavior that would better support crew amity.
"Thank you, Ensign," he responded to Vandenbosch. "It is agreeable to be back."
Someone behind him, some other member of the crew, mumbled to someone else, "He's got an agreeable back." At least, that's what it sounded like. Yet it was such an illogical statement—how could a back be agreeable?—that Spock dismissed it from his mind.
Nodding to passing crewmen, who continued to stand aside and stare with astonishing regularity, he continued his course to the bridge.