2267
The Enterprise trembled.
Captain James T. Kirk sat in the command chair at the center of the bridge, concerned for the safety of his ship and crew. Nearly a week ago, as they’d surveyed unexplored space, long-range sensors had recorded an aberrant and inexplicable reading. The crew had investigated the source of the anomaly to discover a fluctuation in the very fabric of the space-time continuum, something for which neither Spock nor any of his science staff could provide even a theoretical basis. Occurring within a relatively small area—less than a cubic kilometer—the phenomenon had initially appeared to be localized, but then sensors had identified a second such instability, slightly larger than the first. Inspection of the second fluctuation had resulted in the detection of a third, fourth, and fifth—all larger than the first two—and those had led to still others.
For days, the Enterprise crew had tracked the abnormalities across space, all the way to an uncharted planetary system filled with them. Spock had determined one of the inner worlds to be the central locus, and therefore the possible source, of the instabilities. Kirk had chosen to take the ship into the system, despite having to pass through areas of affected space, which acted upon the Enterprise like turbulence.
“Completing preorbital approach,” said Lieutenant Hadley at the navigation console.
“Entering standard orbit,” Lieutenant Sulu confirmed as he worked the helm station. Kirk peered at the main viewscreen at the front of the bridge and saw the copper-colored image of the world below. Blotches of white across the globe lent it a cold, unfriendly appearance. Sensors had revealed no indications of sentient life anywhere on the planet.
Again the Enterprise shuddered.
“Mister Scott,” Kirk said, glancing over to the engineering station on the raised, outer portion of the bridge. “Shield status.”
Standing beside the console, Scotty leaned in over Lieutenant Leslie’s shoulder and studied the displays for a moment. “The shields themselves are holding, but for some reason it’s taking extra power to control them…to control all our systems.”
“It is the effect of passing through the unstable regions of space,” Spock said from the sciences station. “They appear to be stationary, though, so once we have those about the planet mapped, we should be able to avoid them on subsequent orbits.”
“Very good, Mister Spock,” Kirk acknowledged. The captain understood and embraced the crew’s mission to explore the unknown, but it made him anxious when the ship became so directly affected. Still, in addition to the scientific questions they raised, the fluctuating patches of space-time posed a potential threat to navigation in the region. The Enterprise hadn’t passed through any of them while traveling faster than light, but doing so could have had an impact on the warp drive. Rather than simply quarantining the area, Kirk had instead opted to seek out the cause of the unusual areas.
“Captain,” Spock said, and Kirk turned in his chair to see the science officer stand from where he bent over his hooded sensor monitor. “I am reading microchanges in the flow of time.”
“What?” Kirk said, standing from his chair and making his way over to Spock. “Explain.”
“Sensors are detecting microscopic pockets of space where the rate at which time passes is either faster or slower than in neighboring space,” Spock said. “The alterations appear to be emanating outward from the planet in waves.”
“Could these waves be dangerous to the ship?” Kirk asked. As though on cue, the Enterprise shook once more. Both Kirk and Spock reached out to the edge of the sciences station to steady themselves.
“I do not believe so,” Spock said when the quaking ceased. “The pockets are too small, too widely spaced, and last too short a time for that to be the case.”
Kirk looked over at the main viewer again, at the lifeless planet about which the ship orbited. “Can you determine precisely what is sending out these waves?” he asked.
“Scans are so far inconclusive,” Spock said.
“Can we send down a landing party to find out?” Kirk wanted to know.
Spock’s brow creased as he appeared to consider the question. “I do not know,” he said. “While I do not believe the ship is in danger in orbit, it is unclear if a transporter beam could safely traverse the waves. Further analysis would be needed.”
“Understood,” Kirk said, and then stepped down to the lower portion of the bridge. Reaching up to the arm of the command chair, he activated an intercom circuit. “Kirk to transporter room.”
“Transporter room,” said Lieutenant Kyle, the words delivered with his English accent. “Go ahead, Captain.”
“Mister Kyle,” Kirk said, “I am considering transporting a landing party down to the planet below, but we are reading pockets of temporal flux radiating from there. Details from Mister Spock. I want you to determine whether or not it would be safe to beam down.”
“Aye, sir,” Kyle said.
“Kirk out,” the captain said. He closed the channel, then sat back down in the command chair. He waited patiently as the crew continued studying the unusual readings on and around the planet.
Periodically, the Enterprise quivered, the movements sometimes barely noticeable, other times quite the opposite. Kirk continued to receive reports on the condition of the ship’s systems. Should the crew be put at greater risk, he would not hesitate to break orbit and vacate the region.
After a time, as Spock scanned for and located the instabilities about the planet and Hadley adjusted the Enterprise’s orbit accordingly, the ship trembled less often and with less force. As Kirk waited for his people to perform their duties, he felt like standing and moving about the bridge, but until the ship stopped shaking completely, he decided to remain seated. “Mister Brent,” he said, “status of life support.”
“Nominal, Captain,” the lieutenant said from the environmental-control station to the left of the main viewscreen. “They’re still drawing more power than normal, but so far that’s not an issue.”
At midwatch, Yeoman Takayama produced a data slate with a ship’s status report. Kirk reviewed and then signed it. The yeoman left the bridge to deliver the report to the records section, then returned a few moments later.
The ship abruptly shuddered again, harder than it had for some time. Then it happened a second time, and then a third. Brent stood up and moved to a secondary station on the other side of the bridge, where he checked the readings there.
“Ach, that bumped up the power draw,” Scotty grumbled. “We’re still in the green, but we won’t be if we start shaking again.”
“Understood,” Kirk said, just as the ship rocked once more. “Stay on top of it, Mister Sulu.”
“We’re holding orbit, sir,” Sulu replied. “The helm is sluggish.” Again the ship quaked, and then once more.
“Control circuits threatening to overload, Captain,” Scotty said.
“Understood, Engineer,” Kirk said. He pushed himself up out of the command chair and made his way back over to the sciences station. “Mister Spock,” he began, but stopped when another wave buffeted the ship. He nearly lost his footing, and Brent nearly did too as the lieutenant crossed in front of Kirk on the way back to the environmental-control station. As the captain reached Spock, he said, “We can’t avoid these areas of turbulence?”
“I believe we’ll have them plotted in a few more orbits, Captain,” Spock said.
Behind him, Kirk heard an electric sound and saw a flash of bright light. He turned quickly to see a shower of sparks erupting from the helm, Sulu flying from his seat. Kirk bounded back down to the lower section of the bridge, pressing the intercom button as he reached the command chair. “Sickbay, to bridge,” he ordered. He passed the helm, from which smoke drifted upward. On the deck, Yeoman Takayama cradled Sulu’s head in her lap. Unmoving and with his eyes closed, the lieutenant appeared to have lost consciousness.
“Switching to manual,” Scotty said as he descended toward the helm. “Do we maintain this orbit?”
“Spock?” Kirk said as he examined Sulu.
“This is of great scientific importance, Captain,” Spock said. “We’re actually passing through ripples in time.”
“Maintain orbit,” Kirk said, standing back up.
“Aye, there,” Scotty said as he sat down at the helm console.
At this point, Kirk realized, with the Enterprise clearly at some greater risk, he would have to contact Starfleet. He walked toward the communications station and saw Lieutenant Uhura standing just behind the command chair. “Open a channel to Starfleet Command,” he said.
“Aye, sir,” Uhura said, moving back to her station. Kirk followed her there. As he did, he saw the black armband still wrapped around the left sleeve of Uhura’s uniform, which she’d requested permission to wear after learning of the death of her mother.
“Precautionary measure, Lieutenant,” he said. “Broadcast to Starfleet Command my past week’s log entries, starting with the unusual readings we had on the instruments and how they led us here. Inform Starfleet Command that apparently something or someone down on this planet—” Behind him, he heard the turbolift doors open. He turned to see McCoy entering the bridge. “Bones,” Kirk said, pointing toward Sulu, and the doctor headed for the downed officer. Addressing Uhura again, he continued, “Can effect changes in time causing turbulent waves of space displacement.” As he spoke, he went back down to the center of the bridge, to where McCoy now examined Sulu.
“Some heart flutter,” the doctor said as he adjusted a hypo. “I’d better risk a few drops of cordrazine.”
“It’s tricky stuff,” Kirk noted. “Are you sure you want to risk—” But already McCoy had applied the hypo to the base of Sulu’s neck. The device hissed as it dispensed the powerful drug. Immediately, Sulu’s eyes flickered open. The lieutenant pushed himself up, a confused smile appearing on his face.
“You were about to make a medical comment, Jim?” McCoy asked with dry sarcasm.
“Who me, Doctor?” the captain said, even more dryly.
At the helm, Scotty turned toward Kirk. “We’re guiding around most of the time ripples now, Captain,” he said.
“Good,” Kirk said, and then he headed back toward the sciences station. They couldn’t remain in orbit if it meant control stations around the ship would begin overloading. “Mister Spock?” he said.
“All plotted but one, Captain,” Spock said. “Coming up on it now…seems to be fairly heavy displacement.”
Two seconds later, the Enterprise jolted badly. Kirk grabbed the bridge railing to keep from being thrown to the deck. Amid the vibrations of the ship, though, he suddenly heard an unexpected sound: the long whisper of a hypo. Kirk whirled toward the sound and saw McCoy doubled over the helm. Even as the doctor stood up and spun away, the hypo continued to hiss. Finally, as it stopped, McCoy collapsed to the deck, to where an injured Sulu had lain only moments ago. At once, Sulu, Takayama, Uhura, and Leslie hurried to the fallen doctor.
“Bones!” Kirk called. He rushed across the bridge to his friend. “Get back to your positions,” he told the crew around McCoy. Already the doctor had managed to get to his knees, though he remained bent over, his hands at his midsection. As the crew returned to their stations, Kirk kneeled beside McCoy to examine him. Spock, he saw, had followed him over from the sciences station.
“The hypo, Captain,” Spock said, plucking the device from the doctor’s hands.
“It was set for cordrazine,” Kirk said.
Spock pulled the drug reservoir from the end of the hypo. “Empty,” he said.
“Communications,” Kirk said, “emergency medical team.”
With no warning, McCoy bolted upright, his eyes wide, his face bathed in a sheen of perspiration, a wild yell issuing from his mouth. Kirk and Spock both stood back up at the doctor’s side. “Killers!” McCoy screamed. “Assassins!” Slowly, he began to rise to his feet, his hands clutched to his stomach as though still holding the hypo. “I won’t let you! I’ll kill you first! I won’t let you!”
As McCoy stood completely up, Kirk reached for his arms, concerned that the doctor might match his actions to the violence of his cries. Spock took Kirk’s lead and reached for McCoy as well, but the doctor threw his arms into the air with surprising force, breaking the grips of his friends. He turned and dashed up the steps and toward the turbolift. The crew started after him, as did Kirk and Spock, but then at the turbolift doors, McCoy turned back in a threatening stance. Everybody stopped.
“You won’t get me!” he yelled. “Murderers! Killers!” He dashed into the turbolift, the doors opening to reveal technician Wilson.
“Grab him,” Kirk yelled as he and Spock raced after McCoy. But the doctor seized Wilson and hurled him from the lift, directly into Kirk and Spock. The doors closed, and by the time Kirk got there, the turbolift had already begun its descent from the bridge.
Kirk turned and saw many of the crew still on their feet, still gazing, stunned, toward the lift. Uhura stood by the command chair, and Kirk gestured to her. “Security alert,” he said, and as the lieutenant moved back to her station to set the shipwide alert and inform security of the situation, the order seemed to rouse the rest of the crew from the shock of what they’d just witnessed. Scotty sat back down at the helm, while Leslie returned to the engineering panel.
“Captain,” Sulu said, “I can take my station.”
Kirk assessed him for a moment, but though the lieutenant looked well, he had just been treated for heart flutter. “Negative,” Kirk said. “Yeoman Takayama, escort Mister Sulu to sickbay and inform the medical staff about what happened to him.”
“Aye, sir,” Takayama said, and the two officers began toward the lift.
As Spock headed back to the sciences station, Kirk peered over to the engineering console. “Mister Leslie,” he said, “how are the control circuits?”
“Showing normal loads now, sir,” Leslie said. “Now that we’re avoiding the areas of instability, we should be fine.”
As Kirk walked toward Uhura, he saw Wilson standing there, looking to him questioningly. Obviously he hadn’t come to the bridge expecting to be attacked. “Sir?” he asked. “We saw a warning light for the helm.”
“We’ve got it on manual right now,” Scotty offered. “See if you can reroute the secondaries.”
Wilson looked to the captain again, who nodded. Once the technician started for the helm, Kirk addressed Uhura. “Lieutenant, contact security,” he said. “See if they can tell where McCoy exited the turbolift.”
“Aye, sir,” Uhura said.
“Spock,” Kirk said, continuing over to where the science officer now worked his panel. “What information do we have on cordrazine overdoses?”
“Checking now, Captain,” Spock said. “There appears to be very little in the literature. It may take a few minutes to collate all of the available anecdotal data we have.”
“All right,” Kirk said. “In the meantime, I’m going to sickbay to see if anybody down there has any firsthand knowledge. You have the bridge.” Kirk strode back to the turbolift, the doors opening this time to reveal an empty car. He entered, took hold of a control wand, and ordered the lift to take him to sickbay.
In his mind, he saw the feral expression on McCoy’s face, heard his delusional cries. Kirk knew of cordrazine from an incident that had occurred earlier in his career aboard the U.S.S. Farragut. After circumstances had resulted in a landing party having to hike three days over mountainous terrain in brutally hot conditions, an older officer had suffered a heart attack. The med-tech present had been left with no choice but to chance a minimal dosage of cordrazine.
The officer had died instantly.
When the turbolift doors opened, Kirk headed for sickbay, deeply concerned for his friend.
Spock sat at the sciences station on the Enterprise bridge and pored through the library record tapes, searching for whatever accounts he could find relating to cordrazine overdoses. As he’d told the captain, the medical database contained almost no such information. The scientific data did, however, expose the perils of utilizing the drug at all. While it had proven exceedingly effective in treating heart-related impairments in humans and several other species under the right conditions, it also had a long history of fatal applications. Incorrect diagnoses and inexactly calculated dosages had often resulted in death to the patient.
During the medical testing of cordrazine prior to the adoption of its use, the impact of an overdose of the drug had been believed apparent. Since it functioned as a strong stimulant for the cardiac muscles, an excess would likely damage the heart to the point of arrest, even in otherwise healthy patients. In most of the very few recorded instances of cordrazine overdose, that had been the case, with death typically occurring within seconds.
Obviously, that had not happened to Dr. McCoy. Spock did manage to find several reports that chronicled the fate of individuals who had survived having massive amounts of the drug injected into their bodies. In addition to stimulating the heart, cordrazine apparently could have an effect on brain chemistry. In an incident on Earth, in Stockholm, Sweden, a researcher had accidentally ingested a large quantity of the drug. Apparently believing himself under attack, he had barricaded himself in his lab. When colleagues had attempted to push their way inside to help him, they’d found that a trap had been set for them. A chemical explosion had killed seven people—including the original researcher—and injured twenty-three others.
In another incident, a disturbed individual had tried to use cordrazine to commit suicide, at least according to a note that he had left behind explaining his actions. Instead, he had survived, but had lost all knowledge of the people in his life. The condition had persisted for weeks, until he’d been found dead after putting a phaser to his own head.
In a third episode, a physician at the University of Alpha Centauri had suffered an overdose of cordrazine, though under what circumstances had never been determined. She had been found unconscious and taken to a hospital, from which she had subsequently vanished. Five months later, her corpse had been found halfway across the quadrant, in a public lodge in the city of Eglantine on Stygian III. An autopsy had failed to pinpoint the cause of her demise.
On Rigel II, a woman who danced regularly at a cabaret had been found lifeless in her dressing room. A postmortem examination had revealed that an extreme amount of cordrazine had been introduced into her body over a period of time. A criminal trial had later seen a jealous patron of the cabaret convicted of poisoning her with the drug.
In all, Spock found thirty-seven documented occurrences of individuals who had experienced a cordrazine overdose. Of those, only three had survived and returned to a normal life. Eight-point-one percent, Spock automatically thought, calculating Dr. McCoy’s chances for a full recovery.
Poor odds, he concluded. Poor odds indeed.