"Crew of the Enterprise, there is no cause for alarm. I wish only to come to understand you, which is why I am scanning you. My name is Al'lhamotundi. Translated into your standard, it means betrayed. I am of a race unknown to you as yet. We call ourselves Straeberss. To explain to you why I am here would be impossible in this limited time experience. You need only know I am here to help. Ambassador Hislaid sent a distress signalto you. I knew of it and came to Sagiton in an eddort to solve its problems. A great disease had spread over the planet but I have discontinued it. The planet which you orbit is now devoid of disease of any kind as you know it. There is no death, no pain, and no worries. As a speaker for all Saigitians, we ask you to join us in a "Garden of Eden," to become one with us in all things. Your Captain and friends have already joined us. You need only beam down (yes, I have fixed your transporter) and enjoy the fruits of everlasting happiness. To convince you that I speak the truth, I will show you your Captain and comrades in the paradise they have entered."

A picture appeared on the bridge's sceen. On it was, indeed, Kirk and the remaining landing party. They were in a place one could only name paradise. It was spring and a smile of ecstasy was on every face. Kirk sat lazily by a spring of gurgling water, laughing at no one, talking to himself. McCoy had fallen asleep under a southern cotton tree in the shade of a hot afternoon. Allen was climbing a large apple tree, shaking the apples down to a blissful Repart. McRow was cooling her feet and spalshing about in Kirk's stream. Only Spock was missing from the scene. After a slight flicker of light on the picture, he, too appeared. An uncharacteristic smile on his face, he was strolling along an orchard path, humming some strange Vulcan melody. Then the screen went blank and Al'lhamotundi's voice filled the air again.

"We wait your convenience. COme soon, my friends. Every moment you waste, you lose a moment of paradise." The voice seemed to remain a moment longer, then deceased, and the buzzing gradually faded away into silence.

All eyes were on Scotty. He was far too involved in his own thoughts to answer them. The Enterprise had happened on a paradise once before, and if this one was at all like it, the crew must be restrained from going anywhere on the planet. On the other hand, Kirk had looked so utterly satisfied how could he refuse the crew when he himself would love to go down there? Besides, Kirk looked free to return to the hsip at any time. But there were several things tugging at the end of SCott's mind. Mr. Spock looked too unnatural for one thing. This straeberss was a bit too slick, a bit too persuasive. And his name meant Betrayed, not a good sign. Not to mention the fact that Kirk would never let his ship be abandoned, even for paradise. So, now all Scott had to do was convince the rest of the rew of one of two things. Either Kirk had gone mad, or was in "eden" against his will. Nothing a miracle couldn't cure. Scott turned to Uhura. "Give me the Transporter room."

"Yes, sir," she answered, giving him a look of childish bewilderment, seeking adult guidance.

"Is that you, Willis?" Scotty called into the intership communicator.

"It sure is, sir," replied the voice on the other side.

"No one is going ot beam down unless I give my personal say-so. Do you understand that, me boy?"

"But, sir. It's paradise down there, just waiting for us."

"Aye, laddie, but what is it waiting for? Just follow my orders."

"I'll try, sir, but some of the crew is getting pretty desperate for shore leave and I don't know if I can hold them off."

"If you have to destroy the whole transporter system, no one is getting down to that planet. Understood?"

"Yes, sir."

Scott sighed and ran a roughened hand across his perspiring forehead. This job was going to be toughy. He hated working against the crew, even in their own best interests. Kirk was known as the highest morale-sustaining commander in the galaxy, but even his crew had its downs. What he wouldn't give for a little of that paradise Kirk seemed to be enjoying right now. It wasn't until just then that Scott noticed that eyes were still on him. "Well, what are ye all staring at? Get back to work, Mr. Sulu, Mr. Chekov, Ms. Uhura. Have we have transmissions from the Captain?"

She looked at him quizzically, as though asking if she had if she wouldn't have relayed them to him, as acting commander. But nonetheless she answered with a short, "No, sir."

"Then I would like to send a message back to command."

Uhur nodded and said, "transcribing, sir."

"USS. Enterprise Stardate 4903.2 Lieutenant Commander Montgomery Scott as acting commander. Captain Kirk and the landing party arrived on Sagiton in the shuttlecraft Soliloquy over four hours ago. We have no communications with them since they leftthe mothership. We have had a transmission, if one might call it that, from a --Uhur, what was that name again?

"Al'lhamotundi, Betrayed One."

"Yes, Al-lhamotundi who claims he was privvy to the distress call sent to the Enterprise and answered it himself by going down to the planet and curing the disease that had been ravaging them, and all other disease on the planet. Al'lhamotundi, Betrayed One in standard, has now created a paradise on Sagiton and invites all aboard the Enterprise to enjoy an atmospehere of no pain, worry, or disease. We were shown an image of the captain and the others on the planet, enjoying the "Eden." They seemed perfectly well and able to do as they wished, but as looks are often deceiving, I have taken the liberty of closing all passage from ship to planet. This Betrayed One claims to be of a race unknwon to the Federation, but by the name Straeberss, apparenty highly advanced. Why only one is on Sagiton was not explained. It is my opinion that a small group should beam down to the planet (Al'lhamotundi fixed the transporter as a sign of "goodwill") and investigate. If they , too, don't communicate after a set time, the Enterprise should either leave the sector or receive reinforcement. Awaiting your instructions. You know the rest, Uhura."

"Uh-huh," she answered, more than slightly bemused at Scotty's style of speech. He had extensively curtailed it, using none of his well known Scotch dialect, into almost sounding written by Kirk himself.

One young man on the bridge was not amused with Mr. Scott's professionalism. In fact, Kier Richards was much perturbed. He knew, of course that Mr. Scott was only doing what Kirk would have done, but that hardly mattered. Richards dind't approve of either Kirk or Scott's methos of morale-sustaining, and he planned to do something about them. While Kirk was a legend in his own time, and known for running a tight ship, nothing could be done as far as High Command was concerned. But since Kirk was the best in the galaxy, Richards knew the place to start Star Fleet Reform was here. If he could just show how fragile the balance of command was held, all was possible. It had taken him 6 years to contrive to get himself placed on the Enterprise. Of course he had done it very carefully and very methodically. No one would have ever known he'd been waiting anxiously for a chance to get on this ship. But oh, how he'd planned, spent hours at night plotting step by step how he could get close to Kirk, close enough to watch his methods, get to know them, and attack them when the time was right. And now was the time. Richards looked around the bridge disdainfully. Mr. Chekov, Sulu, Uhura, Ransin, Ak'tor, all loyal, devoted followers of Kirk. No, he would find no sympathy for his cause here. First he must get off the bridge, somewhere close to the crew, close to as much of the crew gathered together as possible. And he must enlist the help of some higher-ups, either voluntarily or not. Willis at Transporting would be a welcome, but not mandatory addition. Perhaps Mullen or Carsie, they seemed born trouble makers. And someone from the medical sections. Chapel would have to come, and one other. Whoever she chose. Someone from Science--a portable science like Physics or biology, something he could use if called to defend the cause with arms. They'd have to make home base near the "mess" hall and maybe recreation area, which would give them a little something to bargain with. While as those who did not join the cause would hardly starve or be in any real dire straits from lack of exercise or fresh food, it could wear on their nerves. But first on the list was to get out of here. And the quickest way to do that was simply to faint. So he did.

Chekov wasn't even looking in the direction of Kier Richards, but he heard a strong thump on the ground and turned to see Sulu running towards the young radical. Richards was given the nickname "Huey" when he first came on the Enterprise. But it was rarely used now as Richards had since curbed his verbal abuse of what he called "the system."

Chekov rushed over to help Sulu. But he was of no help. Richards was a little gray, but nothing a quick hypo and rest wouldn't help. Scott had already called for Nurse Chapel, who was there a couple minutes later, and Richards was carried off the bridge on a stretcher.

After all the excitement was over, Chekov started to get worried. Why had Kier Richards suddenly dropped like that? He was hardly prone to fainting and nothing had affected the others on the bridge. Either some outside force had singled him out, or--Chekov couln't think of an "or." So Al'lah wasn't as peaceful as he claimed to be. What was going on on the planet? Obviously, the landing party was not safe. Something had to be done about it, and fast.

He looked at Scotty, whose mind was going through the same thoughts, but was at a loss as to a decision. According to regulation 98A article 4, he was not authorized to send out a rescue party without orders from Fleet Command. Mr. Spock had been known to do so, but officially received a reprimand, even though his operation was a success. A failure could result in more unpleasant results. not that Scott was too worried aobut disciplary actions. He'd give his life to save Kirk's, but how could he know if he could even help? It might be a waste of time, money, and lives. Scotty couldn't take the lives of the rest of the crew for granted. Besides, Kirk would never allow him to jeopardize any one of his crew or his ship. Not that he could stop him now, anyway. He oculd ask for a volunteer party, send them down with a responsible person in command, and gie them a time limit for the rescue attempt, while he stayed on the ship and waited for definitive orders from Command, or news from Kirk. It seemed a cowardly way out, and if anyone had told Scott so to his face, he probably would have ended up going, but his understanding that Kirk would want him here, on the ship, prevented it.

He flipped the all ship communicator on the arm of the command chair and composed a short, to the point, speech to the crew. "A rescue party of volunteers only will be asked to assemble at the briefing room at 1600 hours. I repeat, only volunteers are going on this mission. Do not feel obligated to come. A group of only 4 will be selected. You will be given a limited amount of time to find and rescue the landing party. If you have not found them by that time, you will beam up. If you do not, we will assume you are either dead or have been captured. No other rescue party will be sent out. Thank you." <.p>

Scott looked at his chronometer. He had 15 minutes before 1600 hours. 4 people for a rescue party was almost absurd. If Spock were there, he undoubtedly could have quoted the odds of their success. They were gri, but any more people would have been impossible to coordinate in the limited time he planned to allot. He could only pray for the luck of the Irish and the skill of the Scotch.

Richards, on the other hands, had the odds in his favor. Once in the air lift, he swiftly got out of the stretcher and explained his position to Chapel. As might have been expected, she declined his offer, and would have touched the emergency alert if he hadn't have grabbed her and held his hand over her mouth.

"Listen very carefully, Christine. Now, you think I'm a madman, don't you? No, don't try to treat me like a child. You do think I'm crazy, don't you?" He pulled her arms tighter behind her back and Chapel held back tears of pain and nodded. "Yes, I thought so. But I'm not, you know. No madman would have gone to the trouble I have. No madman could have waited patiently while his name was passed over for placement time and itme again. What madman could have stood by and bided his time until the exact moment came to prove Kirk the bungler that he is? No madman could have. But I could. Kier Richards could. And I will be remembered for it. The greatest reformer of all time. Can't you see the textbooks about me, Christine? Can't you, I asked." Richards pulled still tighter until she yelped in pain and nodded again. "Yes, I will be famous, but first I need your help. You understand, don't you?" Chapel needed no prompting to nod this time. "Now, when I take my hand off your mouth, you're not going to scream, are you?" Christine shook her head in the negative. "Good, because I have a phaser in my hand set on kill, and I'm not afraid to use it for the cause. Now here I go, I'm taking my hand off. There, that was very good Christine. Now I want you to wipe those tears form your eyes and put a smile on your face. I don't suppose you would have any powder on you, would you?"

Christine shook her head.

"Oh, too bad. Well, smile now and I'll link arms with you. We're almost to my level. When we get out, you won't try anything, will you? Well, say something. Are you mute?

"no, Kier. No, I'll do just as you say, just calm down. If you'd just let me take you to the medilevel, we could sit down and have a nice talk and--"

"And end up in the brig for all my troubles. No, I'll thank you to stay out of my affairs. I think I liked you better mute. That bad you've got has emergency med-supplies in it, doesn't it?"

Chapel nodded. "Good. If we need anything else, I'm sure we can just ask for them. After all, Star Fleet is too soft to let a mutineer like me die of wounds, aren't they? Besides, it would mae bad publicity. We want good publicity, don't we, Christine? That's why I chose you. You have a beautiful smile, when you care to use it on any but that Vulcan of yours, and your legs are fantastic. Now give me one of those smiles you're famous for giving to Mr. Spock."

Chapel tried to, but the result was unconvincing. It looked indeed exactly like it was, a woman being kidnapped and ordered to smile. It seemed to satisfy Kier Richards, though.

"There, you see, it's not going to be that bad. You and I could get along very well. After all, I'm hardly a monster. Some have even called me handsome." Something in Richard's face flickered. "But there will be time for all that later. You're still saving yourself for that Vulcan. Don't you know he'll never come around. After you get to know me, maybe you'll feel differently. Well, here we are. Step out, my sweet." The lift doorsopened and holding Chapel's arm, Richards carefully led her through the halls of the recreation deck.

They stopped at a door labeled "Gym" and entered. The area was practically deserted, not uncommon for this time of day, Chapel thought. Of course he had planned it that way. The most dangerous madmen were the smart ones. Well, this is what I get for staying aboard a staship and not settling down and getting married with some nice, rich merchant.

Richards carefully manipulated the controls as to allow his voice only to be heard in one room at a time. First he called his cabinmates. They began arriving within a few minutes. Then, selectively they singled out others to join their cause. Within an hour, the gym was quite full of a group slowly growing into a mob. The noise level began to accelerate, as Richards watched on with approval, and Chapel wth horror.

She wondered desperately how anyone was going to get down to the planet and help Kirk with a mutiny in progress. There must have been at least 200 people gathered. Half the crew! Richards had certainly gotten around! He must have been quite convincing, but it was said that madmen always are. She recognized most of the people. They were hardly what one would call the mutinous type. She'd known many to profess profound admiration and deep loyalty to the Captain. Well, Richards hadn't been nicknamed "Huey" for nothing. And all the while, he'd been quietly adding to his forces, she'd though he was getting conservative. An actor, too, he was, on top of everything else. What was Scotty going to do?

Mr. Scott was heading towards the briefing room after 15 minutes of tense and agonizing boredom. 5 minutes before he relinquished the con, he'd noticed all three of his command personnel, doing the same thing. The coincidence did not escape his mind. He'd already decided which of them could go and which could not.

Passing through corridors, he saw them strangely sparesely populated. If he was back on Earth, he'd have said it was the night shift. More important things displaced farther deliberation thereon, however, and he assertained his proximity to the briefing room by the noise level. However many times they remake the decibel level absorption of walls on starships, humans seemed to have a knack for raising their voices high enough to be heard outside a room. When he entered, it became quiet and all stood. Scott was surprised at the lack of volunteers. Originally, he'd debated on holding the selection in the gym, but it was hardly waht one might call crowded, and Scott realized his worries had been unnecessary. Not a compliment to Kirk's abilities, however, he observed wryly. Uhura, Sulu, and Chekov, were all there, as he had expected, along with Lt. Riley from Engineering, Yeoman Mai, Retired Admiral Ashley, and Nurse Jenike, who reminded him of CHapel. He wondered why she hadn't come. Of course with McCoy already on the planetand Chapel the senior medical officer, she probably thought it was best foor her to stay on board. And indeed, Scott thought, had she been there, he would most certainly have not allowed her to come, but still, considering Spock was on the planet, you'd think she'd at least make an appearance. Maybe she'd given upon the Vulcan, finally. It would only be for her own good. Spock was never too fond of the situation anyway. Why were his thoughts always wandering, he wondered. Age does strange things to one's mind. This life was not for him much longer. Star Fleet never actually retired its people, it just gave them more "respectable" jobs--like research. When Montgomery Scott got the foot, there was no way he was going to stay at some desk job. He'd buy a ship of his own and go from there--wherever "from there" took him. Back to the present, laddie, he reminded himself, and bade all to sit down again as he took his place at the head of the table and turned on the computer.

As usual, the ocmputer went round and took down the names of all present, including their ranks and merits. Then it waited for Scott to officially begin. He did, after a few moments of waiting, just to keep everyone on their toes. "I want each of you to explain to me why you should be selected to go on this mission, and then I wil tell you who is going. Understood? Good. Let's begin with you, Nurse Jenike."

Renate Jenike cleared her throat and looked up at Scott shyly. She began to speak very self-consciously. Obviously a new recruit, he thought.

"Well, sir, I'm a nurse. I think you will need a nurse down there because if you don't have one, chances of coming back alive are slim. I've had extensive survival training courses, and grew up on a number of alien planets, which should enable me to better adjust to the conditions of Sagiton."

Scott waited a little longer, usually these explanations went into great detail. Not that i mattered. He'd always preferred the short and sweet idea.

Jenike cleared her throat again. "That's all, sir."

Scott gave her a pleasantly surprised look and turned his eyes to Chekov.

"I'm strong, young, and know Captain Kirk and most of the landing party quite well. You know the rest of my qualifications.'

Scott nodded and looked at ex-Admiral Ashley.

"I have held the highest rank and the leadership of a sapient person will obviously be needed if we are only to have a short amount of time. Besides my self-evident amount of superior experience, I have received the silver cluster 3 times, the award of extraorindary merit twice, the acheivement of physical fitness each year, the act of courage in the face of death twice . . ."

Scott was beginning to nod. Awards put him to sleep, as did speakers who openly flaunted theirs. Admiral AShely was 90 years old, hadn't been on active duty for 10 years and was a pompous old fire-breathing drgaon of a fool. He was only on the ship to return to his home planet to retire anyway. And he would be included in the mission because he had the rank, experience, and most of all, connections to demand it. And Ashley knew it, too. Why he was making a speech was beyond Scott's comprehension. He was just one of those people who enjoyed tooting his own horn. And Scott could do nothing to put an end to it except bide his time. In that facet, at least, he did not envy those who were accompanying the Admiral.

Ashely gave Scott a quick look to determine whether or not he was listening. He wasn't. And just to make sure, Ashley added in his own little award.

"The most gracious award of royal pomoposity. . ."

Scott didn't even look up.

"The achievement of declining senility . . ."

Nurse Jenike beside him suppressed a chuckle.

"The deed of blunt imbecility.:

Jenike was not doing very well at suppressing her giggles.

"Mr. Scott are you listening?" asked AShely.

Scott looked over at him drowsily. "Certainly, sir," he said.

"Can you repeat what I just said?"

Scott was more that infuriated. As acting commander, none had the right to treat him this way. "Computer, rewind and repeat Admiral Ashley's last three statements."

The computer did. Scott kept a placid face on, and said, "Anything wrong?"

Ashley gave Scott a knowing wink and said, "No, sir." He was definitely going to liek this young man. Just like himself, he was. A little more hot-tempered, but that would come with time. "I think that's it, Lt. Commander Scott."

Scott nodded at Riley.

"My only qualification for this mission is that I have none. Therefore Star Fleet will not be losing a vital asset if they lose me," Riley defended himself with a fierce pride.

Scott motioned toward Mai.

"Ditto," she said sullenly.

Scott looked around the table. Deliberately omitting Uhura, Sulu and Chekov, he turned sharply to the computer and asked it, "What is your suggestion, computer?"

The computer hestiated and made a noise strangely similar to a human throat clearing. "Nurse Jenike, Lt. Riley, Yeoman Mai, and Lt. Chekov."

Scott looked at Ashely, catching his eye and announcing that Ashely, Chekov, Jenike, and Mai were to be the rescue party. With no further ado, he stood up and said, "You have 5 minutes to report to the transporter room with survival kits, supplies, and uniforms,. Dismissed." Scott then left. He had extremem misgivings about sending the 90 year-old ex-Admiral down, but he didn't have a choice, as the ocmputer did. He'd made it very clear to the Admiral that it was--to coin a very old and well-used phrase--illogical for him to go. But in the same look Ashley had simply communicated-- we both know I'm going, though, don't we? It was out of his hands now. Back in his seat at the bridge, he'd barely had a chance to get comfortable, when another voice enveloped the ship for a minute. Scott thought it was Al'lhamotundi again. His relief after learning it was not was short-lived.

Strong, confident, and unmistakably jubilant, Kier Richards' voice began yet another crisis. "My dear friends and countrymen, lend me your ears. I come not to praise Kirk, but to bury him. And I shall. Mr Scott, sir. I have half the crew assmebled in the gym ready to mutiny on my command. Either you give up, or else. . ." Richards luahged quite maniacally. "Or else my dear acting commander, we will make you give up. You have one hour. I'm awaiting your formal resignation of command to me quite eagerly."

Richards' vboice had become cold as steel again and Scott wondered why in the world this happened to him--always.

Chapter Four

John led a very begrimed and exhausted landing party through the streets of Kyetl with ears sharper than a Vulcan's he'd listened to the sparse conversation of the humans. Strange, he thought, but he felt sympathetic towards them. Why they had to be part of Al'lhamotundi's plan was sad. But a servant does not question his master. Suddenly, John was horrified. He had just allowed his thoughts to stray from the cause. It was most definitely the influence of the humans. Unmistakably, they were dangerous. He chanted slowly, Allhamotundi is good. He knows all. There his mind had chekced the individual thoughts that had momentarily controlled it. He was nearing the place where he would no longer need to come in contact with the humans. He was relieved. He gestured expansively with his arms to a large building on the left. Taking the humans to the door, he left to go to other tasks.

Jean McRow had been observing their humanoid guide for quite some time since their arrival. With all her psychologist's experience, he was still a challenge. After all, her specialty was in civial war, not robopsychology. But from what his facial expressions, too finely tuned to a real humans's to give none, she learned that he was far from the contented slave. In fact, he was becoming increasingly confused. His mind told him to obey only the logical, slave-like reactions of his kind, but as a humanoid, his "heart" or whatever his creator had put in its place, was leaning more towards the emotions of the humans who surrounded him. If perhaps she could accentuate that side of her personality, John could become, to say the least, a very valuable ally. First, she must observe more. It had been some time since her classes on robopsychologoy in the Academy. Psychologists were required to take mini-classes in a certain amount of fields other than their major, and robotics seemed quite intriguing. It was new ground for advanced robots hadn't existed very long in the Federation, and the science of robopsychology was more of a reasearch than a field-work job. One of the most important points her professor had stressed was the need for robots to stay in the field of manual labor, out of human contact. For in human contact, most of the problems occurred with them. Too many robots had simpy shut themselves irretreivably off because of the conflicitng emotiona nd logical struggling for power in their minds. More often thatn not, neither power was stronger than the other, and the robots simply could not solve their own inconsistencies and committed suicide--or roboticide as it was now being called, given a name to distinguish it from the self-destruction of life. There were, of course, robots whoe logical impulses wonout over their emotional ones. But robots with that experience generally ended up useless piles of scrap metal. Complaints by owners were "too sel-centered," "ruthless," "disregard for human or any other life." No cases of emotionality winning out over logic had been recorded to date, as far as McRow knew. The Federation's androids were of no comparison to John, however. He was an exquisite piece of workmanship theoretically. She remembered her professor remarking, a robot who is created with the sole intent of being human will convince itself that it is such. For where can the line be drawn? If a being is intelligent enough to want to be human, how can it be denied the rights of a human> McRow had the funny feeling that here was the robot to go where no robot had gone before--humanity. First, she would observe. Surely there must be others somewhere in the city. As the landing party had hiked through town, not one human eye had met their curious gazes. Not even a robot, such as John was seen. She knew that Spock, with his more direct line of thinking, would ponder that ifrst. And probably find it fascinating, she though wryly..

Jean McRow was not wholly correct. Spock did indeed scrutinize the shortage of inhabitants, but true to form, paid due attention to their robot guide. He concluded that John was capable of independent thought and therefore the consideration of an intelligent being. As the android also seemed to be under someones control, John must also be classified as a slave, in need of liberation. As to the lack of people on the streets, Spock hadn't enough information to understand. He suspected that quite soon his information would undertake a large growth. He was correct.

After John, Kirk was the first to enter the old-style Kytel city hall. His eyes were met with quite a shock. Inside the building was pitch black. The only source of light came from a room that was also emitting a pulsating vibration. By the time Kirk's eyes had adjusted to the absence of light, John was nowhere to be seen. Conceivably there was no reason for Kirk to go further. No reason except that he was Kirk, a starship captain, and curiouser than his first in command. He felt the group behind him, none uttering a sound, all waiting for his command. He said nothing, but just moved towards the room. He was unprepared for the reception he received, and jumped loudly enough only for Spock's ears to catch.

"I am Al'lahmotundi, your savior. Kneel and submit your minds."

Kirk only noticed his surroundings. He did not need to be told where he was. The name of "the savior" was hanged, admittedly, but he could not be mistaken as to their whereabouts. It was almost as if Kirk could have looked up and seen written in the sky, "Garden of Eden." The planet life was exorbitant. He doubted if even the ship's bontanist could have named each piece. A large tinkling of water gave away the presence of the smallest of streams overhead. Kirk noticed what he knew must be an illusion, a cloudless blue sky. Animal life was not to be easily seen. But as Kirk walked slowly through a growth of trees into a meadow, he caught sight of two animals he was almost expecting--a lamb and a lion lying down together. Then Kirk remembered with a start that probably no one else in the landing party would understand the significance of what he had seen and heard. Ancient Earth religion was not something that everyone was expected to keep up on. Kirk turned around to explain. His mouth opened and clsoed again. There was no one there to talk to. They'd followed him to the dense wood, he was quite sure of that. That left one of two solutions. Either they had been removed, or he had. Kirk reflected a moment. No, there was one other possibility. If neither or all had been transported here, perhaps they just couldn't see each other, or maybe only Kirk could not see them. In any case, it was obviously the doing of the Al'lahmotundi whose voice they'd heard. A command decision was in order. EIther he should stay where he was and wait or he could try to find Mr. Al'lahmotundi. Both were equally distasteful. But if Kirk remembered correclty, Adam supposely walked and talked with his God. If Al'lahmotundi were playing true to the Bible, Kirk could just wait until he made his appearance. What in the world was he supposed to do until then? He could build a shelter, but it would be gorssly unneeded as, none of the wildlife was harmless. Food was everywhere he looked. No need to gather it. Kirk desperately wished he had a book with him. He recalled briefly that in the Bible, Adam was naked and was not ashamed. With a quick look at himself, he ascertained that he was still fully clothed in Star Fleet uniform. Obviously Mr. Al'lahmotundi was not as exacting as he would like to appear. He was still in an impossible situation. How does one get out of Eden? Kirk suppressed a boysih grin as he remembered the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil. If he could just find that tree, he could at least get away from this hum-drum existence. He couldn't recall any particular identifying mark mentioned anywhere, and he could hardly expect a "Beware" sign! In the book, Eve had found the tree. Kirk hadn't seen Eve around anywhere, either. Perhaps Mr. Al'lahmotundi had made another slight error.

As if in answer to Kirk's doubts, Kirk heard a voice signing its--her--heart out.

Haven't I read this somewhere, he thought wryly. He looked up at the sky and said, "OK, you win!" and walked towards the sound. It led him to a stream. Of course, he thought. Before he even saw her, he knew she would be bathing in the nude. This is so old and stale, he said to himself. Couldnt' Mt. Al'lahmtonudi be a little more original? Kirk wondered for a moment if his "Eve" would speak standard. Usually they didn't but occasionally they had a command of the language similar to a five year-old Terrna's, and continually asked, "why." Kirk was not disappointed when Eve looked up, saw him, and continued with her bathing.

"Hello," he said.

No answer.

"Hello." A little louder this time.

Still no reaction.

"Guten Tag," he tried. "Comment allez vous?" Still no answer. Kirk shrugged his shoulders resignedly and sat down on a nearby rock. A good a place as any to wait for Mr. Al'lahmotunid's appearance. He was throwing pebbles into the water, trying to make them skim gracefully. There was a certain knack to it, one he'd lost since the last time he'd sat by the side of a stream--about 40 years ago about now.

Then she spoke after a long, heavy sigh. "Oh, dear. I'm afraid you'll never get it, Adam."

Kirk stared hard at her. She got up out of the water and just as he was about to obligingly avert his eyes, he noticed she was anything but nude. In fact, she was wearing the most unrevealing, heavy, ugly swimsuit Kirk had ever seen in his entire life. It was a pity, he thought. She did have a rather nice figure. And even that bathing suit couldn't hide it. Then Kirk frowned as he remembered her wrods. She'd called him Adam. He hoped fervently it was only because she knew as much about ancient Terran religion as he did and not because they knew each other.

Eve jumped lightly out of the water and slipped over to Kirk's side. Looking around for a suitable pebble, she got behind Kirk. She put the pebble in his hand, pulled it back horizontally, and threw it. The pebble skimmed across the surface of the water beautifully. Even gave a quick burst of joy and said, "There, you see? That's how you do it. Now try it by yourself."

Kirk shrugged inwardly, determined not to argue with a five year-old mentality and haphazardly picked up a rock.

Eve looked disapprovingly at him. "No, no, that's not it at all. You must find a good, round pebble. There, like that one." She pointed down and before Kirk had time to look at it, she'd picked it up and sent it skimming perfectly across the stream to land on the other side. She repeated her little giggle of joy. "I've never done that before. You must be good luck for me."

This was hardly the most interesting way of occupying his time, so Kirk got up and decided to explore the rest of the "Garden." He wondered how big it was.

A pouting Eve following him, keeping up a steady stream of useless conversation. She pointed out each plant they passed, expressing her love for it and explaining its advantages and disadvantages. After 5 minutes of ceaseless chirping, Kirk turned around, annoyed, and said, "Look here, Eve. Either you're being a typical woman or you don't know the story very well. Adam is supposed to name the plants."

Eve smiled and replied condescendingly, "Yes, dead. I know. But you weren't doing it, and they had to be named, you know. So I took the job on myself."

Kirk grunted.

Eve looked a little hurt at her generosity being so sparsely appreciated, but managed to mumble, "Well, you can name all the rest."

Kirk grimaced and wondered if he could stand to see her cry. It was just so unoriginal. Well, he was not going to be so. He looked her straight in the eye and said, "OK, I will." He then proceeded to do exactly that. To make it a little more interesting, he made up the names as he went along.

Pointing to the clover growing beneath their feet, he said, "This is odiadiamanga." Even stifled a giggle when Kirk glared at her. Pointing to the lilies, he said, "These are aliajas." The oak trees were nunnus, the maples siters, and so forth and so on until Kirk's mind was so mixed up, he collapsed on the grass and started spouting a multitude of nonsensical words.

Eve looked worried, then changed her mind, collapse right next to Kirk and laughed so hard she cried. He couldn't help but join in. After half an hour had passed, the two just about had their laughter under control when Eve cracked the first joke in the world. "I knew a man with a wooden leg named Smith."

Kirk asked dutifully, "What was the name of his other leg?" ANd despite the fact that the joke was probably the first joke ever cracked in the world, and twice as stale, he found himself laughing himself hoarse for another half hour.

Suddenly, he broke off and looked about worriedly.

Eve asked what was wrong.

"All right," he answered. "You've had your turn. Now I want to know just waht you put in the air to make me laugh, where I am, and where my friends are."

Eve gave a fair imitation of being puzzled.

Again, Kirk jerked her off her feet and practically shouted at her, "And who are you, anyway? What's your name--your real name?"

Indecision took hold of Eve and she opened her mouth a couple of times, closing it without speaking, and looking about herself wildly. Brokenly she said, "The air--fine. Friends==? Eden we are. I--Eve. You--Adam. We--I--Al'lahmotundi. Help--" And with that she fell to the ground, eyes glazed over and as limp as noodle.

Chapter Tive

Spock glared curiously at Kirk, wondering where exactly he was leading them, and what exactly he saw that apparently none of the rest of the group could. But before he could put his question into words, Kirk was gone. He'd walked slightly ahead of the rest of them and simply disappeared. McCoy ran up to the empty place where Kirk had been just seconds ago. Flinging his hands throught he air and reacting typically emotionally by swearing. Spock stored the word absent-mindedly in his brain. He had never heard it before and wondered if he ever would again. But knowing McCoy--

Now, however, was not the time to ask McCoy what it meant, so Spocj turned around to make sure Kirk was the only one missing. Fortunately, he was.

Spock rummaged around in his pockets until finding what he was looking for, he took out a small pensize flashlight and turned it on. Flicking it briefly towards the direction in which Kirk had last been seen, he ascertained that Kirk was, as he presumed, nowhere even his Vulcan eyes could perceive. McCoy's mouth was drooping down, staring at Spock as though he were some sort of superman.

Spock replied with raised eyebrows and "You have a youth organization, I believe, Doctor.:

"The BSF. 'Always be prepared.'" McCoy recalled, still staring, open-mouthed, almost unbelievingly.

"Quite," answered Spock curtly. "It is also the unwritten motto of the VYA, Vulcan Youth Association. Now if we are ready, I suggest we divide into groups and have a look around thie building. Did anyone see where John went?" Spock paused. No one spoke up. "OK, then. Allen, Repart, and Dr. McCoy, if you will go that way--" Spock pointed to the left. "And McRow and I will go right." Spock handed McCoy his flashlight and retrieved another from the confines of his uniform.

Jean McRow looked up, only a little surprised to find that Mr. Spock had arranged the groups so that she and he would be together. She was fiercely annoyed, but using te Vulcan Kaidth technique she'd mastered on her short stay there, noone, not even Spock himself, could have read her feelings.

McCoy appeared a little glum, gingerly flashing light on both sides of the wall and walking a step being Allen, who was obviously excited by this turn of events, and eager for a chance to get "a piece of the action."

Spock stared after the trio for a few minutes and turned his gaze momentarily on McRow. She calmly answered his inviting eyes with, "After you, sir."

Being a Vulcan, no one could accuse Spock of shrugging, but McRow had a feeling that if his human side had been a little stronger, that was exactly what he'd have done. Instead, he kept a steady pace through the corridors, alighting every part of either wall. There was nothing there. Not a person, not a speaker, not even a missing speck of paint. On and on they walked, seemingly for hours, always in a straight line, for they had no choice. There were no adjoining halls, no forks in their path, only an unending forward path.

McRow halted, not caring if Spock was a superior officer. This was a useless expense of energy.

Spock raised an eyebrow, but McRow could not have seen it in the dark even if she'd been looking for it. Before McRow could say anything, he read her mind. "A fruitless search, Miss McRow, wouldn't you say?"

Miss McRow returned to her "inferior office" pose. "As you say, sir."

"However, we hardly have a choice. The creator of this hallway obviously intended something similar to this to happen." Spock spoke without depression.

McRow remained silent.

"There must be a way out if there was a way in. If you will move to the side, Lieutenant, please." Spock shone his light to the left. "Perhaps I can make a way out."

McRow did as she was told, seriously doubting whether even brute Vulcan strength could break through these walls. She secretly wished John were there. Even if he couldn't, or wouldn't help them, at least he would make an interesting study. She watched as Spock braced his shoulder against the wall of waht may as well have been their prison, and push. Or did he push? She wondered. Noting moved, and Spock was not showing any signs of exertion. After 3 full minutes, Spock released the wall with a quick gasp and managed to say through his covered-up heavy breathing, "It's no use."

Then both were immediately quiet. Footsteps were coming towards them, from the direction they had just come. McRow knew it was John before she saw his face. He looked much the same as when he'd left. A human bleakness exusing from it.

He stopped a couple of feet before them. Illuminating the area with a small light, much more powerful than Spock's tiny penlight. He stood as a soldier at attention and stiffly ordered the two to follow him. Touching him as she passed, McRow felt him wince. There was hope for him, after all.

John followed them, keeping silent and the light ahead. After another couple hours of marching, John stopped and pointed to a door which Spock moved too wuickly to open and bumped McRow. He whispered a quick caution in her ear, "This is where the captain disappeared. Stay with me," and entered. Inside were McCoy, Allen, Repart, and Kirk, unconscious, suspended above the ground by some sort of device which was hovering above them. But they were not the only ones. As far as the eye could see, the room extended, and each couple feet, another levitator hovered, suspending 4 humans, all very unconscious. And for each 4 levitators, a robot attended, carefully making notations on a pad of paper also suspended. Spock noted that whatever language the robots were using to record, it did not belong to any known species. He wondered if he could get close enough to study it.

McRow stood amazed at the organization of it all. She glanced over at Spock long enough to catch the expression of fascination, not surprise, which extended across his geatures. Typical, she thought for the 100th time. She nudged Spock a little, too. "Well, are we going to get them out of here?" she hissed.

"Any suggestions how, Lt. McRow?" he replied.

To which she said not a word, simply walking over to the levitator, holding Kirk and the others and throwing Spock's penlight at it. She got instant, if not entirely desirable results. The levitator fell with a crash, releasing its hold on the landing party none too gently and letting them fall 2 meters directly onto the cement floor. While in the air, McRow noticed McCoy opening a very upset eye, but closing it again by the time he hit the ground.

None of the robots even blinked an eyelash, so Spock ran over to help. He and McRow quickly had all 4 lying on their backs, being examined for broken bones.

"They'll be a little sore, but no permanent damage." McRow showed no signs of gloating over her word.

"Indeed," answered Spock, who was looking around for his penlight. Finding it, he shone it directly into Kirk's face, slapping it simultaneously. Kirk was conscious in no time.

He jumped up and after a groan looked like he rather wished he hadn't. Seeing Spock on his right, he began explaining what had happened. "I saw a light when we first came to the door and followed it. Then a voice came out of nowehere saying it was my savior, Al'lahmotundi and that I had to kneel before him. Then I saw I was in the Garden of Eden. And everything was just as it was in the old-earth Bible, with a couple exceptions. I kept my clothes on, and when I met Eve, she had her clothes on, too. And then I got mad at her and started asking question after question and she fell down and there was no pulse. And then you were slapping me. You know, I think she really believed that she was Eve and that I was Adam and that we were in the Garden of Eden." Kirk suddenly broke out of his reverie. "But you didn't see any light or hear any voice, so where have you--and I--been?"

Spock kept an eye on the robots, who still showed no signes of discovering 5 of their prisoners were free, and told Kirk what little had happened to htem, and added that he was quite sure Al'lahmotundi--whatever else he was--was behind it all.

"So, Mr. Spock, I have three questions for you. 1, why is he here? 2, where are the Sagitons? and 3, how did he do what he did?"

"The only answer I have for that, Captain, is to find Al'lahmotundi and ask him yourself."

Kirk seemed to notice the robot guards for the first time and giving Spock a quesitoning glance, which he returned with raised eyebrow, Kirk walked over to the nearest one, a woman, and tapped on her shoulder. Spock, in the meantime, was getting the other 3 up.

Kirk's eyes opened wide with amazement when he saw the face of the robot. It was Eve. She, however, gave no sign of recognition, so Kirk was forced to act as though they'd never seen each other before.

"Excuse me," he began politely. "But I was wondering if you could tell me where Al'lahmotundi is?"

Eve smiled as if to a child, and took no notice of Kirk ever having spoken. "Oh, Captain Kirk, you are up. How good to see you. Al'lahmotundi wants to speak with you and your friends. So if you'll just follow me . . ."

Kirk had to suppress a slight grin at her tone of voice, not totally without irritation. He looked back at Spock and shrugged with an "I can handle this, don't you worry" look.

As they followed Eve, McCoy filled in what had happened to his group. Unlike Spock and McRow, their hall had not been unending. In fact, it was distressingly the oppsoite. They had come shortly to a flat dead end and turning around to retrace their steps, had found themselves facing another deadend. In this predicament, they frantically searched for a concealed opening. Repart found one--of a sort. It had led them out into the middle of nowhere. A wind could be felt, so they knew they were outside, but as pitchblack as it was, no one could tell where. McCoy rather mistrusted his sight, but reluctantly followed Allen. Allen claimed just to have been coming to some light when he felt a slug on the side of his head. The next thing he remembered was looking into Spock's face. McCoy argued that there had been no light and it was his shoulder that had been hit, with Repart siding with Allen in the presence of light and head being clouted.

By the time the tale was told, Eve had led them all to a huge door and knocking on it, Kirk once again heard the voice from the garden answer omnipotently, "Enter."

Eve disappeared, as John had before her, and the party was left to open tthe door on their own. Spock's height was required to reach the handle, so he was the first to enter the room. And what a room! Nothing in his experiences had prepared him for this. It was not just the size of the room, which was astronomical, it was more the decor. An exact miniature replica of every known planet, and quite a number of unknwon ones, in the galazy, hung from the ceiling, the size of each star, and even the tiniest satellite was exact, as far as Spock could tell. On the ground was a multitude of computers, the most complicated, and some a little more complicated, ever assembled. And in the center of it all was . . . John.

"Al'lahmotundi, at your service, Captain Kirk, Mr. Spock, Dr. McCoy, Lt. McRow, Allen, Repart, ah, you're all here finally. I've been waiting ever so long for you." And with the annoyingly patronizing smile Eve had used, he gestured toward the ceiling, or sky as it would be more properly named. "This is your Earth, Terra," He pointed to a tiny speck of blue and green. "This is your Federation." He indicated a space colored in yellow. "This is the Romulan Empire." Red. "This is the Klingon Empire." Black. "And of course, you know the Organians." White. "This--" he referred to the remaining spaces which were rather larger than the psaces already occupied. "Is Starebula, the home of the Straeberss race. I--" he indicated himself majestically. "Am a Straeberss. We, the Straeberss, that is, are going to help you by allowing you to join our Empire. A simple yes or no will do, Captain."

Kirk just stared and decline to answer for the moment.

"Mr. Spock, our ever-sensible Vulcan?" John-Al'lahmotundi asked.

"If I may as you a few questions?"

He nodded.

"The first is why do you ask us, as we are simply tools in the hands of the Federation and any treaty we make with you regarding Federation territory would be invalid to any others, and second, where are the people of Sagiton?"

John stared at Spock. "You always were a sharp one. I'll give you that, but so complicated. You can't take anything for granted, can you?" As Spock was about to answere, he waved his hand and said, "No, don't reply. That was a rhetorical question, my dear Vulcan. You are a Vulcan, I know, that's probably whey you must know everything isn't it? Well, well, your ancestors were much the same. They declined joining us, too, even at the risk of forever being altered as we moved their planet one degree closer to the sun."

Spock raised an eyebrow skeptically--or fascinated?

John laughed. "You don't know whether to believe me or not, do you? Well, perhaps I've told too much as it is. On to your so aptly put questions, Mr. Spock. I ask you because you are the Federation." At Kirk's head shaking, he hastened to correct himself. "Oh, not the Federation in that sense, of course. I mean you are the heart of the Federation. Anything you do or say is bound to be seen by millions as correct. I'm sure you get tired of people telling you how legendary you are, but even we Straeberss, in our far off corner of the universe have heard of you and your adventures. Your scrupulousness goes unquestioned by most of the citizens of the Federation planets. Where Captain Kirk and Mr. Spock go, so goes the heart, the sympathy of the Federation." Kirk opened his mouth to argue. John cut him off with a curt wave of the hand.

"No, don't argue with me. As for the validity of any treaty, as you so tactfully put it, Mr. Spock, I simply don't care. Bureaucracy and politics don't concern me in the least. If the people of the Federation follow you, as I'm sure they will, they will do so without the help of kings, presidents, rulers and hte like. Question number two requires a bit more detail . . ."

Spock stared speculatively at him. "If I may suggest. Let's start at the very beginning. A very good place to start."

John looked puzzles for a minute, then laughed. "My goodness, you certainly do get around for a Vulcan your age, don't you? Let's start at the beginning indeed." And for the next four hours, John attempted to explain the beginning to an increasingly impatient audience. Only Spock was entranced by his incredibly beautiful mode of storytelling. With a faraway voice, he began, lifted out of the room in which he stood, into the very history he stpoke of.

"A long, long time ago, on a planet far far away, this one here. There lived a people known to themselves as the Straeberss. They had come to the period of time wherein every civilized race shows its vagaries--space travel. When the first space probe had been sent up, the people of the planet began to grow together, and then apart. The two factions which divided Straeberius were the Shatstal'i, meaning star-seekers, and the Washl, the earthkeepers. Their names describe their platforms perfectly. The starseekers wanted to push space travel. They were, in fact, willing to give it everything in their power to acccomplish it. The Washl were content to stay at home. They worried that the Shastal'i would destroy the delicate balance of life on Straeberius with their passion for space. The groups were evenly matched. Physical fighting would have been folly. Then, withint the two structures came two men, Sah'st and Kas'h. They were each determined to rule the planet, but both knew that destroying the other would mean war. A council between the two was held, and they came to a compromise. The planet would be divided in half, each group maintaining his half, neither invading the other. And to seal the bargain, Kas'h Wash leader, demanded Asmahn, literally blood trade. ASmahn was an old tradition of the Straeberss, dating back to early tribes and nations of their culture, who had exchanged their sons as tokens of goodwill. Reluctantly Sah'st complied, sending his son Motundi in exchange for Kas'h's son, Al'lah. All went well, or so it seemed to the Shastl'i, who were quickly becoming technologically advanced. They ignored Straeberius's other half and continued on their own. Famine struck the Washl, as their rich minerals ran out. Wash died by the thousands. And Kas'h was convinced it was the word of the Shatl'i. Desperately he weighed the odds, but more and more of his people were dying daily, so he went to war. He murdered Motundi as he slept, fully expecting Sah'st to do the same. War broke out briefly, but the Washl were in no condition to fight and after their leader courageously died on the battlefield, they surrendered. It was then that Sah'st had to decide what to do with Al'lah. Honour and his own fierce pride required death,b ut he had come to love the boy as a son, even giving him the name of his lost son. He chose the best of bad choices and used the boy in an experiment Shastl'i scientists were working on. Deep freeze. Not knowing whether or not the boy would ever come out of the freeze, Sah'st dugt a very large grave for the boy. Inside he put the most advanced computers available, with programming to awake the boy in a thousand years. He also programmed them with the information of what currently happened on Straeberius. The Straeberss went on to become a race very similar to your Organians. Only they made one error. They forgot about the boy deeply frozen inside their planet. And a thousand years later when he awoke, they were so much farhter advanced that he was regarded as an inferior. When he made the last error, that of killing a being for meat, he was exiled. The Straeberss proved especially effective when they chose where he would be exiled. They placed him here, among people of his own level. But the Straeberss didn't count on something. Al'lahmotundi was a fast learner and was not content with his place in life. Intent upon revenge, he did the only thing he could do. He made use of the inhabitants of Sagiton. And that's where they are now. I've made use of them."

"You have not answered the question yet," Spock insisted.

"How very astute of you, Mr. Spock. No, I haven't. Nor do I intend to, until you give me my answer. Will you let us help you or not?"

McCoy decided it was about time he had his say. He was not as quiet as Spock would have been, but the message was the same. "Listen, you son of a --- excuse me, LouAnn, Jean-- Klingon Khattar, either you tell us where you've put the inhabitants of Sagiton or we'll make you wish you did."

John let out a hearty laugh. "Oh, my good Dr. McCoy, you sound so fierce. And if I don't, are you going to turn your phasers on me? I'm so afraid."

McCoy reached down to his phaser--or where it should have been. All hands but Spock's did the same. The phasers were gone.

"Oh, yes, I've taken precautions. Believe me, nothing is going to happen to me, don't you worry about it. When you tell me the answer, your weapons will be returned." Their aptor let out one mjore hideous, humorless laugh, but it was enough.

Allen rushed towards him, flinging away the restraining arm of Repart. His eyes flashed insanely, his hands reached out to strangle the neck of John. He never reached it. With a flash of light two centimeters beofre he would have reached the thin but handsome Straeberian neck, he disappeared, Ever after he was gone, through the heartbroken screaming of Repart, a smoky form remained, a sort of gruesome statue, Allen's arm reaching out in desperation and gradually fading away as sht esmoke distributed itself throughout the room.

When Repart got a hold of herself again, she found herself pounding the chest of Spock, whispering NO over and over again. Eventually she stopped her angry pounding and clung to Spock, sobbing.

McCoy wathced in amazement as Spock not only allowed Repart to touch him, an unpleasant experience for any Vulcan, but actually put his arms around her showing genuine concern in his eyes. In a moment, she wondered if her eyes had deceived her. Spock put his mask back on and set Repart on her own two feet. She stopped her crying and simply stared at the now-empty space.

They all became aware of ohn again. What was there to be said now? Silence reigned for a minute. At the end of that time, Kirk was ready to give his answer. Determindely, he said, "No."

John released a horrible screech. A sound as none had ever heard. At last, he stared at them in white fury and whispered, "What?"

Repart matched his fury with her own and answered, "You heard us, you bastard."

Without a second of hesitation, John turned on her and stared. As he stared, his eyes changed their color. First green, blue, and when hit florescent orange, Repart's did the same. She rose above the floor and simply hung there, suspended.

"Your friend will stay where she is until you change your answer. You have three hours. She is next!' He pointed to McRow and disappeared, his words still ringing hollowly through the air.

But they were no longer in the huge astroroom of John. Nor could they see Repart. At least they weren't still in the black nothingness of--wherever it was they had been, thought Kirk. He looked around him, trying to get his bearings and assess the situation. They were far away from any form of civilization, that much he could tell. They might have been back at the shuttle if it weren't for that. Trying ot go anywhere would probably prove suicidal, but they couldn't just sit here and do nothing. "Odds of getting back to the city, Mr. Spock?"

"Sixty eight thousand four hunderd twenty three to one, Captain."

"And the odds of saving Repart if we stare here?"

"Noncomputable."

"So we go, Mr. Spock."

"We go."

"Any suggestions as to which direction we head into?"

McCoy replied for Spock sarcastically. "Eenie, meenie, minie, moe. Catch a tiger by the toe. If he roars, you let him go. Eenie, meenie, minie, moe." McCoy pointed to the right. "There."

Spock raised an eyebrow. "I fail to see what a child's nursery rhyme has to do with our present situation."

"Well, could that green-blooded computer behind your eyes have come up with any better solution?"

"If I were to choose between a logical solution and a nursery rhme, I would be most certain to choose the logial solution."

"But that wouldn't make it any better, now would it?"

Kirk motioned McRow over to him and whispered conpiratorially in her ear. "This is the way they let off steam. Everyone knows they really like each other. Only don't tell them that."

McRow raised a Spockian eyebrow and questioned Kirk's tenet. "Vulcans do not build up steam, Captain."

"No?" Kirk looked at her speculatively and was cut off by the sound of an approaching shuttlecraft.

"The Exodus."

We've been rescued, thought McCoy, good old Scotty. I wonder who . . .

McCoy's silent question was answered as Uhura, Ashely, and Mai stepped out. Uhura caught a quick breath and gasped, "Captain, but how? We thought--where is--are you?"

Ashely broke in with a hearty grin. "Hold it Nyota. Let James explain before you jump on him. Well, Captain--EXPLAIN!"

"What in the hell did Scotty think he was doing, sending you down here, Admiral Ashley?"

Ashely swept back a white wave of hair, only to have it fall again, before answering. "Well, I was avaialble and expendable, wasn't I? Besides, did you think I'd have let you go off on an adventure without me? I'm not retired yet, Jamesy boy. And besides I outrank him."

"Admiral Ashley, you get back on that shuttle and return to the ship right now or else!"

"Can't. Just after we left Lieutenant Richards decided it was the time to rouse a mutiny. He's taken over communications, the transporter, and the shuttleport and who knows what else. We're all stuck here together until Scotty get his half under control again. So suppose in the meantime you tell us how you got here and where Repart and Allen are."

He did.

"Oh, so you've got a taste of Al'lahmotundi, too. While you were down here without us, he let the whole ship in on what a good time you were having. How in the world did he manage to show us the picture of you in paradise? It would have taken more than a pretty piece of photogrpahing to display the expression on faces he produced."

"Obviously we are dealing with a being more advanced than we are, the total capabilities of which we are probably not yet aware," put in Spock.

McCoy muttered something under his breatha bout damn Vulcan understatements, but no one paid any attention to him, in any case.

"So what do we do now, Captain?" asked Uhura.

"we go back to Kytel and find Repart. What were your landing coordinates, Admiral Ashley?"

"Our coordinates were the same as yours. The city should be right there." He pointed exactly where McCoy had with his rhyme.

"If your brain patterns correspond with mine, Captain," led Spock.

"Exactly. Let's go." For the second time in 24 hours, they began the trek to Kytel. Only this time there was no John-- or Kytel itself even--to guide them. Spock, however, was quite as accurate. In shorter time than earlier, or so Spock said, for no one else had chronometers built in their brains, they arrived at where the city hall used to be.

What in the world are we supposed to do now? questioned McCoy. Pound on the air and say, :let us in, let us in, or we'll blow your house down?"

But Spock was unable to reply to McCoy's unintentionally spoken question, because John mysteriously appeared to do it for him.

"I'm not sure Al'lahmotundi would be at all pleased to know you are comparing him to a pig, doctor, and you yourselves have very few similarities to wolves. But you'll have questions, won't you? You needn't ask them aloud. I think I can imagine them. You see, I am Al'lahmotundi and he is me. When he created me, he used the only pattern he had--himself. So we look, sound, and think exactly alike. In fact, you might ask what the difference is. Al'lahmotundi does have sentimental value for the original body and a brain, of course, can never be cloned, however carefully reproduced. He sent me with a congratulations. It was clever of you to figure out that your eyes were deceiving you. Because of that, Al'lahmotundi has decided to lend you my services in the search for your missing member. We are both looking forward to a game with such an interesting group as you humans are proving to be. Captain, you are in charge.

Chapter Six

" . . . In charge. We are in charge," repeated Kier Richards calmly. "Surrender the bridge, Mr. Scott, or we'll destroy it and you. You have 10 minutes. Try to escape, if you can."

In the background, Scotty heard the mutineers pick up Richards' last words and shout them. "If you can, if you can, if you can." Scotty turned off the intership communicator and thought. On the bridge were five, including himself. At any other time, the mutineers wouldn't have needed the bridge for anything but a psychological advantage. As it was, something had warned Scotty to turn over ship steering power to manual bridge control. It was the only thing the mutineers did not have control of. If they could they would avoid destroying the bridge, for it would take 2 days to restore power. But if no other opportuniy presented itself, they would blow it up. In 10 minutes, though . . .scotty was a little skeptical. If he could stall, then what? 5 against 200, the remainining 200 odd locked on inaccessible parts of the ship. And the captain, admiral, and landing party all on the planet with Al'lahmotundi. Scotty reviewed his mental blueprint og the ship, closing in on the bridge, and then the rec room. There was a possibility. From inside the lift, one could travel half a story up, get out inside the life support tubes, crawl to the technicians' outer lock, pull on the usually left out space life support clothes, freefall down to floor 7, climb back into the ship at the shower waste chute, slip into the engine room, across the hall, and isolate the rec room. Scotty wondered what odds Mr. Spock would quote for him, not tha tit mattered. There was no choice. It must however be timed. The most dangerous part was reentering the ship. The ship was still in orbit around the planet, so whoever attempted it oculd easily free fall into nowhere. And then, there would be no guarantee that the waste chute would not be in use, in which case the attempter could try to climb anyway, but it would have to be done very quickly. The oxygen pack in the space life support suit could become blocked without knowledge of the wearer until it was too late. So who must attempt it? Chekov? In an emergency his age would be an advantage because he would live longer without oxygen, but his inexperience was a disadvantage. If he got caught, he might panic and all be lost. Sulu? Medium age, medium experience. His body was in great ship and fantastically limber and he was use to space life support systems. Walter of communications? He knew the ship as well as Mr. Scott did. If for some reason anything went wrong, he could easily reroute himself. Jeeves of science? She was the smallest and would find it easiest to crawl among the lifesupport tubes and the shower waste chutes. Or himself? He was the most experienced, knew the ship better than anyone and was not easily given to panic. But he was the highest ranking, which in this case was a disadvantage. If he got caught, what would the others do? And Star Fleet did not take kindly to senior officers endangering themselves needleslsly. Not that it didn't make any difference. He thought wryly of Admiral Ashley, not to mention Kirk, Spock, and McCoy. Scott ran the advantages and disadvantages of each person once more, and finding nothing new, settled on Jeeves. The best of bad choices. Not too flattering--- to any of them. Scott glanced at his watch. He'd spent 1 minute 17 seconds already. He summoned Jeeves toward him, speaking directly into her ear. Whether or not the mutineers could or could not monitor conversations on the bridge was not available data, but precaution could save them all. Quickly but carefully he explained what she was to do. Pausing only barely long enough for her to signficy understanding, then continuing. Each deatil was vital, timing must be precise. He stressed that to her, knowing full well that she knew it as well as he did. And then he sent her off. Under his breath he whispered, "And the luck o'the Irish with ye, me girl." The Scotch were not renowned for their luck, he mused rebelliously. All eyes followed Jeeves to the lift, knowing and not knowing exactly what she was going to attempt. The lift door closed on her soft, expressionless face. And she was gone. But only from the bridge.

As she commanded the lift to carry her upwards, Jeeves remembered her old Academy teacher, Mrs. Stophy drilling into her mind the simplest technique of tranquility. Count back from 100. Even primitive Terran doctors of the twentieth century used this emthos on patients. Take deep breaths, after each number. 99 inhale. 98, exhale. 97 . . . Thank the Organians she'd attended that class. She needed every particle of her intelligence on this mission. Full well she knew what was depending on her success. The bridge crew, the Enterprise, possibly even the Captain. The lift stopped. 96, she exhaled. This is it, she thought, and let her mind do automatically what had to be done. On her hands and knees, she crawled into the life support tubes. They were too narrow to continue in that position. On her stomach, she slid along, an inch a second perhaps. She refused to let her mind drift to how long