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Captain's log, stardate 2821.5.

On route to Makus 3
with a cargo of medical supplies,

our course leads us past Murasaki 312,

a quasar-like formation, vague, undefined.

A priceless opportunity
for scientific investigation.

On board is
Galactic High Commissioner Ferris,

overseeing the delivery
of the medicines to Makus 3.

 

Captain to shuttlecraft Galileo.

Stand by, Mr. Spock.

 

I remind you, Captain,

I'm entirely opposed to this delay.

Your mission is to get those emergency
medical supplies to Makus 3

in time for their transfer
to the New Paris colonies.

 

No problem, Commissioner.

And may I remind you

that I have standing orders to investigate
all quasars and quasar-like phenomena

wherever they may be encountered?

 

Besides...

 

it's three days to Makus.

 

And the rendezvous
doesn't take place for five.

 

I don't like to take chances.

 

The plague is out of control on New Paris.

We must get those drugs there on time.

No problem.

 

Captain to Galileo.

All systems cleared for take off.

 

Power up.

All instruments activated.

All readings normal. All go.

Launch shuttlecraft.

 

Readings... normal.

 

Acceleration, normal.

Phase one separation, normal.

Position?

3.7.

 

- Sir, I...
- Make up your mind, please. Mr. Latimer.

This indicator's gone crazy.

That's to be expected, Mr. Spock.

Quasars are extremely disruptive.

Just how much, we don't know.

Considerably, Mr. Boma.

Mr. Spock, radiation is increasing.

 

Stop forward momentum, Mr. Latimer.

 

I can't, sir. Nothing happens.

Galileo to Enterprise.

Galileo to Enterprise.
Come in, please.

 

Ionic interference, Mr. Spock.

We're being drawn right into it.

Galileo to Enterprise.

Galileo to Enterprise!

We are out of control,

being pulled directly into
the heart of Murasaki 312.

Being hit by violent radiation on outer hull.

Course, 3.2 by...

 

Anything at all?

Nothing clear, Captain.

Just a few words about
being pulled off course.

- Try and get a fix on the Galileo.
- Scanners are blank, Captain.

We're getting a mass of readings
I've never seen before.

Nothing makes sense.

 

Negative ionic concentration,
1.64 x 10 to the 9th power meters,

Radiation wave length, 370 angstroms,

harmonics... upward along entire spectrum.

What is it, Captain?

That thing out there
has ionized this complete sector.

None of our instruments work.

At least four complete solar systems
in the immediate vicinity.

And out there somewhere, a 24-foot shuttlecraft, off course, out of control.

 

Finding a needle in a haystack
would be child's play.

 

Space... the final frontier.

 

These are the voyages of the starship Enterprise.

Its five-year mission

to explore strange new worlds...

to seek out new life and new civilizations...

to boldly go where no man has gone before.

 

Captain's log, stardate 2821.7.

The electromagnetic phenomenon
known as Murasaki 312

whirls like some angry blank in space.

A depressive reminder, the seven of our
shipmates still have not been heard from.

Equally bad, the effect has rendered
our normal searching systems useless.

Without them, we are blind...

and almost helpless.

 

I was opposed to this
from the very beginning!

Our flight to Makus 3 is
of the very highest priority.

I'm aware of that, Commisioner.

At the same time, I have certain scientific duties I must perform.

Investigating the Murasaki effect
is one of them.

Yes, but you've lost your crew.

 

We have two days to find them.

Two days? ln all that?

Two days?

What would you have me do,
turn around and leave them there?

You shouldn't have sent them out
in the first place.

Captain, there's one planet in the solar
system capable of sustaining human life.

Type M, oxygen-nitrogen,
and it's listed as Taurus 2.

It's unexplored.

As far as we can determine
with our equipment malfunction,

it's just about dead-center
of the Murasaki effect.

 

Thank you, Lieutenant.

- Mr. Sulu.
- Yes, sir.

- Set course for Taurus 2.
- Aye, aye, sir.

 

You all right?

Yeah.

Scotty?

Boma?

Yeah. That's what...
I call a ride.

Yeoman?

Yeah. Just a little bump on the head.

 

Thank you.

 

- What happened?
- I can't be sure,

but... I'd say that

the magnetic potential of the effect was...

Thank you.

was such that...

as we gathered speed,

it was multiplied geometrically.

And we were simply shot
into the center of the effect,

More like a projectile.

 

I'd say your evaluation is reasonable,
Mr. Boma.

What a mess.

Picturesque descriptions will not mend
broken circuits, Mr. Scott.

I think you'll find your work is
cut out for you.

Galileo to Enterprise. Galileo to Enterprise.
Come in, please.

You don't really think
to get an answer, do you?

I expect nothing, Mr. Scott.

It is merely logical to try
all the alternatives.

Dr. McCoy, a reading
on the atmosphere, please.

 

Partial pressure of oxygen,
70mms of mercury,

nitrogen 140.

Breathable, if you're not
running in competition.

Just the facts, Doctor.

Traces of argon, neon, krypton.

All in acceptable quantities.

However, I wouldn't recommend this place
as a summer resort.

Thank your for your opinion and will be
duly noted. You're recording this, Yeoman?

- Of course, Mr. Spock.
- Alright.

Mr. Scott,
if you'll make a survey of damage, please.

Logical.

Gentleman. I think we should move outside,
make room for Mr. Scott to do his work.

Mr. Latimer, Mr. Gaetano,
you'll arm yourselves.

Scout out the area,
keeping in visual contact with the ship.

Aye, aye, sir.

 

What do you think our chances are
of contacting the Enterprise?

Under present conditions, extremely poor.

But they'll be looking for us.

If the ionization effect is
as widespread as I believe it is, Doctor

they'll be searching for us
without instrumentation,

by visual contact only.

On those terms,

this is a very large planet.

And you don't think they'll find us.

As long as we're grounded.

We may be here
for a very long time, Doctor.

 

Nothing, Captain.

 

Mr. Sulu.

Yes, Captain?

Anything on your scanners?

Totally inoperative, sir.
No readings at all.

Have you tried tying in
to the auxiliary power?

Yes, sir. No change.

 

Transport room...

this is the Captain speaking.

Are the transporters beaming up yet?

Not 100%, Captain.

We beamed down some inert material,

but it came back in a disassociated condition.

We wouldn't dare try with people.

Thank you.

 

This is the Captain speaking.

Flight deck, prepare Columbus
for immediate exit

 

for a search of the planet surface.

Correlate coordinates with Mr. Sulu.

Thank you.

 

Anything, Uhura?

All wave lengths dominated by
ionization effects, sir.

Transmission is blocked,
reception impossible.

Well, Captain?

 

We have until 2823.8
to continue the search, Commissioner.

You don't really think
you'll have any luck, do you?

 

Look, these people are
my friends and my shipmates.

I intend to continue the ship's search for them

until the last possible moment.

Very well, Captain.

But not one second beyond that moment.

Is that clear?

If it isn't, I suggest you Iook at
book 19, section 433, paragraph 12.

I'm familiar with the regulations, Commissioner.

I know all about your authority.

Launch shuttlecraft Columbus.

 

Oh, I can't say much for the circumstances,

but at least it's your big chance.

My big chance? For what, Doctor?

Command.

Oh, I know you, Mr. Spock.

You've never voiced it,
but you've always thought that

logic was the best basis
on which to build command, am I right?

I am a logical man, Doctor.

It'll take more than logic
to get us out of this.

Perhaps, Doctor.
But I know of no better way to begin.

I realize that command
does have its fascinations,

even under circumstances such as these.

But I neither enjoy the idea of command,

nor am I frightened of it.

It simply exists.

And I will do whatever
logically needs to be done.

Excuse me.

 

Very bad, Mr. Spock.

In what way?

We've lost a great deal of fuel.

We have no chance at all
to reach escape velocity.

And if we ever hope to make orbit,

we'll have to lighten our load
by at least 500 pounds.

 

The weight of three grown men.

Aye, you could put it that way.

Or the equivalent weight in equipment.

Dr. McCoy, with very few exceptions,

we use virtually every piece of equipment
aboard this craft in attaining orbit.

There's very little excess weight,
except among the passengers.

It mean three of us must stay behind.

Unless the situation changes radically, yes.

And who's to choose?

As commanding officer,

the choice will be mine.

You wouldn't be interested in drawing lots?

A very quaint idea, Mr. Boma,

but I do believe I'm better qualified to make
the selection than any random drawing or lots.

All right, Mr. Spock.

Who?

 

My choice will be a logical one,
arrived at through logical means.

Mr. Spock, life and death
are seldom logical.

But attaining a desired goal
always is, Doctor.

Gentlemen, I suggest we move outside
to make a further examinination of the hull

in the event we've overlooked
any minor damage.

 

If any minor damage was overlooked,
it was only when they put his head together.

Not his head, Mr. Boma,

his heart.

 

His heart.

 

What is it?

 

I... I don't know.

It's from up there.

 

No, no, it's from back there.

 

It's everywhere.
It's all around us!

Let's get out of here.

 

Aah!

 

Come on, Boma.

 

What was it?

 

It was something huge, terrible.

U... up there. I think I hit it.

 

Did you see what it was?

 

Vaguely. It was like a giant ape.

Poor Latimer.

At least it was quick for him.

 

We'll get off all right.

 

Nothing there.

I tell you there was.

I don't doubt your word.

There must be something.
I swear I hit it!

 

Folsom Point.

Sir?

This. Remarkable resemblance
to the Folsom Point

discovered in 1925, old world calendar,
near Mexico, North America.

A bit more crude about the shaft, I believe.
Not very efficient.

Not very efficient?

Is that all you have to say?

Am I in error, Mr. Boma?

You, err?

Impossible.

Then what, Mr. Boma?

There's a man lying there dead,

and you talk about stone spears.

What about Latimer?

 

My concern for the dead
will not bring him back to life.

Mr. Spock.

In the interest of efficiency,
I don't think we should leave his body here.

 

Bringing him back to the ship
should not interfere with our repair efforts.

If you need assistance, I...

We'll do it.

 

Give me a hand with Latimer, will you?

 

Captain's log, stardate 2822.3.

 

We continue to search...

 

but I find it more difficult each moment
to ward off a sense of utterfutility...

and great loss.

Captain, the Columbus has returned
from searching quadrant 779X by 534M.

Results. Negative.

Have them proceed to the next quadrant.
Any word from engineering on our sensors?

They're working on them, sir.
Still inoperable.

What about the transporters?

They're still reported unsafe.

Thank you, Lieutenant.

Captain.

Yes, Commissioner?

I don't relish the thought of abandoning your
crewmen out there, however I must remind...

I haven't forgotten, Commissioner.

You're running out of time.

I haven't forgotten that, Commissioner.

This is the Captain.
Try using overload power on the transporters.

- We've got to get them working.
- Aye, aye, Captain.

 

Uhura.

Order the Columbus to open its course
2 degrees on every lap from now on.

 

Captain, 2 degrees means they'll be
overlooking more than a dozen terrestrial miles on each search loop.

It also means we have a fighting chance
to cover the majority of the planet's surface.

Mind your helm, Mr. Sulu.

Yes, sir.

 

24 more hours, Captain.

 

Perhaps if you channeled the second auxiliary
tank through the primary intake valve.

It's too delicate.

It may not be able to
take the pressure as it is.

 

This should save us
at least 50 pounds, Mr. Spock.

Excellent, Doctor.

We should be able to
scrape up another 100 pounds.

Which would still leave us
at least 150 pounds overweight.

I can't believe you're serious
about leaving someone behind.

Whatever is out there...

It is more rational
to sacrifice one life than six, Doctor.

I'm not talking about rationality.

You might be wise to start.

 

Mr. Spock. we're ready.

For what?

The services for Latimer.

 

Mr. Boma, we're working against time.

The man's dead.
He deserves a decent burial.

You're the captain. A few words.

Doctor, perhaps you know
the correct words for such an occasion.

Mr. Spock, that's your place.

My place is here.

If you please, Doctor.

Now look, we may all die here.

At least let us die like men, not machines.

By dealing with first things first, I hope to
increase our chances of staying alive.

 

Well, Mr. Scott.

If you'll give me a hand with this conduit.

 

The pressure's dropping.

- We're losing everything.
- What happened?

One of the lines gave.

The strain of coming through the atmosphere
and the added load when we tried to bypass.

 

Yeah, that's done it.

We have no fuel.

That... would seem to solve the problem
of who to leave behind.

 

Consider the alternatives, Mr. Scott.

We have no fuel!
What alternatives?

Mr. Scott, there are always alternatives.

Mr. Spock!

 

Something's happening outside.

 

What do those supersensitive ears
of yours make of that, Spock?

Wood. Rubbing on some kind of leather.

They're getting ready. They'll attack.

Not necessarily.

It could be a simple tribal rite,

assuming a tribal culture.

Not a tribal culture.

Their artifacts are too primitive.
More likely a loose association of some sort.

If we knew more about them...

We know enough!

If they're tribal,
they'll have a sense of unity.

We can use that.

How, Mr. Boma?

By hitting damn hard.
Give them a bloody nose.

Make them think twice about attacking us.

Yes, I agree.

If we stand by and do nothing, we're just
giving them an invitation to come down and slaughter us.

 

I'm frequently appalled by
the low regard you Earthmen have for life.

We're practical about it.

I say we hit them before they hit us.

 

Mr. Boma?

Absolutely.

Dr. McCoy?

Seems logical to me.

It does, indeed.

It seems logical to me, also.

But to take life indiscriminately...

The majority.

I am not interested in the opinion
of the majority, Mr. Gaetano.

Components must be weighed...

our dangers to ourselves
as long as our duties to other life forms,

friendly or not.

 

There's a third course.

That could get us killed.

I think not!

- Dr. McCoy.
- Yes.

You and Yeoman Mears return to the ship.

Assist Mr. Scott in any way possible.
We'll be back shortly.

- Right.
- Gentlemen,

you'll follow my orders to the letter,

firing only when so instructed,
and at my designated targets.

Now you're talking.

You'll fire to frighten,
Mr. Gaetano, not to kill.

 

Oh, for...

You saw what they did to Latimer!

I am in command, Mr. Gaetano.

The orders and the responsibility will be mine.

Follow me.

 

The mists, l...

 

I can't see them.

I hear them.

They're directly ahead of us.

Several, I believe.

Direct your phasers to
2 o'clock and 10 o'clock.

- I say we hit them dead on.
- Yes, I know.

But fortunately, I'm giving the orders.

Take aim, please,
and fire when I give a signal.

 

Fire.

 

Cease fire.

 

They should think twice
before bothering us again.

I still say we should have killed them.

It was not necessary.

Fear will do what needs to be done.

Mr. Boma, return with me to the Galileo.

Mr. Gaetano, you remain on guard here
keeping contact with the ship.

 

Did you find them?

Yes, we found them.
They won't bother us again.

 

I hope not.
Scotty has an idea.

 

It's dangerous, but it might work.

 

Go, Mr. Scott.

 

I can adjust the main reactor

to function with a substitute fuel supply.

That's all very well,
but we don't have a substitute supply.

Aye, we do. Our phasers.

I can adapt them and use their energy.

It'll take time, but it's possible.

Trouble is, they happen to be our only defense.

They would also seem to be our only hope.

Aye.

 

Yeoman, your phaser.

But what if the creatures attack again?

They won't attack for at least several hours.
By then, with luck, we'll be gone.

If I can get a full load, we should be able to
achieve orbit with all hands.

Not that we can maintain it long.

We don't have to maintain it
very long, Mr. Scott.

In less than 24 hours, the Enterprise will be
forced to abandon its search in order to make a rendezvous.

If we can't maintain orbit after that time,
it won't make any difference.

If we burn up in a decaying orbit
or die here on the planet's surface,

we shall surely die.

Doctor, your phaser.

 

Go to work, Mr. Scott.

Aye, aye, sir.

 

They came back all right, sir.

In my opinion, the transporters are
now safe for human transport.

Good. This is the captain.

Landing parties 1, 2, and 3, report to
transporter room for immediate beaming-down

to the surface of the planet,
ordinance condition 1-A.

Captain, it's a big planet.

It'll be sheer luck for landing parties
to find anything.

I'm depending on luck, Lieutenant.

It's almost only tool we have to work.

 

Aahh...

Aah!

 

Take this back to Mr. Scott
for conversion, please, Doctor.

 

Nobody knows what's happened to Gaetano,

and you hand over his phaser
like nothing's happened at all.

 

And give this to Mr. Scott
in the event I don't return.

Just where are you going?

I have a certain... scientific curiosity
about what's become of Mr. Gaetano.

Return to the ship, please.

 

I don't know.

He'll risk his neck locating Gaetano.

Then if he finds him, he's just
as liable to order him to stay behind.

 

You tell me.

 

Do you really think
the ship will ever leave?

Well, it won't
unless we get these phasers back.

 

Well, Mr. Spock, they didn't
stay frightened very long, did they?

Most illogical reaction.

We demonstrated our superior weapons.
They should have fled.

You mean they should have respected us?

Of course.

Mr. Spock, respect is a rational process.

Did it ever occur to you
they might react emotionally, with anger?

Doctor, I am not responsible
for their unpredictability.

They were perfectly predictable...

to anyone with feeling.

You might as well admit it, Mr. Spock,

your precious logic brought them
down on us.

Why haven't they done anything?

They're studying us, for the moment.

Another prediction, Mr. Spock?

My opinion, Mr. Boma.

 

Seal the windows!

Studying us, Mr. Spock?

They seem to learn rather quickly.

 

All right, Spock.
You have all the answers. What now?

Your tone is increasingly hostile.

My tone isn't the only thing
that's hostile, Mr. Spock!

Curious. Most illogical.

I'm sick and tired of your logic!

We could use a little inspiration.

Strange.

Step by step, I've made
the correct and logical decisions.

And yet, two men have died.

 

And you've brought our furry friends
down on us.

I do seem to have miscalculated regarding them

and inculcated resentment on your parts.

The sum of the parts
cannot be greater than the whole.

A little less analysis and more action...

That's what we need, Mr. Spock.

 

How much longer, Mr. Scott?

Another hour, maybe two.

It won't be long enough.

Doctor, a phaser can only drain so fast!

 

How long do you think
those plates will hold out?

We've got to do something!

Well, you've got your hands full.

 

Captain's log, stardate 2823.1.

Our landing parties are
on the surface of Taurus 2.

We continue to hope.

Instruments are only slowly
returning to an operable condition

as the ion storm slowly disperses.

On the ship,
we can only wait helplessly.

 

What word from the sensor section?

At last report,
we are getting some reading...

I'm not interested in the last report.
I want to know now!

- Yes, sir.
- You have 2 hours and 43 minutes, Captain.

I'm perfectly aware of
how much time I have left.

I'm delighted.
However I should continue to remind you.

You do that.

Sir, sensor section reporting.

Static interference still creating false images.
Estimates... 80% undependable.

What about radio communication?

Clearing slowly.

Still incapable of transmission or reception.

What do you intend to do?

Do? I intend to continue the search,
foot by foot, inch by inch,

by candlelight, if necessary,
until the last possible moment.

 

If you'd keep your nose off my bridge,
I'd be thankful.

I'm sure the authorities will be
pleased by your diligence, Captain.

I'm not so sure they'll appreciate
the way you address a high commissioner.

I'm in command here, Mr. Ferris.

You are, Captain.

For another 2 hours and 42 minutes.

 

Mr. Scott, how much power
do we have left in the ship's batteries?

They're in good shape,
but they won't let us into orbit...

Will they electrify the exterior of this ship?

That they will, Mr. Spock!

Get to the center of the ship. Don't touch
the plates. Be sure you're insulated.

 

Stand by.

Are you ready, Scott?

Ready, Mr. Spock.

All right. Go!

 

Again!

 

Again!

 

I daren't use any more
and be sure of ignition.

I believe we've used enough, Mr. Scott.
I just continue to drain the phasers.

Aye, aye.

It must've worked.

- For the moment.
- For the moment?

The moment they discover they're not
seriously hurt, they'll be back.

Meanwhile, please check the aft compartments.

See if there's anything else
you can unload to lighten the ship.

Mr. Gaetano's body is back there.

It'll, of course, have to be left behind.

Not without a burial.

I wouldn't recommend it.
The creatures won't be far away.

Not without a burial, Mr. Spock.

It would expose the members of this crew
to unnecessary peril.

I'll take that chance.

You see, Mr. Spock,

I would insist on decent burial
even your body was back there.

Mr. Boma.

I'm sick and tired of this machine!

That's enough!

Gentlemen.

 

All right, Mr. Boma,
you'll have your burial,

provided the creatures will permit it.

 

Captain Kirk, landing party number 2
has been beamed back aboard ship.

They have casualties
one dead, two injured.

Put Lieutenant Kelowitz on visual.

Kelowitz, Captain.

Report.

We were attacked, Captain.

Huge, furr creatures.

I checked with astral anthropology,

and they're order 480-G, anthropoid,

similar to life forms
discovered on Hansen's Planet, but...

much larger.

10... 12 feet in height.

Your casualties?

Ensign O'Neal got a spear through the body
before we even knew they were around.

Lieutenant lmmamura has a dislocated shoulder
and severe lacerations, but he'll make it alright.

Captain, the creatures are all over the place.

If the Galileo is down on that planet, I...

Thank you, Lieutenant.

You better report to sick bay yourself.

Aye, aye, Captain.

 

Captain Kirk...

 

check your chronometer.

You'll see that it is 2823.8.

- Your time is up.
- But they're still out there.

So are the plague victims on New Paris.

I'm sorry, Captain. I now assume the authority
granted me under title 15, galactic emergency procedures,

and I order you to abandon search.

The Columbus hasn't returned yet.

I still have two search parties out.

You're procrastinating, Captain.
You have your orders.

Recall your search parties
and proceed to Makus 3 immediately.

 

Lieutenant...

 

order the transporter room

to immediately beam up
the two search parties from the surface.

Attempt to contact the Columbus.

I'm in partial contact with them
now, sir.

Then have them return immediately.

Mr. Sulu.

 

Prepare to abandon search.

Set course for Makus 3.

 

Captain's log, supplement.

The search parties have returned to the ship,

and the Columbus is on its way back.

I have been compelled
to abandon the search.

Captain,

the sensor section says
the beams are working again.

What about the other systems?

No, sir. Too much interference.

Captain, course set for Makus 3.

 

Stand ready, Mr. Sulu.

 

How long before the Columbus comes on board?

23 minutes, sir.

 

23 minutes.

 

Enterprise, this is Galileo.

Come in, please.
Enterprise!

 

Nothing, sir.
Just ionic interference.

That's it.

How about weight?

If we shed every ounce,

we might able to achieve orbit.

How long can we hold it?

A few hours, no longer.

But if we time it right, we can cut out of orbit
and save enough fuel for a controlled reentry.

To land here again.

Not a very attractive possibility.

We have very few alternatives, Mr. Spock.

 

Dr. McCoy! Mr. Boma!

When can we lift off, Scott?

Maybe eight minutes if the weight's right.

Gentlemen,

The ship will lift off in exactly 10 minutes.

You have that long to bury Mr. Gaetano.

Now it appears to be clear outside
at least for the moment.

I'll assist you.

Hurry.

 

The Columbus is aboard, sir.
The flight hatch is closed.

Transporter room reports Iast of the
landing parties have beamed safely up.

All systems report secured for warp factors.

Mr. Sulu, proceed on course for Makus 3...

at space normal speed.

 

Space normal, sir?

Those are my orders. Lieutenant Uhura,

order all sensor sections to direct beams aft.

Full function, continuous operation
until further orders.

Yes, sir.

 

Get to the ship! Immediate lift off!

 

Aah!

No! Go back!

Lift off!

Go back!

No!

 

All right, All right! Go!

Go! Go!

Go!

 

Go, Scott!

Aye, aye, sir.

I told you to lift off!

Don't be a fool, Mr. Spock!
We couldn't leave you out there!

Get us off, Scott!

We should be moving, but we're not.

 

Quite right, Mr. Scott.

They seem to be holding us down.

All systems are go, but we're not moving.

 

What are you doing?

Our boosters.

We will never be able to hold orbit.

Would you rather stay here?

No, Mr. Spock.

 

We're moving!

Let it go!

We're off!

I remind you we have yet to achieve orbit,
nor can we maintain it long.

An hour from now we may be right back
where we started from.

 

Gentelmen, by coming after me,

you may well have destroyed
your slim chance you have for your survival.

The logical thing for you to have done
was to have left me behind.

Spock, remind me to tell you that
I'm sick and tired of your logic.

That is a most illogical attitude.

 

Orbit in one minute, Mr. Scott.

Fuel status?

15 pounds PSI.

Approximately enough for one orbit, sir.

After that?

Tapping our boosters
ended our last chance for a soft landing.

You mean a burn-up?

That is the usual end of a decaying orbit.

I don't want to die up here.

Infinitely preferable to the kind of death
we'd got on the planet's surface, I should think.

I admire your ability
to make so measured a choice.

Mr. Spock. You said a while ago that
there were always alternatives.

Did l?

 

I may have been mistaken.

 

Well, at least I lived long enough
to hear that.

Is there anything we can do?

 

The Enterprise is surely on course
for Makus 3 by now.

I, for one, do not believe in angels.

Well, Mr. Spock,

so ends your first command.

Yes.

 

My first command.

Orbit attitude, Mr. Spock.

With our present fuel,

that gives us about 45 minutes.

 

Galileo to Enterprise.

Galileo to Enterprise, come in, please.

Galileo to Enterprise,

come in, please.

 

Mr. Spock!

 

What happened?

He jettisoned the fuel and ignited it.

We need that fuel to maintain orbit.

Are you out of your mind?

Perhaps, Mr. Boma.

 

How long do we have now, Scotty?

The orbit will start decaying
as soon as the fuel's exhausted.

Say six minutes.

 

Forward scanner to bridge, status report.
Section on alert.

Captain, there's something there
on the screen, at Taurus 2.

 

Sensors... a meteorite?

No. It's holding a lateral line.

There it is again.
Holding steady, Captain.

 

180 degrees about, Mr. Sulu.

Lieutenant Uhura, contact transporter room.

All beams ready.
Full normal speed.

 

A distress signal?

 

It's like sending up a flare.

Mr. Spock...

that was a good gamble.

Perhaps it was worth it.

 

No one out there to see it.

 

Orbit decaying, Mr. Spock.

 

10 seconds to atmosphere.

It may be the last action
you'll ever take, Mr. Spock,

 

but it was all human.

 

Totally illogical.

There was no chance.

That's exactly what I mean.

 

It's getting hot.

 

Transporters locked in, sir.

Activate beams.

 

Whatever it was, Captain,

 

it just burned up in the atmosphere.

 

Captain, transporter room
just beamed up five persons.

 

Alive and well.

 

Mr. Sulu,

 

proceed on course to Makus 3.

 

Ahead warp factor 1 .

Aye, aye, sir.

 

Warp factor 1.

 

Uh, Mr. Spock,

- Captain, there's really something.
- I don't understand about all of this.

And maybe you can explain it to me.
Logically, of course.

When you jettisoned the fuel
and ignited it, you knew

there was virtually no chance of it being seen,
yet you did it anyhow.

That would seem to me
to be an act of desperation.

Quite correct, Captain.

Now, we all know,
and I'm sure the doctor agrees with that

desperation is
a highly emotional state of mind.

How does your well-known logic explain that?

Quite simply, Captain.

I examined the problem from all angles,
and it was plainly hopeless.

Logic informed me that,
under the circumstances,

the only possible action
would have to be one of desperation.

Logical decision, logically arrived at.

Aha, ha ha.

I see. You mean you reasoned
that it was time for an emotional outburst.

 

Well, I... wouldn't put it in
exactly those terms, Captain, but...

those are essentially the facts.

 

You're not going to admit
that for the first time in your life,

you committed a purely
human, emotional act?

 

No, sir.

 

Mr. Spock,

you're a stubborn man.

 

Yes, sir.