Epilogue

The soft blue and white clouds of York III shone brightly out of the viewscreen, lighting the Enterprise’s bridge like sunlight through a large bay window. The familiar sounds of the crew at work were also a comfort, as was the presence of Captain Kirk in his command chair again. Everything seemed to be in its proper place at last; even, Spock reluctantly admitted to himself, McCoy standing beside the captain’s chair.

The intercom whistled, and Ensign Vagle said, “Transporter room one. Stella Mudd is away.” He sounded considerably relieved to be delivering the news, as well he might. Stella had been rather unhappy with the outcome of things on Distrel, and had made sure everyone on the Enterprise knew it. Spock felt sorry for her employees in the hotel when she returned, but he was glad to have the last remnant of this whole situation off the ship. Harry Mudd’s influence spread chaos wherever it went, and Spock was eager to put it all behind him.

Captain Kirk’s thoughts evidently paralleled his own. He sighed loudly, then said, “Well, gentlemen, I hope that’s the last we’ll see of either Mudd for a while.”

McCoy nodded. “Forever would be just about long enough for me. But somehow I doubt we’ll be that lucky. Harry has a way of popping up just when you need him the least.”

“Indeed, Doctor?” Spock asked him. “Ignoring the mysticism and psychotic sense of individual persecution inherent in your argument, a look at the facts of the matter show that his influence in this case was, in fact, of considerable benefit.”

“Only you would defend Harry Mudd,” McCoy said. “All right, I’ll bite. What good did he do us?”

“He provided the Federation with three prospective new member worlds.”

Both Kirk and McCoy looked at him in surprise. “Did I miss something in the confusion?” Kirk asked. “I thought Distrel and Prastor were still independent. Defiantly so. And as for Arnhall, one crochety old lady on the Council of Heroes isn’t exactly a revolution.”

“Yes,” said Spock. “But how long do you imagine the current situation can continue? The leaders of Distrel and Prastor both know the truth about their ‘gods’ now, and a growing number of citizens have also learned the secret. I do not believe the current system can survive that knowledge. And when the Nevisians begin looking for a new direction, the Federation will be there to welcome them.”

“I don’t know,” said McCoy. “People are reluctant to change. It wouldn’t surprise me a bit if they kept right on fighting with each other even if they do know what’s behind their afterlife.”

Spock nodded. “Perhaps. If history is any guide—or for that matter, if personal experience is any guide—then people will always fight. But generally they make up again. Harry Mudd reminded the Nevisians that they can make peace if they want to, and the complications that arose from the android proved to them that they can make peace when they need to. I believe that is an important lesson for anyone to learn, and one which will eventually lead them to a less violent way of life.”

McCoy shook his head. “I hope you’re right, but you’ve got more faith in human—or should I say humanoid—nature than I do.”

“Perhaps it is not entirely faith,” said Spock. “There is one other detail I failed to mention while I was in the caverns below the palace.”

“What?” Kirk asked.

Spock realized he had to back up a bit to make his point. “The lights were not on when I beamed in the first time. They responded automatically to my presence, and presumably turned off again when I and Scotty and the Grand General and Harry Mudd beamed away. In any case, they were off when I went back alone, and they again turned on automatically upon my arrival.”

“So the lights are automatic,” McCoy said impatiently. “So’s everything else in the Nevis system. What’s the point?”

“The point, Doctor, is that everything is also old. The computer was designed for longevity, but the lights apparently were not, and they have lost a great deal of their original efficiency. They now generate nearly as much heat as light, and the heat they produced the first time we were there apparently loosened a fixture, for the light over the central processor was hanging a bit askew. I would never have noticed it had I not heard a somewhat ominous creak from overhead while I was scanning the computer with my tricorder.”

“You’re saying the light is going to come down on the computer?” Kirk asked. “The main processor?”

“That seems likely,” Spock replied. “Perhaps not immediately, but soon. Within another three or four visits, I imagine. And I did not see a template for another one among the items stored for duplication, so I suspect the main computer is irreplaceable.”

Kirk said, “You know the Grand General won’t be able to resist going down for a peek once in a while. Why didn’t you tell him?”

Spock had the attention of the entire bridge crew now. He felt a bit uncomfortable under their scrutiny, for he knew that humans could react unpredictably when he explained a logical decision, but the captain had asked for his reasoning so he forged ahead. “I decided that informing him of the imminent failure would have violated the Prime Directive.”

“How could warning him that the whole computer system is in danger violate the Prime Directive?” asked McCoy. “When that light falls, it’ll change everything.”

Spock nodded. “Indeed it will, provided they have not changed already. But the light fixture was old before we arrived, and would almost certainly have failed within a few hundred more years even if we had not activated it. Therefore, I reasoned that by alerting anyone to the danger and giving them the opportunity to repair it, I would have artificially extended the amount of time the resurrection system dominated their society. So I remained silent.”

So did the bridge crew for a few seconds. Then Chekov could contain himself no longer. He snickered, then Sulu chuckled, which set Uhura into a fit of giggles, which in turn brought out McCoy’s patented goofy grin, all of which made the captain shake his head and laugh out loud.

“Spock,” he said when he could catch his breath, “that’s the most amazing line of doublethink I’ve ever heard.”

Perplexed as usual around displays of mirth, Spock said, “Then you disapprove?”

“Disapprove? Of course not. It’s perfect. It’s just so…so devious. I think you’ve been spending too much time around Harry Mudd.”

“The association was entirely involuntary, I assure you,” Spock told him.

“I’m sure it was. But just this once, I think it was a good thing.” Kirk sat up a little straighter in his chair. “And now I think it’s time we left the Nevisians to their own devices, and Harry Mudd to his. We’re late for our rendezvous with the O’Halloran. We wouldn’t want Spock to get into trouble for dereliction of duty, now, would we?”

“That would be unfortunate,” said Spock, relieved that his logic hadn’t gotten him in trouble this time.

“Indeed it would. Plot a course for the Duval system, Mr. Chekov.”

“Laid in, sir.”

“Mr. Sulu, take us out of orbit. Ahead warp factor seven.”

“Aye, sir.”

Spock watched the viewscreen as the planet slid aside and the distant stars filled the view. When Sulu engaged the warp engines they turned to streaks, but Spock shivered as an entirely different picture flashed before his eyes. For just an instant it had looked to him as if someone had reached out and stirred the stars. He knew it was illogical, the product of an overworked brain and nothing more, yet for that moment he had even known who had done the stirring. Harry Mudd, of course, who was once again free and no doubt dreaming up his next bit of mischief somewhere out there in the vastness of space.