“The only alternative we have is to find Spock and retrieve the trilithium modules before our eight days are up. I suggest we proceed to that consideration immediately. Dr. McCoy.”
“Yes, sir?”
“Something has obviously gone wrong with Mr. Spock’s implant. Will you please review the procedure and the profile of his native link? We might make our job easier that way.”
“Certainly, sir,” McCoy said. He walked to the computer terminal at the other end of the conference table, sat in front of it and pushed a button. A visual monitor on the bulkhead was revealed behind a sliding panel. He punched another button and the low hum of the activated terminal filled the room.
“Computer…” McCoy began.
“Recording.”
“I want access to all medical records on the telescan project.”
“Working.”
“Display the profile of Commander Spock’s Kyrosian link.”
“Working,” the computer replied again. A moment later, the monitor screen was filled with the glowing green lines of the Kyrosian personality profile.
McCoy rose partway out of his seat. “My god!” he exploded.
“What’s the matter, Bones?” Kirk asked, moving toward the monitor screen.
“That’s the profile of a madman! If Spock is hooked into that, no wonder he’s acting like he is! But how…?” Regaining a little composure, McCoy reseated himself.
“Computer, scan for error,” he demanded in a shaky voice.
“There is no error.”
McCoy stared at Kirk.
“Computer,” Kirk said, “identify that profile.”
The computer began to speak. “Name, Chag Gara. Age, forty-three. Origin, hill clan, Tara. Subject is a paranoid who believes he has been chosen by the tribal gods to lead a crusade to unify Kyros’ city-states under a theocratic government with himself as head. Subject has been able to attract a certain following among the unsophisticated, superstitious hill tribes. Probability is that subject induces highly emotional state in listeners. Biographical data in medical banks indicates subject has been in Andros for several weeks attempting to enlist the city-dwellers in his crusade. His low general intelligence and inability to order his thoughts logically have mitigated against the use of the same tactics in Andros which were moderately successful in the hills. Except for a small scattering of unstable urbanites, subject is considered a mentally disturbed fanatic and has been received with hostility and derision. Probability is .87 that subject will resort to military action. The nearest analogs in data banks are: Mohammed, founder Islam, approximately A.D. 600, planet Sol 3; Stur, founder Thirty Tribes, Year of Blood, planet Vulcan; Nerid…”
“Stop,” Kirk ordered. “Estimate probability of Chag Gara’s success.”
“Probability is point zero zero zero one seven,” the computer replied.
Kirk stared coldly at the chief medical officer.
“Dr. McCoy, I believe an explanation is in order. Why was my first officer linked to an alien lunatic?”
The other didn’t seem to hear the question. He sat staring at the profile, his face still registering shock and dismay. “The implications,” he muttered, “the implications…”
“Implications later,” snapped the captain. “I want to know what happened!”
McCoy shook his head in bewilderment. “I haven’t the slightest idea. That profile is almost the complete opposite of what we selected for Spock. Somehow, they must have gotten switched and he was tuned to a profile in our reject file.”
“How could that have happened?” Kirk demanded, his voice frosty.
“It couldn’t have! When Ensign George beamed up with the personality scans she made from the inn, she, Nurse Chapel, and I sorted and cataloged them according to whether they would be suitable or not. We even took physical build into account, because there is a relationship between it and behavior. We stored the rejects in the medical library for future study and then began the matching process. I personally cross-indexed each profile with the survey party member with whom it was going to be linked and placed the magcards in the tuner.” He gestured toward the screen. “This… this is impossible!”
“Impossible or not,” Kirk said, “we’re faced with a deliberate act of sabotage. I want everyone who had any connection with the telescan project up here on the double. If there has been any violation of Starfleet regulations which has resulted in a violation of General
Order Number One, there’s going to be an immediate court-martial.”
McCoy turned to the communicator. On ship-wide call, he said, “Dr. Mbenga, Nurse Chapel, and Ensign George: report to the briefing room at once.”
“I don’t think you realize the implications of what has happened, Captain,” McCoy said, facing Kirk. “Watch. Computer.”
“Recording.”
“Display Commander Spock’s personality profile.”
“Working,” the computer replied, and a complex graph replaced that of the Kyrosian hillman.
“Let me explain what this shows about Spock,” McCoy said, once more in control of himself. “We can ignore most of this,” he said, as he gestured to the complex electronic graph. “Only five areas are of immediate concern. Computer, bar graph the IQ, LQ, EQ, DQ, and SQ. Wipe the rest.”
The screen blanked for a second, then a new configuration appeared.
“Observe, gentlemen,” McCoy began, pointing to the first bar. “Spock’s intelligence quotient almost runs off the scale. He has a high genius rating, higher than most Vulcans and much higher than humans. His LQ—logic quotient, that is—which measures his ability to apply his intelligence to the logical solution of problems, is equally high.” He pointed to the second bar. “The man is an organic computer. Once supplied with sufficient data, he always arrives at the optimum solution.”
“Why the lecture?” Kirk asked. “We know all that.”
“You’ll see my point in a minute, Captain. In contrast,” he pointed again, “his emotional quotient is extremely low. If he were a pure Vulcan, it would be zero. His DQ is.”
“DQ?” asked Kirk.
“Delusional quotient. That’s a measurement of the extent to which personal beliefs interfere with the perception of objective reality. His sensuality quotient, for obvious reasons of Vulcan physiology, is also zero. Mr.
Spock is incapable of any sexual feelings except for widely spaced periods of intense arousal. And now, to the point. Computer.”
“Recording.”
“Bar graph the same characteristics of subject Kyrosian Chag Gara.”
“Working.”
Another graph appeared on the screen.
“You will note here,” McCoy said, “a profile that is almost diametrically opposed to our first officer’s. Very low IQ, an almost nonexistent LQ, but an abnormally high EQ, DQ, and SQ. From the last, I’d surmise that he preaches a paradise for the faithful that is full of beautiful and eager houris. I’d also bet that he spends as much time chasing women as he does preaching,” McCoy concluded.
“I’m afraid to see what’s coming next,” Kirk said soberly.
In reply, McCoy nodded. He spoke to the computer. “Computer… superimpose Spock’s graph on the one now snowing.”
There was a collective gasp from the somber group as the new image appeared. Each of the five bars reached almost to the top of the scale.
“And that, gentlemen, is what we’re up against. Spock is locked into a delusional syndrome from which he can’t escape. He knows the gods have chosen him as an instrument of their will, and he will apply all of his vast intellectual resources to carry it out. Unless we stop him before his movement acquires momentum, his hordes will sweep across Kyros converting or killing.”