"The middle of nowhere," observed McCoy as he came down the disembark ramp of the jet.473Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ6Kdx3WhXTn
There was only a glaring yellow desert all around them. It was absolutely flat, giving off a wavery haze. The only building visible anywhere was the huge hangar they'd landed near. The only signs of life were the two crew-cut, dark-suited men who were waiting on the hot runway.
"Does Beau Geste live around here?" inquired Pike.
One of the crew-cut young men approached Kirk. "How do you do, Colonel," he said in a crisp, polite voice. "Will you please come along this way."
Kirk shook his head and put his hands on his hips. He and the other two astronauts were wearing only their white jumpsuits now. "Not going any damn place," he assured his new guide," until someone tells us what the hell's going on."
"Everything will be explained to you inside," said the man.
"Bullshit! I want to know everything right now."
The second man said, "If we were in a position, Colonel Kirk, to explain things, we most certainly would. If you'll just be patient enough to come inside with us, I promise you'll soon understand."
"Have we been kidnapped?"
The other man brushed at his crew-cut. "I know this sounds strange, but we're all working for the same thing," he said. "Really. You'll understand this whole business, when you come inside."
"Maybe we better go inside, Jim," said McCoy.
"Doesn't look like we got a hell of a lot of choice," Kirk said. He gave his guides a mock salute. "Lead on!"
Pike scrutinized the hangar while they walked toward it. "Can't say I care much for the color scheme," he decided. "Painted the same color as this grungy desert. You know that means, Leonard?"
"What, boss?"
"This joint's meant to be camouflaged. Nobody's supposed to know it's here."
One of the crew-cut young men opened a metal door. He ushered the astronauts into a chilly metal corridor. Footfalls echoed with tinny sounds.
The first crew-cut young man halted and opened a metal door, which led off the corridor. "If you'll wait in here for a few moments...."
The room had white metal walls, no windows. Several functional metal chairs ringed a formica table.
"Hell of a way to come just for a poker game," said Pike.
When the three astronauts were inside, the door was closed on them.
"No cards," said McCoy, nodding at the bare table. "This reminds me of the waiting room of a doctor's office. You think they could've found out I got the clap?"
"There's an idea," said Pike, eyeing a chair for awhile before finally sitting in it. "They probably don't want to give the Martians a dose. You should've told 'em."
"Let's be serious for a moment," suggested Kirk.
"We are serious. We don't want the Martians coming down with a social disease," said Pike, rocking in his straight chair and clasping his hands behind his head. "Wouldn't that give the space program a black eye?"
Kirk paced. "What is this mess?"
"Red China," said McCoy. "It's a Red Chinese plot."
"I favor Blue Chinese," said Pike. "Goes better with the décor."
The door opened. All three men turned to stare at Dr. Roddenberry. He hesitated on the threshold, then came in and shut the door behind him. "Good morning."
"Hi, there, doc," said Pike, watching the NASA director seat himself at the head of the table. "A funny thing happened on the way to Mars."
Kirk's nostrils flared. "This isn't a goddamn tea party, Gene," he said. "So cut the bullshit and tell us what's going on!"
"Everybody sit down, okay?" Roddenberry ran his tongue over his upper lip, his eyes never quite meeting theirs.
McCoy, after a glance at Kirk, sat.
Kirk stayed where he was.
"This isn't exactly easy for me either," said Roddenberry, sighing.
"Tough shit!" said Kirk.
Another sigh. "Okay, here it comes," said Roddenberry, watching his hands press into the table top. "I guess I'd better start by telling you that if there was any other way, even a slight chance of some alternative, I'd give anything not to be here with you at this moment. Anything!" He forced himself to make eye contact with the two seated men in turn, then up at Kirk. "Jim, how long have we known each other?"
"I'd have to check my diary."
"Aw, don't be......sixteen years. Right, that's how long we've been friends," said Roddenberry, his head lowered again. "Boy, you should have seen yourself then. You looked like you'd just stepped off a Wheaties box. When I told everybody about this dream I had of conquering the biggest damn new frontier there was---well, most of them looked at me like I was nuts. But not you, Jim. You looked at me and you said, 'Okay, when?'" Roddenberry's left hand grasped his right. "I remember the talks we had about making this a better world, by finding out about other worlds. We were going to reach so high---In school, in college, I never had that many---close friends. I guess I made up for it with you, got all the missed bullshit sessions out of my system." He risked a glance at Kirk. "I remember when you told me Janice was pregnant the first time. We went out and got bombed. Then when Peter was born, we got bombed again. The two of us, Buck Rogers and Doctor Huer, talking about reaching the distant stars, and the bartender telling us we'd had enough. Then Armstrong stepped out on the moon and we cried, because we were so proud. Pike, you and McCoy came in around then. Both bright and talented wise asses who...."
"Maybe this is doing something for you, Gene," said Kirk, striding up to the table. "But I could do with a lot less hearts and flowers and a few more hard, cold facts about why the hell you yanked us out of Enterprise IX and dragged us here----wherever the hell we are."
Roddenberry raised a hand, almost as if he thought he were afraid his longtime friend were going to hit him. "Honest to God, Jim, this is the toughest thing I've ever had to do in all my life," he said. "Let me, please, work up to it my way."
McCoy gave a nod. "Let the man speak his piece, Jim."
Snorting out his breath, Kirk took hold of a chair, turned it around and straddled it. "Okay, okay, let's hear the whole spiel."
"I remember when Glenn made his first orbit in Mercury. Christ, they put up TV sets in Grand Central Station. Thousands of commuters missed their trains to watch," said Roddenberry. "But when Apollo XVII landed on the moon, people called up the networks to bitch because the I Love Lucy reruns were preempted. Lucy, for God's sake, and her broken-English husband meant more to them than one of the major achievements of civilization." He twisted his fingers and sank lower into his chair. "And the presidents? My god! They'd dislocate their jaws praising the space program. Then, no one'll ever know why, all you began to hear was how much it was all costing. Is it worth 20 billion to go to another planet? Why not cure cancer? Why not feed the poor? Solve the energy crisis? Yeah, as if you could use cost accounting on a dream." He separated his hands, placed them flat on the formica. "And today. Who was at the launch? The Veep. That prissy bastard and his knothead wife. The President was too busy. Yeah, too busy and a little bit chicken-shit. Two months ago he told me, 'Gene, make this one good. Congress is on my back. They're looking for a reason to scuttle the whole program. You can't afford one single screw-up. This one's got to be perfect, or it's all over.' All over. The only way he'd even agreed to make the phone call to Mars during the landing was when I told him he could make it collect."473Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ9PQIN9YCfs
Kirk leaned forward. "Where are you going with all this blather?"
"'ll get to that, bear with me. I'm sorry I have just about preach a sermon to you three," said Roddenberry. "What I'm leading up to is, the President---hail to the chief---the damn President of the United States, made it crystal clear to me that we couldn't afford a screw-up." He raised his hands, then let them fall. "Well guess what, gents? We had a screw-up. A first-class, bona-fide, made-in-the-US of A screw-up."
"We're listening," said Pike.473Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡy7x9iOSsAD
"The nice people from Delgado Industries delivered us a life-support system cheap enough to allow them a nice profit on the deal," replied Roddenberry. "That's okay. The profit motive. It's what turns the wheels in this country. Except this time there was a little too much profit and not enough life support. We found out two months ago it won't work. You guys would all be dead in a shade under three weeks. Simple as that."
Kirk straightened up in his chair, shocked at what he'd just found out. "My God!" he said. "How come nobody told us about it?"
"What was I supposed to do, Jim?" said Roddenberry. "Make a nice report? Say 'Excuse me, Mr. President, we got a little screw-up'?' Sure, and then Congress gets its excuse. The President gets off the hook, and we go no more a-roving. One foul-up too many, adios space program. And what's so great about Mars anyway, huh?" He took a deep breath, pushed at the table and stood up. "Well, that's the speech. Now I'd like you to come along with me." He walked to the door without waiting for them.
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