conventional pen-and-inks of fruit and a few draftsman-like studies of electronic circuitry. The Doctor found himself turning back to one of Uhura bending over her communications panel, dark head tilted characteristically as she listened to voices only she could hear. “I really like this one.”
The younger man looked over his shoulder, then, taking the book from McCoy deftly ripped the page out and handed it to him. The Doctor grinned, pleased, and pointed to the corner. “Thanks. Can you sign it for me? I’ve got a feeling that’ll be worth money some day. Jan agrees with me—says you’ve got real talent.”
Zar shook his head, mumbling, “You’re an optimist, Doctor,” but McCoy could tell he was pleased as he signed the sketch with a flourish.
Though still puzzled by the younger man’s reticence and ill-humor, the Medical Officer was relieved that his black mood seemed to be lifting. He suggested lunch, and saw a glint of humor in the gray eyes. “Have you ever known me to refuse food?”
The small galley was crowded when they entered. McCoy punched in his order, and took a sandwich, soup, coffee and a large piece of pie to an empty table. His companion joined him in a minute, carrying a tray loaded to its edges with a huge salad, soy protein wafers, several vegetables and two kinds of dessert. The Doctor shook his head, watching the other tackle the salad enthusiastically. “You still taking that supplement I prescribed?”
“Yes. It tastes good.”
“Well, I think you can stop soon. You’ve certainly filled out since you left Sarpeidon.”
“I know. I had to get a size larger coverall the [93] other day. The old one got to be too small in the shoulders.”
“Keep eating like that, and it’ll be too small around your waist.”
Zar paused, bite halfway to his mouth, and looked slightly alarmed. “Do you really think so? I work out with Captain Kirk almost every day, and by myself a lot. The Captain says it makes him tired to watch me.” He put his fork down, shaking his head. “I wouldn’t like being fat.”
McCoy grinned. “Don’t be so literal. Go on, eat your food. I was kidding—that means making a joke. Just come up to sickbay sometime and let me put you on the scale for my records—and to satisfy my curiosity.”
The conversation had turned again to painting, and McCoy was telling his listener about the art galleries on Earth when all animation abruptly faded from Zar’ s eyes. The Doctor followed his gaze to see the First Officer and the Chief Engineer across the mess-room. Now we’ll find out what this is all about, he thought, waving them over.
The two officers sat down, and McCoy and Scott exchanged a few comments, while Spock and Zar sat silently. The Doctor looked from one impassive face to the other. Worse than ever. And Zar isn’t trying anymore.
“Have you finished your physics assignment?” The Vulcan was abrupt; his inflection that of a teacher to a backward student. McCoy could sense Zar’ s embarrassment, though the younger man’s face didn’t change.
“Most of it, sir.”
“Very well. What are Fraunhofer lines?”
Zar sighed. “The dark absorption lines in the solar spectrum.”
“Essentially correct, but lacking in detail. What is the function of spectroscopy?”
“It was through the function of spectroscopy that ...” Zar continued, his voice precise, sounding [94] like a study tape. He finished, and took a deep breath.
The catechism continued. “What is the Heisenburg Uncertainty Principle? You need not give the math.”
Generous bastard, McCoy thought, glancing at the Vulcan. Why is he doing this? Sudden flash of insight: he doesn’t know any other way to talk to the kid. ...
“... the measurement of its moment is approximately equal to Planck’s constant, ‘h.’ ‘h’ is equal to 6.26 times 10 to the minus 27th ergs per second,” Zar finished with relief.
Stop. Now. McCoy thought. But the Vulcan continued after a second’s
The younger man looked over his shoulder, then, taking the book from McCoy deftly ripped the page out and handed it to him. The Doctor grinned, pleased, and pointed to the corner. “Thanks. Can you sign it for me? I’ve got a feeling that’ll be worth money some day. Jan agrees with me—says you’ve got real talent.”
Zar shook his head, mumbling, “You’re an optimist, Doctor,” but McCoy could tell he was pleased as he signed the sketch with a flourish.
Though still puzzled by the younger man’s reticence and ill-humor, the Medical Officer was relieved that his black mood seemed to be lifting. He suggested lunch, and saw a glint of humor in the gray eyes. “Have you ever known me to refuse food?”
The small galley was crowded when they entered. McCoy punched in his order, and took a sandwich, soup, coffee and a large piece of pie to an empty table. His companion joined him in a minute, carrying a tray loaded to its edges with a huge salad, soy protein wafers, several vegetables and two kinds of dessert. The Doctor shook his head, watching the other tackle the salad enthusiastically. “You still taking that supplement I prescribed?”
“Yes. It tastes good.”
“Well, I think you can stop soon. You’ve certainly filled out since you left Sarpeidon.”
“I know. I had to get a size larger coverall the [93] other day. The old one got to be too small in the shoulders.”
“Keep eating like that, and it’ll be too small around your waist.”
Zar paused, bite halfway to his mouth, and looked slightly alarmed. “Do you really think so? I work out with Captain Kirk almost every day, and by myself a lot. The Captain says it makes him tired to watch me.” He put his fork down, shaking his head. “I wouldn’t like being fat.”
McCoy grinned. “Don’t be so literal. Go on, eat your food. I was kidding—that means making a joke. Just come up to sickbay sometime and let me put you on the scale for my records—and to satisfy my curiosity.”
The conversation had turned again to painting, and McCoy was telling his listener about the art galleries on Earth when all animation abruptly faded from Zar’ s eyes. The Doctor followed his gaze to see the First Officer and the Chief Engineer across the mess-room. Now we’ll find out what this is all about, he thought, waving them over.
The two officers sat down, and McCoy and Scott exchanged a few comments, while Spock and Zar sat silently. The Doctor looked from one impassive face to the other. Worse than ever. And Zar isn’t trying anymore.
“Have you finished your physics assignment?” The Vulcan was abrupt; his inflection that of a teacher to a backward student. McCoy could sense Zar’ s embarrassment, though the younger man’s face didn’t change.
“Most of it, sir.”
“Very well. What are Fraunhofer lines?”
Zar sighed. “The dark absorption lines in the solar spectrum.”
“Essentially correct, but lacking in detail. What is the function of spectroscopy?”
“It was through the function of spectroscopy that ...” Zar continued, his voice precise, sounding [94] like a study tape. He finished, and took a deep breath.
The catechism continued. “What is the Heisenburg Uncertainty Principle? You need not give the math.”
Generous bastard, McCoy thought, glancing at the Vulcan. Why is he doing this? Sudden flash of insight: he doesn’t know any other way to talk to the kid. ...
“... the measurement of its moment is approximately equal to Planck’s constant, ‘h.’ ‘h’ is equal to 6.26 times 10 to the minus 27th ergs per second,” Zar finished with relief.
Stop. Now. McCoy thought. But the Vulcan continued after a second’s
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