The Needs of the Tribble: Tale Two

Uhura: Oh, it's adorable. What is it?
JONES: What is it? Why, lovely lady, it's a Tribble.
UHURA: A Tribble?
JONES: Only the sweetest creature known to man

From "The Trouble with Tribbles" TOS Season Two

Amanda Grayson, lovely wife of Sarek the distinguished Vulcan Ambassador to Earth, proud mother of Commander S'chn T'gai Spock, First Officer on the Star Ship Enterprise, renowned teacher at The Vulcan Science Academy, and care giver extraordinaire, entered her home office and looked at the transparent aluminum cage on her desk. The cage housed Otis, the baby Tribble that Spock had entrusted to her care several weeks ago. She stood there for a minute looking worriedly at the baby Tribble. It was obvious to her motherly eye that Otis was not doing well. His normal and soothing trilling was noticeably absent, his usually soft glossy fur was rough and dull, and most worrying of all, Otis had not eaten any of his usual delicious once a week Tribble kibble.

She peered into the cage. "Otis, what's wrong, baby? It's not like you to be unhappy." Otis, as expected said nothing. She reached in and took the Tribble baby out of his cage. She stroked him gently, but again there was none of his usual soft trilling. Tribbles, Spock had told her, only did two things; they trilled, which made everyone who touched them (except for Klingons) feel relaxed, happy and soothed, and they reproduced, which made everyone very upset and angry.

The reproducing part is why Otis only ate once a week; eating encouraged rampant reproduction in Tribbles, and therefore Otis had to be kept on a strict diet at all times. Looking at Otis, Amanda had to admit that she was worried. She had already tried several things in the hope he would feel better; she'd changed the location of the cage, she'd changed his kibble, she'd given him distilled instead of regular water, she'd petted, soothed, and murmured loving words to him; nothing had worked and now she was faced with a horrifying thought. What if Otis died while in her care? And after all the trouble Spock had gone to make sure this baby lived and thrived. No! She had to do something. She thought for a minute about what her next step should be when Sarek entered her office.

"Amanda, I am leaving for my office. I have to attend a meeting with the Vulcan Council."

"Hmm," she responded absently.

Sarek, somewhat affronted at her lack of attention to his statement, looked at her closely. She was totally ignoring him; that was first, unacceptable, and second, most unlike his wife.

He said again, "Amanda, I am leaving."

"Yes, yes, Sarek. Goodbye."

"Amanda, you are not attending to me or to what I am saying," Sarek said, and it must be admitted, somewhat huffily. He eyed her distracted countenance. "Is something troubling you, my wife?"

"What? Oh, yes, I'm so sorry, Sarek. Yes, something is troubling me. I'm worried about Otis."

"Otis?" Sarek searched his prodigious eidetic memory for the name Otis; no nothing. He was sure he knew no one named Otis. "Who is Otis, Amanda?"

"Sarek! Otis is Spock's Tribble," Amanda responded impatiently. Honestly, men were all alike. Unless it had something to do with them, they just didn't care.

"Ah, yes, of course. Spock's Tribble," Sarek responded. He admitted to himself that he was somewhat puzzled at the turn of this conversation. "What is wrong with…Otis, Amanda?"

"That's the trouble, Sarek. I don't know. He's not doing well. He hasn't been well for a couple of weeks. I've tried everything but nothing has worked. I'm at my wits end, so I've been thinking that my next step is to take him to one of the Vulcan healers."

Sarek looked at her aghast. "Take him to a Vulcan healer! Really, Amanda; Vulcan healers do not treat Tribbles. That is a ridiculous idea." Sarek did not roll his eyes because he was Vulcan and Vulcans do not roll eyes. Also he was always dignified and it would definitely be beneath his dignity to roll his eyes; but, it must be admitted he felt like doing it, he really did.

Amanda eyed him. The normal soft blue of her eyes turned a steely grey; her chin lifted, her jaw firmed.

Sarek, blissfully unaware of his danger, said again. "No, Amanda, you will not take this Tribble to a healer." He spoke very definitely.

"Yes, Sarek, I will." Amanda also spoke very definitely. Her soft voice brooked no argument. "Vulcan healers heal, and Otis is sick so I'm taking him today." Amanda didn't even raise her voice.

"I forbid it Amanda! This is a Tribble. You can not take a Tribble to a healer. Can you imagine the consternation of the healer? No, and that is final."

Amanda looked at him for a long moment. Then she smiled sweetly and dangerously at her beloved. "Very well, Sarek. If you really don't want me to take him to a Vulcan healer, you'll have to figure out what's wrong with him. So. Go. Right. Ahead."

"I?" Sarek said, both affronted and horrified. "Certainly not. I know nothing about Tribbles, Amanda. How could I possibly discover what is wrong with this one?"

"Well, since you know nothing about Tribbles, Sarek, you'll have to meld with him." Amanda crossed her arms and looked serenely at her husband.

"Meld with him! Amanda have you lost your reason? That is a ridiculous and unseemly suggestion. I absolutely refuse to meld with a Tribble!"

"Sarek." Amanda looked sternly at him with the face that always quelled recalcitrant uppity Vulcans in her classes. "You have a choice, either I take him to the Vulcan healer or you meld with Otis. It doesn't have to be a deep meld, dear, after all Tribbles have very tiny brains. All you have to do is touch him to find out what's wrong with him. So, it's up to you; Vulcan healer, or Vulcan mind meld. Make up your mind, because as we say on Earth, 'time is a wastin'."

Sarek looked at the lovely implacable face of his determined wife and felt the usual feeling of helplessness that came over him when Amanda got like this. He sighed in resignation. After almost 40 years of marriage, he knew he would not win this one. His Vulcan brain ran rapidly through all the possible ramifications of his choice. It was important to remember that Vulcan healers were notorious gossips; they were not bound by patient/doctor confidentiality when it came to treating off worlders, local animals, or alien animals. If Amanda took the Tribble to a healer there would be gossip, possible derision, loss of dignity; there would be TALK. On the other hand Sarek considered, he could do a quick meld, tell Amanda his conclusion, and that would be the end of it. After a few seconds, Sarek made his logical choice.

"Very well, Amanda. I will meld with Otis."

"Thank you, Sarek." She smiled lovingly at him and suddenly looked mischievous. "You'll get your reward this evening."

Sarek flushed, his ears turning a pale green. "Let us proceed," he told her haughtily.

Amanda lifted the top of the cage, picked up Otis in her hands and held him up to Sarek. Sarek looked at the little one; he had no idea which was Otis' "head". Was it in the front or back of the tiny body? After thinking for a minute, he chose the middle of Otis' fluffy body, extended a long slender finger to the baby Tribble and touched him gently. He closed his eyes and concentrated.

After a moment Sarek opened his eyes. "I find that Tribbles are not interesting creatures," he told his wife. "Be that as it may, Amanda, my meld reveals that Otis is lonely. That is all I could gather from the meld. His brain is not capable of much thought, but he misses and yearns for social interaction."

"Lonely?" Her blue eyes widened. "Oh my goodness, how sad. Of course he is. Tribbles are very social little animals. Where there is one Tribble, there are many Tribbles. Poor little Otis. Thank you, dear."

"I am now going to my office, Amanda. I hope this is the last I hear about this Tribble."

"Yes, yes, goodbye Sarek, have a good day." Amanda told him absently. "I have to go and comm Spock."

On Board the Enterprise

Jim Kirk walked into the mess hall and picked up his dinner tray; he sat at the command crew's usual table. He looked around. It was unusual, but he was the first one here this evening. It wasn't often that the Captain was able to get away from the bridge right on time for dinner. He began to tuck into his chicken fried steak quickly. Bones, with his own tray of salad and a lean chicken breast, came to sit by him, eyeing Jim's meal choice.

Jim asked hurriedly, "Evening, Bones. How was your day?"

"Uneventful, thank the good Lord. Only one surgery today, a tonsillectomy and the Ensign will be back at work tomorrow. Noticed it was unusually peaceful today. Weren't there any rampagin' Klingons, Romulan ships, crazy demi gods or other berserkers around?"

"Nope, all was calm and all was bright today," grinned his Captain, tucking into his steak as fast as he could before Bones took it away.

Uhura, Scotty, Chekov, and Sulu brought their dinner trays to the table and sat down.

McCoy smiled at them. "Evenin' everyone. Everyone bright and chipper this evenin'?"

They nodded. As usual conversation was sparse until food had been partially consumed.

Jim looked up to see the tall slender figure of Spock coming toward the table. He had his usual bowl of Plomeek soup and a side of salad.

"Mr. Spock, have a seat." Spock sat down across from Jim and silently began to eat.

The murmur of conversation began as the command crew discussed their day. Chekov and Sulu made plans for their day off, and Uhura and McCoy discussed an obscure Southern song that Uhura was trying to learn. Jim listened with half and ear, preoccupied with Komack's latest unreasonable demands of the Enterprise and his crew. Komack was his immediate supervisor, but sometimes his orders were ridiculous and needlessly dangerous. Jim didn't want to go over his head to the sector chief, but he would if pushed. He looked up and noticed Spock's deep introspection. He hadn't said a word since he'd joined them. Spock was always rather quiet, but at dinner he usually participated in conversation and he and Bones usually enjoyed one of their "arguments" to pass the time.

"Spock, are you all right? Is there something the matter?"

Spock looked up, slight surprise on his face. "With me, Captain? No, nothing is wrong. I am fine. However, something is wrong with Otis."

"Otis?" Jim searched his memory. Did Enterprise have a crewman named Otis? He couldn't recall the name. He noticed that everyone had stopped talking and they were looking expectantly at Spock.

"Yes, Jim, remember the baby Tribble? The one you found in your bed and we transported to Vulcan. My mother commed me earlier and she told me that Otis is not doing well." Spock's dark eyes looked troubled.

"Ah," said Jim. He was rather at a loss for words. Amanda had commed Spock because the Tribble was ill? He took a sip of his drink to give himself time to respond.

"Yes," Spock continued. "Sarek melded with Otis to discover what is wrong with the baby Tribble."

Jim choked on his tea. He began to cough violently. Bones, looking alarmed, starting pounding him on the back.

"Jim, Jim, are you OK? Did the tea go down the wrong pipe?"

"I'm fine, Bones," wheezed Jim, "Stop pounding me. I thought I heard Spock say that Sarek melded with the Tribble."

"Yes, Jim." Spock spoke patiently, looking troubled. "Sarek melded with Otis because my mother was worried. It was either that or she was going to take him to a Vulcan healer, so Sarek decided melding was preferable."

Jim's brain stuttered to a halt and then boggled. It absolutely refused to picture Sarek in a mind meld with a baby Tribble; there were just some things that brains were not meant to do, and this was apparently one of them. He looked at his command crew expecting to see smiles or laughter at the thought of Sarek melding with a Tribble. Instead he saw nothing except concerned faces. He glanced covertly at Bones; here was a perfect opportunity in front of the doctor to make fun of Spock about the Tribble, but instead he, too, looked concerned. Jim's world view tilted precariously.

Uhura's soft voice asked. "Did your father discover what is wrong with Otis, Mr. Spock?"

"Yes, Lieutenant Uhura, he did. He told my mother that Otis is lonely."

Jim started coughing violently again. Bones looked worriedly at him. "I think you're comin' down with somethin' Jim. Come see me in the mornin' if that cough continues." Bones turned to Spock. "I can see why Otis might be lonely, Spock. Tribbles are very social creatures, you never see just one Tribble."

"God no!" said Jim, a shudder running through him.

"Poor wee beastie," said Scotty, glaring at his Captain. He could not forget that Jim, in a fit of temper, had threatened to shove Otis out of the ship's airlock.1

"So what can we do, Mr. Spock?" Sulu asked hurriedly." Let's not go there, he thought. Insubordination and brigs had been mentioned, he remembered with a shudder.

"I don't know, Mr. Sulu. I have been trying to think of a solution, but I must confess I have not been able to arrive at one. Another Tribble to keep him company is out of the question."

Jim looked horrified. "Absolutely out of the question, Mr. Spock!" Visions of Sherman's Planet flickered in his overactive imagination as he pictured Vulcan overrun with Tribbles.

Uhura put her fork down. "Don't worry, Mr. Spock. We'll think of something." She made eye contact with Bones, Scotty, Sulu and Chekov. Everyone nodded their heads solemnly. "What we have to do first is research all the information that's out there about Tribbles," she said thoughtfully.

"I'll look through everything Star Fleet Medical has on Tribbles," said McCoy.

"Sulu and I will check out all there is in the Enterprise library data bases," said Chekov.

"I'll comm around the sector and speak to people who have Tribbles as pets and see if they have any suggestions," said Uhura. She stood up. "Don't you worry, Mr. Spock, The Tribble Troubleshooters are on the job. We'll find a solution to Otis' loneliness, poor little thing. We'll have another dinner meeting tomorrow evening. Hopefully by then we'll have found out something useful."

They all left with a clatter of trays and Jim was left alone to contemplate that which was his life as a Captain on the Enterprise.

The next day was mostly uneventful. Jim's power struggle with Komack continued; he thought drearily that his famed silver tongue had turned to brass since Komack had dug in his heels and wanted to put the Enterprise and her crew at risk for a mission that would accomplish absolutely nothing.

When he went to dinner that evening, his command crew was already there. Uhura had called The Tribble Troubleshooter's committee to order and Bones was reporting. "I've found nothin' of substance in Star Fleet Medical's files except that Tribbles are long lived as long as they're happy."

Sulu and Chekov looked unhappy. "We found out that there are many animals who hate Tribbles, Mr. Spock. Hamsters, Gerbils, Ferrets, cats, all hate Tribbles. Most alien animals large and small mostly hate them too. Apparently, instead of making them happy with their trilling, the Tribbles make these animals angry."

"Did you find any animal species that likes Tribbles?" asked Spock.

"Nyet, Mr. Spock, not so far, but ve haven't finished," said Chekov. "There are still many data bases to go through."

Spock turned worried eyes to Uhura. "Anything from your contacts?"

"No Sir….but I still have many contacts left to speak with, Mr. Spock. Don't give up hope."

Jim opened his mouth to make a light comment just to cut the tension, but catching Bones' knowing glare he closed it again. Apparently, The Tribble Troubleshooters were not in the mood for levity.

"All right, then, let's get back to work," said Uhura. "If anyone finds out anything, comm the rest of us and we'll meet in the Captain's cabin."

"Wait a minute," said Jim. "Why my cabin? I'm not part of this committee."

Uhura looked at him sternly. "We were considerate to leave you out of the committee, Captain, knowing that you have a lot on your plate right now with Admiral Komack, but you do have the largest cabin and we don't all fit in one of ours and we wouldn't want to impose on Mr. Spock's Vulcan privacy taboos by using his.

Jim looked at his command crew. All eyes were riveted on him waiting for his response. He badly needed a drink or five. He sighed. Well…. his Ma didn't raise a fool…better to butt heads and make Admiral Komack angry, then to offend his command crew. He shuddered at the thought of everyone mad at him during Alpha Bridge duty if he refused. He plastered his best shining smile on his face. "Of course, you're all welcome to use my cabin when ever you need to. No problem, I'm also concerned about the baby Tribble and want to help find an answer to Otis' dilemma."

McCoy snorted at this blatant lie, but said nothing as they all stood and left.

Late the next day, Uhura excitedly commed to call a meeting at 1900 hours in Jim's cabin. Jim groaned. He was so tired. He had battled with Komack all day and finally cooler heads had prevailed. To Jim's relief, the mission was canceled by order of the sector chief, but Komack was even more furious with him. Jim had looked forward to a quiet drink, some nice music, and an early night. Now he would have to host The Tribble Troubleshooters. "Life's just not fair," he muttered to himself as he walked to his cabin. "Komack, Tribbles, don't know which I hate the most." All of Alpha crew was waiting for him at his door, and he plastered on yet another fake smile. "Come in everyone."

They crowded in and Uhura patted Spock gently as she stood beside him. "We've found an answer," she told him triumphantly. "Go ahead Scotty, you tell him."

"Thank you Lass, I'm verrry pleased to say that we found an animal that gets along verry well with Tribbles and it is small and friendly, and doesn't eat much and requires little care. The only thing we have to do is put a small compartment in the cage to keep the wee Tribble away from the food. That should be no problem," Scotty said looking downright smug. "I can rig it up blindfolded."

"That is most satisfactory," said Spock, his dark eyes gleaming softly with relief. Mother will be happy, he thought. She has been quite concerned about Otis.

Jim looked at the happy faces in front of him. Kind, he thought, all of them, kind, loving and compassionate. I have the best of the best on board this boat. He cleared his throat at the sudden lump that was lodged there. "What is this paragon of an animal that will keep Otis company?"

Uhura beamed. "It's a white mouse, Captain. A little white mouse. They are docile, don't eat much, and are very social. Also they are intelligent, as mice go," she added. "All our research and my contacts agree it's the best solution."

"That's perfect, Uhura," said Bones. "I've had a lot of experience with white mice, and it's a perfect solution."

And so it was. In very short order, Scotty made a new cage and had it shipped to Vulcan with instructions for Amanda about the food compartment door. Spock bought a white mouse and had it hand delivered to Amanda's door.

The TTs had a final informal meeting at the mess hall. Spock reported on his lengthy comm call with his mother. "My mother says that Otis is doing much better, he is eating again, and his trilling has returned full force. His fur is thick and glossy again and Sarek reports that he is content with his new companion."

Jim smiled. "That's wonderful news Spock. I assume that Sarek had to have a final mind meld with Otis," he said.

"Yes, Jim, my mother insisted just to be sure and all is well."

Jim shook his head bemusedly. His admiration for Amanda had increased ten fold.

"By the way, Mr. Spock, do you know what Lady Amanda named the mouse?" asked McCoy. Six pair of interested eyes looked at Spock expectantly.

"Yes, Doctor, I do know. My mother named him Algernon."2

"Perfect," said Uhura, and everyone smiled.

1 See "The Needs of the Tribble"

2 From "Flowers for Algernon", one of my all time favorite books