Original subtitles

Deep Space Station K-7 now within sensor range, captain.

Good.

Mr. Chekov, this flight is supposed to provide experience and knowledge.

How close will we come to the Klingon outpost

if we continue on our present course?

One parsec, sir. Close enough to smell them.

That is illogical, ensign.

Odours cannot travel through the vacuum of space.

- I was making a little joke, sir. - Extremely little, ensign.

Mr. Spock, immediate past history of the quadrant.

Under dispute between the two parties since initial contact.

The battle of Donatu V was fought near here

23 solar years ago. Inconclusive.

- Analysis of disputed area. - Undeveloped.

Sherman's Planet is claimed by both sides,

our Federation and the Klingon Empire.

We do have the better claim.

The area was first mapped

by the famous Russian astronomer, lvan Burkoff, almost 200...

- John Burke. - Burke, sir?

I don't think so. I'm sure it was...

John Burke was the chief astronomer

at the Royal Academy in Old Britain at the time.

Royal Academy, oh, well.

Is the rest of your history that faulty, ensign?

Key points of dispute.

Under the terms of the Organian Peace Treaty,

one side or the other must prove it can develop the planet most efficiently.

And unfortunately, though the Klingons are brutal and aggressive,

they are most efficient.

I remember once Peter the Great had a problem like that. He...

- Captain. - Kirk here.

Captain, I'm picking up a subspace distress call, priority channel.

- It's from Space Station K-7. - Go to warp factor 6.

Code 1 emergency, that's a disaster call.

This is a red alert. Man your battle stations. All hands.

Space, the final frontier.

These are the voyages of the starship Enterprise.

Its five-year mission: To explore strange new worlds,

to seek out new life and new civilisations,

to boldly go where no man has gone before.

Captain's log, stardate 4523.3.

Deep Space Station K-7 has issued a priority- 1 call.

More than an emergency, it signals near or total disaster.

We can only assume the Klingons have attacked the station.

We're going in, armed for battle.

Main phasers armed and ready, sir.

But there's nothing there.

Just the station.

Priority-1 distress call. It's just absolutely peaceful.

Lieutenant Uhura, break subspace silence.

Aye, sir. Channel's open, sir.

Space Station K-7, this is Captain Kirk of the Enterprise.

What is your emergency?

Captain Kirk, this is Mr. Lurry, manager of K-7.

I must apologise for the distress call.

Mr. Lurry, you issued a priority-1 distress call.

State the nature of your emergency.

Well, perhaps you better beam over. I'll try to explain.

You'll try to explain?

You'd better be prepared to do more than that. Kirk out.

Mr. Spock, I'll need your help. Chekov, maintain battle readiness.

Lieutenant Uhura, see that the Transporter Room is standing by.

Aye, sir. Transporter Room, stand by.

Mr. Lurry, if there was no emergency,

why did you issue a priority-1 distress call?

That was my order, captain.

Captain Kirk, this is Nilz Baris. He's out from Earth to take charge

of the development for Sherman's Planet.

And that gives you the authority to put an entire quadrant on defence alert?

Mr. Baris is the Federation undersecretary

in charge of agricultural affairs in this quadrant.

And that gives him the authority.

This is my assistant, Arne Darvin.

- And this is my first officer, Mr. Spock. - Mr. Spock.

And now, captain, I want all available security guards.

I want them posted around the storage compartments.

Storage compartments? Storage compartments?

The storage compartments containing the quadrotriticale.

The what? The what? What's quadrotriticale?

Here.

Wheat. So what?

Quadrotriticale is not wheat, captain.

Of course, I wouldn't expect you or Mr. Spock to know about such things,

but quadrotriticale is a rather...

Quadrotriticale is a high-yield grain,

a four-lobed hybrid of wheat and rye.

A perennial, also, if I'm not mistaken.

Its root grain, triticale, can trace its ancestry

all the way back to 20th-century Canada, where...

Mr. Spock, you've made your point.

Quadrotriticale is the only Earth grain that will grow on Sherman's Planet.

Now, we have several tons of it here on the station

and it's very important that that grain get to Sherman's Planet safely.

Mr. Baris thinks that Klingon agents may try to sabotage it.

You issued a priority-1 distress call for a couple of tons of wheat?

Quadrotriticale.

Of course, captain, I realise that we...

Mr. Baris, you summoned the Enterprise without an emergency.

- You'll take full responsibility for it. - What do you mean?

Misuse of the priority-1 channel is a Federation offence.

I did not misuse the priority-1 channel.

I want that grain protected.

Captain, couldn't you at least post a couple of guards?

We do have a large number of ships passing through.

It would seem a logical precaution, captain.

The Sherman's Planet affair is of extreme importance to the Federation.

- Kirk to Enterprise. - Enterprise here.

Secure from general quarters...

...and beam down two, and only two, security guards.

Have them report to Mr. Lurry.

Authorise shore leave for all off-duty personnel.

- Yes, captain. - Kirk out.

Captain Kirk, how dare you authorise a mere two men

for a project of this importance!

Starfleet Command will hear about this...

I have never questioned the orders or the intelligence

of any representative of the Federation.

Until now.

Summoning a starship on a priority A-1 channel

to guard some storage compartments.

Storage compartments of wheat.

Nevertheless, captain, the Klingons would not enjoy seeing us

successfully develop Sherman's Planet.

I guess not.

I see you didn't waste any time taking your shore leave.

And how often do I get shore leave?

She wants to shop, and I thought I would help her.

Excuse me. Excuse me.

Mr. Chekov, what do you make of this?

Oh, quadrotriticale.

I've read about this, but I've never seen any before.

Does everybody know about this wheat but me?

Well, not everyone, captain. It's a Russian invention.

I don't want any, I told you before, and I'm telling you again.

I don't want any more Spican flame gems.

Thanks to you, I already have enough Spican flame gems

- to last me a lifetime. - How sad for you, my friend.

You won't find a finer stone anywhere. But I have something better.

Surely you want some...

...Antarian glow water.

- I use that to polish the flame gems. - You're a difficult man to reach.

But I have something from the far reaches of the galaxy.

- Surely you want... - Not at your price.

Oh, what is it? Is it alive?

May I hold it?

Oh, it's adorable. What is it?

What is it? Why, lovely lady, it's a tribble.

A tribble?

Only the sweetest creature known to man.

Excepting, of course, your lovely self.

Oh, it's purring.

Listen, it's purring.

It's only saying that it likes you.

Are you selling them?

That's what we're trying to decide right now.

My friend, 10 credits apiece is a very reasonable price.

Now, you can see for yourself

how much the lovely little lady appreciates the finer things.

- One credit apiece. - He won't bite, will he?

Sir, transporting harmful animals from one planet to another

is against regulations, or weren't you aware of that?

Besides, tribbles have no teeth.

All right, I'll double my offer. Two credits.

Twice nothing is still nothing.

Well, if you're not gonna take him, I'm gonna take him. I think he's cute.

- Four credits. - Is that an offer or a joke?

- That's my offer. - That's a joke.

Five.

I can see you're an honest man. I'll tell you what I'm going to do.

I'm going to lessen my price to 8 and a half credits.

You're talking yourself out of a deal, friend.

- Six credits, not a credit more. - Seven and a half.

Seven?

All right, you robber, 6 credits.

- Done. When can I have them? - Right away.

All right, what are you selling them for?

Well, let me see, little lady. It's 6 credits.

I figure a reasonable mark-up for a reasonable profit,

say, a 10 percent mark-up. Ten credits.

- Thief. - In fact, I'll sell you this one.

Hey! He's eating my grain.

That'll be 10 credits.

That happens to be my sample, and I'll do with it as I please.

And I please to give it to the lovely little lady here.

- Oh, I couldn't, could I? - I insist.

What are you trying to do, ruin the market?

Once this lovely little lady starts to show this precious little darling around,

you won't be able to keep up with them.

Yes, what is it?

Message from Starfleet, captain, priority channel.

- Admiral Fitzpatrick speaking. - Put it on visual, lieutenant.

- Captain Kirk. - Kirk here.

Captain, it is not necessary to remind you

of the importance to the Federation of Sherman's Planet.

The key to our winning of this planet is the grain, quadrotriticale.

The shipment of it must be protected.

Effective immediately, you will render any aid and assistance

which Undersecretary Baris may require.

The safety of the grain and the project is your responsibility.

Starfleet out.

Well, that's just lovely.

But not totally unexpected.

- Captain Kirk. Captain Kirk. - Yes, lieutenant, what is it?

Sensors are picking up a Klingon battle cruiser

rapidly closing on the station.

Go to red alert, notify Mr. Lurry, we'll be right up.

What is the position of the Klingon ship?

A hundred kilometres off K-7. It's just sitting there.

- Captain, I have Mr. Lurry. - Put him on visual.

Aye, sir.

Mr. Lurry, there's a Klingon warship hanging 100 kilometres off your station.

I don't think the Klingons are planning to attack us.

Why not?

Because at this moment, the captain of the Klingon ship

is sitting right here in my office.

Cancel red alert. We'll beam right down.

Security, cancel red alert.

Captain's log, stardate 4524.2.

A Klingon warship is hovering only 100 kilometres

from Deep Space Station K-7

while its captain waits in the station manager's office.

Their intentions are unknown.

- My dear Captain Kirk. - My dear Captain Koloth.

Let me assure you that my intentions are peaceful.

As I've already told Mr. Lurry,

the purpose of my presence here is to invoke shore-leave rights.

Shore leave?

Captain, we Klingons are not as luxury-minded as you Earthers.

We do not equip our ships with, how shall I say it?

Non-essentials.

We have been in space for five months

and what we choose as recreation is our own business.

I might also add that under the terms of the Organian Peace Treaty,

you cannot refuse us.

Yes, well, I don't make those decisions.

Mr. Lurry is in charge of those matters.

Captain, may I speak to you a minute?

Kirk, I don't want them here, but I don't have the authority to refuse.

Well, I have the authority to act, and I'm gonna use it.

My dear Captain Koloth,

you may indeed bring your men down on shore leave.

But only 12 at a time,

and I assure you that for every man you bring down here,

I shall have one security guard. There'll be no trouble.

Captain Kirk, there's been no formal declaration of hostilities

between our two respective governments.

So naturally, our relationship will be a peaceful one.

Let us both take steps to keep it that way.

Of course.

- Another technical journal, Scotty? - Aye.

- Don't you ever relax? - I am relaxing.

How long have you had that thing, lieutenant?

Since yesterday, doctor.

This morning I found out that he... I mean, she had had babies.

Well, I'd say in that case you got a bargain.

- You running a nursery, lieutenant? - Oh, captain.

Well, I hadn't intended to, sir, but the tribble had other plans.

- Did you get this at the space station? - Yes, sir.

A most curious creature, captain.

Its trilling seems to have a tranquilizing effect

on the human nervous system.

Fortunately, of course, I am immune to its effect.

Do you mind if I take one of these to the lab to see what makes it tick?

Well, all right, doctor, but if you're gonna dissect it,

I don't want to know about it.

I won't harm a hair on its head, wherever that is.

Say, lieutenant, seeing as you're giving them away, can I have one?

Sure, why not? I think they're old enough.

Go ahead.

Bridge to Captain Kirk.

Kirk here.

Mr. Baris is waiting on channel A to speak to you, sir.

Pipe it down here, will you, Mr. Chekov?

Aye, sir. Mr. Baris is coming on.

Yes, Mr. Baris, what can I do for you?

Kirk, this station is swarming with Klingons.

I was not aware, Mr. Baris, that 12 Klingons constitutes a swarm.

Captain Kirk, there are Klingon soldiers on this station.

Now, I want you to keep that grain safe.

Mr. Baris, I have guards around the grain,

I have guards around the Klingons.

The only reason those guards are there is because Starfleet wants them there.

As for what you want...

...it has been noted and logged. Kirk out.

Captain, may I ask where you'll be?

Sickbay, with a headache.

Hi, Jim.

Bones, what have you got for a headache?

Let me guess, the Klingons. Baris.

Both.

Hey, how many of these did Uhura give you?

- Just one. - But you've got 11.

You noticed that, huh?

Here, this ought to take care of it.

How do they? How do they?

I haven't figured that out yet.

But I can tell you this much.

Almost 50 percent of the creature's metabolism is geared for reproduction.

Do you know what you get if you feed a tribble too much?

A fat tribble.

No, you get a whole bunch of hungry little tribbles.

Well, Bones, all I can suggest...

...is you open up a maternity ward.

I want all you men who are going on shore leave to stay in groups.

- Avoid trouble with the Klingons. - I'll tell them before they go, sir.

Aren't you going on shore leave, Scotty?

- Oh, no, sir. - I want you to go on shore leave.

Make sure that everybody stays out of trouble.

But, captain...

Aye, sir.

Scotty, enjoy yourself.

Friend, can I offer you a charming little tribble?

- No, thanks. - Perhaps one of you other gents?

Friend Klingon! Can I interest you in a harmless little tribble?

Get it away from me.

I'm sorry, I can't understand it.

I've never seen them act this way before.

Get out of here with that parasite.

- He's only a harmless little... - Take it away!

Yes.

My good friend!

How would you like to enter another little transaction?

- This time, a tribble for a spot of... - A tribble?

Tribble?

Tribble.

When are you going to get off that milk diet, lad?

This is vodka.

Where I come from, that's soda pop. Now, this is a drink for a man.

- Scotch? - Aye.

It was invented by a little old lady from Leningrad.

The Earthers like those fuzzy things, don't they?

Why, yes.

Well, frankly, I never liked Earthers.

They remind me of Regulan blood worms.

- That does it. - Easy, lad.

You ought to be more forgiving.

I just remembered.

There is one Earth man who doesn't remind me of a Regulan blood worm.

That's Kirk.

A Regulan blood worm is soft and shapeless.

But Kirk isn't soft.

Kirk may be a swaggering, overbearing,

tin-plated dictator with delusions of godhood...

...but he's not soft.

Take it easy, lad.

Everybody's entitled to an opinion.

That's right.

And if I think that Kirk

is a Denebian slime devil,

well, that's my opinion too.

Don't do it, mister, and that's an order.

But you heard what he called the captain.

Forget it. It's not worth fighting for.

We're big enough to take a few insults.

Now drink your drink.

Of course, I'd say that Captain Kirk deserves his ship.

We like the Enterprise.

We really do.

That sagging old rust bucket is designed like a garbage scow.

Half the quadrant knows it.

That's why they're learning to speak Klingonee!

Mr. Scott.

Laddie, don't you think you should rephrase that?

You're right, I should.

I didn't mean to say that the Enterprise should be hauling garbage.

I meant to say that it should be hauled away as garbage.

Captain's log, stardate 4525.6.

A small disturbance between the Klingon crew

and members of the Enterprise crew

has broken out aboard Space Station K-7.

I am forced to cancel shore leave for both ships.

I want to know who started it. I'm waiting.

Freeman, who started the fight?

- I don't know, sir. - All right.

Chekov.

I know you. You started it, didn't you?

- No, sir, I didn't. - Well, who did?

- I don't know, sir. - "I don't know, sir."

I want to know who threw the first punch.

You're all confined to quarters until I find out who started it.

Dismissed.

Scotty, not you.

You were supposed to prevent trouble, Mr. Scott.

Aye, captain.

Who threw the first punch, Scotty?

Scotty?

- I did, captain. - You did, Mr. Scott?

- What caused it, Scotty? - They insulted us, sir.

- Must have been some insult. - Aye, it was.

- You threw the first punch. - Aye.

Chekov wanted to, but I held him back.

You held..?

Why did Chekov want to start a fight?

Well, the Klingons... Is this off the record?

No, this is not off the record.

Well, captain, Klingons called you...

...a tin-plated, overbearing, swaggering dictator

- with delusions of godhood. - Is that all?

No, sir, they also compared you with a Denebian slime devil.

- I see. - And then they said that...

- I get the picture, Scotty. - Yes, sir.

And after they said all this, that's when you hit the Klingons?

- No, sir. - No?

No, I didn't.

You told us to avoid trouble.

Oh, yes.

And I didn't see that it was worth fighting about.

After all, we're big enough to take a few insults.

Aren't we?

What was it they said that started the fight?

They called the Enterprise a garbage scow!

Sir.

I see.

And that's when you hit the Klingon.

Yes, sir.

You hit the Klingons because they insulted the Enterprise,

not because they?

Well, sir, this was a matter of pride.

All right, Scotty. Dismissed.

Scotty, you're restricted to quarters until further notice.

Yes, sir.

Thank you, sir.

That'll give me a chance to catch up on my technical journals.

What's the matter, Spock?

There's something disquieting about these creatures.

- Don't tell me you've got a feeling. - Don't be insulting, doctor.

They remind me of the lilies of the field.

"They toil not, neither do they spin." But they seem to eat a great deal.

I see no practical use for them.

Does everything have to have a practical use for you?

They're nice, they're soft, and they're furry,

and they make a pleasant sound.

So would an ermine violin, doctor, but I see no advantage in having one.

It is a human characteristic to love little animals,

especially if they're attractive in some way.

Doctor, I am well aware of human characteristics,

I am frequently inundated by them,

but I have trained myself to put up with practically anything.

Spock, I don't know too much about these little tribbles yet

but there is one thing that I have discovered.

- What is that, doctor? - I like them.

Better than I like you.

- Doctor. - Yes?

They do, indeed, have one redeeming characteristic.

- What's that? - They do not talk too much.

If you'll excuse me, sir.

Dr. McCoy, would you mind coming up to the Bridge?

Lieutenant Uhura, how did all these tribbles get on the Bridge?

I don't know, sir. They do seem to be all over the ship.

- Dr. McCoy. - Yes? Did you want to see me, Jim?

Well, don't look at me, it's the tribbles who are breeding.

And if we don't get them off this ship, we'll be hip deep in them.

Would you explain that?

Well, the nearest thing I can figure out is that they're born pregnant.

Which seems to be quite a time saver.

I know, but really...

And from my observations,

it seems they're bisexual, reproducing at will.

And, brother, have they got a lot of will.

Captain, I am forced to agree with the doctor.

I've been running computations on their rate of reproduction.

The figures are taking an alarming direction.

They are consuming our supplies and returning nothing.

But they do give us something, Mr. Spock, they give us love.

Well, Cyrano Jones says that a tribble is the only love that money can buy.

Too much of anything, lieutenant, even love,

isn't necessarily a good thing.

Yes, captain.

Get a maintenance crew to clean up the entire ship.

And then contact Mr. Lurry and tell him I'm beaming down.

Aye, aye, sir.

Have him find Cyrano Jones and hold him.

And get these tribbles off the Bridge.

Aye, aye, captain.

Captain Kirk, I'm mystified at your tone of voice.

I've done nothing to warrant such severe treatment.

Oh, really?

Surely you must have realised what would happen

if you removed the tribbles from their predator-filled environment

into an environment where their natural multiplicative proclivities

would have no restraining factors.

Well, of cour... What did you say?

By removing the tribbles from their natural habitat,

you have, so to speak, removed the cork from the bottle

and allowed the genie to escape.

Well, if by that you mean, do they breed quickly?

Well, of course, that's how I maintain my stock.

But breeding animals is not against regulations,

only breeding dangerous ones.

- And tribbles are not dangerous. - Just incredibly prolific.

Precisely. And at 6 credits a head...

Well, that is, a body... it mounts up.

Now, if you'll excuse me.

You ought to sell an instruction and maintenance manual with this thing.

If I did, what would happen to man's search for knowledge?

Well, I must be tending my ship.

Go ahead, sir, tell him.

Captain Kirk, I consider your security measures a disgrace.

In my opinion, you have taken this entire very important project too lightly.

On the contrary, sir, I think of this project as very important.

It is you I take lightly.

I am going to report fully, to the proper authorities,

that you have given free and complete access to this station

to a man who is quite probably a Klingon agent.

That's a very serious charge. To whom are you referring?

To that man who just walked out of here.

Cyrano Jones? A Klingon agent?

- You heard me. - I heard you.

He simply could not believe his ears.

What evidence do you have against Mr. Jones?

My assistant here has kept Mr. Jones

under close surveillance for quite some time,

and his actions have been most suspicious.

I believe he was involved in that little altercation between your men...

Yes, yes, go on. What else do you have?

Well, captain, I checked his ship's log

and it seems that he was within the Klingons' sphere of influence

less than four months ago.

The man is an independent scout, captain.

It's quite possible that he is also a Klingon spy.

We have already checked on the background of Mr. Cyrano Jones.

He is a licensed asteroid locator and prospector.

He's never broken the law, at least not severely,

and for the past seven years, with his one-man spaceship,

he has obtained a marginal living by engaging in the buying and selling

of rare merchandise, including, unfortunately, tribbles.

- But he is after my grain! - Do you have any proof of that?

You can't deny he's disrupted this station.

People have disrupted stations before without being Klingon agents.

Sometimes all they need is a title, Mr. Baris.

Unfortunately, disrupting a space station is not an offence.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a ship to tend to.

My chicken sandwich and coffee.

This is my chicken sandwich and coffee.

Fascinating.

I want these things off the ship.

I don't care if it takes every man, I want them off the ship.

Aye, they're into the machinery, all right.

And they're probably in all the other food processors too.

- How? - Probably through one of the air vents.

Captain, there are vents of that type on the space station.

And in the storage compartments.

This is Kirk. Contact Manager Lurry and Nilz Baris.

Have them meet us near the storage compartments. We're beaming down.

Come on, Spock.

Energize.

What's wrong?

Plenty, if what I think happened has happened.

- Guard, is that door secure? - Yes, sir, nothing could get in.

Good. Open it.

It's not working, sir. It seems to be stuck.

Here, let me try.

They seem to be gorged.

Gorged? On my grain?

Kirk, I am going to hold you responsible.

- There must be thousands of them. - Hundreds of thousands.

1,771,561.

That's assuming one tribble, multiplying with an average litter of ten,

producing a new generation every 12 hours, over a period of three days.

And that's assuming that they got here three days ago.

And allowing for the amount of grain consumed

and the volume of the storage compartment.

Kirk, you should have known!

You are responsible for turning the development project

into a total disaster!

- Mr. Baris... - And I am through being intimidated.

Now, you have insulted me, you have ignored me,

you've walked all over me!

You have abused your authority, and you have rejected my requests.

And this! This is the result.

I am going to hold you responsible, Kirk.

Mr. Baris, I'll hold you in irons if you don't shut up.

Jim, I think I've got it.

All we have to do is quit feeding them.

We quit feeding them, they stop breeding.

Now he tells me.

Captain, this tribble is dead.

And so are these.

A lot of them are dead.

A lot of them are alive, but they won't be for long.

A logical assumption is that there is something in the grain.

Yes. Bones, I want the tribbles, the grain, everything analysed.

I wanna know what killed these tribbles.

I haven't figured out what keeps them alive yet.

All right, if I find out anything, I'll let you know.

That isn't gonna do you any good, Kirk.

This project is ruined, and Starfleet is gonna hear about it.

And when they do, they will have a board of enquiry

and they will roast you alive.

And I am gonna be there, Kirk, to enjoy every minute of it.

Until that board of enquiry, I'm still the captain.

And as captain, I want two things done.

First, find Cyrano Jones, and second...

...close that door.

Really, Captain Kirk, I must protest this treatment!

Mr. Jones, with an armful.

- A few questions. - Captain Kirk!

Yes, what do you want?

An official apology, addressed to the Klingon High Command.

I expect you to assume full responsibility

for the persecution of Klingon nationals in this quadrant.

An apology?

Yes. You've harassed my men. You've treated them like criminals.

You've been most uncourteous, Captain Kirk.

Now, if you wish to avoid a diplomatic incident...

No, Kirk, you can't let him.

That will give them the wedge they need to claim Sherman's Planet.

I believe that more than the word of an aggrieved Klingon commander

would be necessary for that, Mr. Baris.

Mr. Spock, as far as Sherman's Planet is concerned,

Captain Kirk has already given it to us.

Well, we'll see about that.

But before I take any official action, I'd like to know just what happened.

Who put the tribbles in the quadrotriticale,

and what was in the grain that killed them?

Captain Kirk, before you go on, may I make a request?

Yes.

Can you get those things out of here?

- Remarkable. - Hold on a minute.

I thought you said tribbles liked everybody.

Well, they do. I can't understand it.

The last time I saw one act this way was at the bar.

- What was in the bar? - Klingons. Him, for one.

You're right, Mr. Jones. They don't like Klingons.

But they do like Vulcans.

Why, Mr. Spock, I didn't know you had it in you.

Obviously, tribbles are very perceptive creatures, captain.

Obviously.

Mr. Baris, they like you.

Well, there's no accounting for taste.

They don't like you, Mr. Darvin. I wonder why.

Bones?

Heartbeat is all wrong.

His body temperature is...

Jim, this man is a Klingon.

A Klingon?

I wonder what Starfleet Command will say about that.

What about the grain, Bones?

- Oh, yes. It was poisoned. - Poisoned?

Yes, it's been impregnated with a virus.

The virus turns into an inert material in the bloodstream,

and the more the organism eats, the more inert matter is built up.

So after two or three days it would reach a point

where they couldn't take in enough nourishment to survive.

They starved to death.

In a storage compartment full of grain, they starved to death.

That is essentially it.

- Mr. Darvin, you want to talk? - I have nothing to say.

All right! I poisoned the grain, take them away.

- The tribbles had nothing to do with it? - I don't know, I never saw one before,

and I hope I never see one of those fuzzy, miserable things again.

I'm certain that can be arranged, Darvin.

Guards.

If you'll excuse me, captain.

Captain Koloth, about that apology.

Yes?

You have six hours to get your ship out of Federation territory.

Hey, you know, I think I could learn to like tribbles.

Well, captain, I suppose I'm free to go now.

No, you're not. There's something I want to show you.

Do you know what the penalty is

for transporting an animal proven harmful to human life?

Captain, one little tribble isn't harmful.

Captain, you wouldn't do a thing like that to me, now, would you?

Would you?

The penalty is 20 years in a rehabilitation colony.

Captain Kirk... Friend! Friend Kirk.

Surely we can come to some sort of mutual understanding.

After all, my tribbles did put you wise to the poisoned grain

and they did help you to find the Klingon agent.

We saved a lot of lives that way.

- There is one thing you can do. - Yes.

Pick up every tribble on the space station.

If you do that, I'll speak to Mr. Lurry about returning your spaceship.

It would take years.

Seventeen-point-nine, to be exact.

Seventeen-point-nine years?

Consider it job security.

Captain, you're a hard man. All right, all right!

- You'll do it? - He'll do it.

I'll do it.

Captain, Starfleet was able to divert that freighter.

Good, that means Sherman's Planet will get its quadrotriticale

only a few weeks late.

I don't see any tribbles around here.

And you won't find a tribble on this entire ship.

Bones, how'd you do that?

Well, I cannot take credit for another man's work.

- Scotty did it. - Scotty!

Where are the tribbles?

Captain, it was really Mr. Spock's recommendation.

Of course. Spock?

Based on computer analysis, of course,

taking into account the possibilities of...

Gentlemen, I don't want to interrupt this mutual-admiration society,

but I'd like to know where the tribbles are.

Tell him, Spock.

Well, it was Mr. Scott who performed the actual engineering.

Mr. Scott.

Where are the tribbles?

I used the transporter, captain.

- You used the transporter? - Aye.

Well, where did you transport them?

Scott, you didn't transport them into space, did you?

Captain Kirk, that would be inhuman!

- Well, where are they? - I gave them a very good home.

- Where? - I gave them to the Klingons, sir.

- You gave them to the Klingons? - Aye, sir.

Before they went into warp,

I transported the whole kit and caboodle to their Engine Room,

where they'll be no tribble at all.