Kirk nodded; this time his head didn't ache so much. "I agree, Evan. There must be some way to reach these people, but we've got to know more about them to do it. Mr. Spock, your opinion?"
"As your medical condition is satisfactory, I would advise the same. Further study is indicated, and I see no logical alternative."
"All right, then, notify Mr. Scott. And, Spock- this is voluntary. Not everyone is quite as prepared to rough it as we are."
"I shall see to it, Captain. Dr. Wilson?"
"Count me in, Mr. Spock. I have an invitation to join Brightspot in her swagger-lair for the night, pending Stiff Tail's approval, and I'd hate like hell to miss that."
Kirk said, "Swagger-lair?"
"Something like a cross between a tree house and a hammock. From what Brightspot tells me, it sounds like a clever way to get your adolescent out of your tent...Don't worry, you'll get a good look later."
Kirk closed his eyes briefly. The throb in his head was beginning to ease. When he reopened his eyes, Evan Wilson was watching him. He smiled and said, "Tree house, Dr. Wilson? Why, I believe you made your suggestion purely out of self-interest. What do you think, Spock?"
"I have no idea, Captain, but may I point out that Dr. Wilson's 'gut reaction' bears a remarkable resemblance to well-considered logic? Perhaps her expressed desire to spend the night in a tree falls into the same category."
"Perhaps it does, Mr. Spock," said Kirk. He looked at Evan Wilson for her reaction, expecting to find that wicked grin. He was disappointed only as long as it took him to catch on. Evan Wilson deadpanned at Spock, raised a single eyebrow, and said, "A fascinating theory, Mr. Spock, but one based on very little data."
Spock's brow shot up as if in conspiracy. "Indeed, Dr. Wilson...I shall, of course, continue with my observations. With your permission, Captain?"
Kirk said, stunned, "Dismissed." He was still looking at Wilson- and suddenly there was that wicked grin.
She glanced to see that Spock had gone and, still grinning, said, "I think I just got my tail pulled." She shook her head, and the grin was gone, replaced by a more serious mien. "Captain, with your permission, I'd like to let Catchclaw to-Ennien look you over. I'm sure she thinks I'm committing malpractice all over the place."
"And you'd like me to save your reputation," Kirk suggested. "A little more than that. If she looks you over, I can look her over. Sivaoan or not, she's a colleague. And colleagues are sometimes able to discuss things that might ordinarily be left undiscussed. If nothing else, it's professional courtesy."
Kirk understood; it was a very good idea. "I'll vouch for your medical skills, Doctor, and more."
She gave him a look of deep concern and said, "You do realize- I can't guarantee-"
"None of us can, Evan. Do your best."
"All right," she said, and she seemed relieved. "I warn you, Catchclaw will probably want to take you apart to see what makes you tick. I understand these urges; Mr. Spock hits me the same way, and so does Catchclaw. Out of loyalty to my captain, however, I'll stick around and see that she doesn't."
"I would appreciate it, Dr. Wilson," Kirk said, returning her smile. "For all I know, she may be a witch doctor."
"Take care, Captain. Some of my best friends are witch doctors- and I'd be happy to know the local equivalents for digitalis, penicillin, and acupuncture. I never argue with a technique that works just because it wasn't arrived at by scientific method."
"You're right," he said. "Let's hope she knows the proper spells against ADF syndrome."
Uhura, Chekov, and Brightspot waited in a small anxious knot a few yards from Stiff Tail's tent.
"The captain is uninjured," Spock said. He waited out the small storm of emotion his statement produced, then went on, "In order that we may gain the necessary data with which to act, the captain feels it imperative that we remain in camp for an indefinite amount of time. Those wishing to return to the Enterprise will, however, be permitted to do so..."
Lieutenant Uhura said, very softly, "I'd like to stay, Mr. Spock, if it's all right with you."
"Your presence would be greatly appreciated, Lieutenant. Your knowledge of the Old Tongue may be of considerable use." In the presence of Brightspot, Spock did not allude to her knowledge of the Eeiauoans.
"I'll stey, too, sair."
"Thank you, Mr. Chekov. If you will excuse us, Brightspot, we have preparations to make."
"I'll help," said Brightspot. Her eagerness made him hesitate to send her away, but he needed privacy to contact the Enterprise and have the necessary equipment beamed down.
Chekov said, "Mr. Spock? I tek it the keptain wants us to live like these people?"
"For the time being- yes, Mr. Chekov."
"Then perhaps we should build our own shelter, not use one menufactured by supply."
Spock raised an eyebrow. "Your suggestion is a good one, Mr. Chekov. However, we have no materials with which to do so."
"Thet is no problem, sair. Let me take the tricorder and Brightspot"- Brightspot curled her tail approvingly around his wrist and Chekov grinned at her- "and we'll find meterials." He pointed, still entangled, in the general direction of the forest.
"Permission granted, Mr. Chekov. I shall assist you; I should very much like to see what you intend to do." Spock glanced at Uhura. "Lieutenant Uhura will remain here to establish further rapport with the Sivaoans." For the next fifteen minutes or so, Chekov described to Brightspot the types of plants he had in mind. Shortly thereafter, Brightspot called to Distant Smoke, Settlesand, and a female Sivaoan named Left Ear; and Chekov repeated his descriptions with Brightspot adding occasional comment.
"Oh," said Settlesand, "maybe you mean lash-reed and giant's ear?"
"I don't hev the slightest idea," Chekov confessed. "Mr. Spock?"
"I am no more familiar with the local flora than you, Mr. Chekov; nor have I more understanding of your requirements than Brightspot." He turned to Settlesand. "Perhaps if Mr. Chekov were to see a specimen of each -"
"That sounds easiest," said Settlesand, her whiskers arched forward. "Come." She led the way into the forest.
High in the trees, welcome-homes set up a clamor and, without warning, Brightspot began to jump up and down, waving her arms and tail. "Fuzz-brain!" she shouted, "Yah! Fuzz-brain!"
Her attention, Spock saw, was directed up at one of the small shrieking creatures. Her actions were a passable imitation of its own, and they sent the creature into a renewed frenzy. It tore a branch from the tree to emphasize its threats and, when it shook the branch at Brightspot, it showered small hard objects on them all.
Brightspot immediately lost interest in the welcome-home and gathered up the objects.
"Tail-kinkers," Settlesand told Spock, "a spice we use for our food. Some people like to chew on them." Brightspot and Chekov subjected them to the scrutiny of Chekov's tricorder and shortly pronounced them safe for both human and Vulcan. Spock accepted one and examined it thoughtfully. It was about the size of a ball bearing, almost as hard, and a dark shiny green in color. Spock recalled the human proverb- "When in Rome..."- and cautiously tasted it. To his surprise, it had a very sharp but distinctly pleasant flavor.
Chekov, taking his cue from Spock, also put one in his mouth. He bit down- and gasped. "Bozhe moi!" he said, hardly able to get the words out. His eyes streamed tears.
Spock had never seen a toxin take effect so quickly, nor one that did not register on the tricorder. "Dr. Wilson!" he said and turned to race back to the camp for medical assistance.
"Mr. Spock, no!" Chekov spoke between gulps of air. "It's not- necessary, sair. Hhhot!" He aspirated the h with great passion. "Spicy hot! I just- wasn't- prepared!" He wiped at his eyes and took a few more gulps of air.
Spock watched him warily. He knew the human sense of taste was more sensitive than his own but he had never before seen such a graphic demonstration of the phenomenon.
Chekov saw his concern. He wiped his eyes again, drew himself together and said, "I heven't been poisoned, Mr. Spock. I hev eaten peppers hotter then this. I hev no need of a doctor." He sniffed loudly and said to Brightspot with a rueful grin, "You should hev warned me."
"I'm sorry." This was from Left Ear. "I didn't think it would have so strong an effect. The children often hide whole tail-kinkers in each other's food for the joke- and Brightspot really does chew them all the time."
"'Tail-kinkers,'" said Chekov. "Well, if I hed a tail, it would hev a kink by now!"
"Not angry?" said Brightspot. Her tail bristled with concern.
Chekov shook his head. "Not angry. This is not the only world where I hev hed such a joke played on me."
Brightspot seemed relieved.
Spock knew he was. "It would appear," he said, "that the Sivaoan and human concepts of humor are similar in nature. I doubt that I shall ever grasp either. However, if you are quite recovered, Mr. Chekov, let us proceed."
Captain James T. Kirk was beginning to develop a great sympathy for guinea pigs, and he was forced to remind himself that for once the guinea pig was learning as much as the doctor.
Catchclaw had begun by examining him with her own instruments. More than anything he'd seen so far, those instruments told him there was nothing primitive about this society. Functionally, they seemed identical to the Federation-designed tricorder and sensors that Bones used; but there was nothing functional about their design- nothing purely functional about their design, he corrected himself. As much effort had been expended to make them beautiful as to make them useful.
Catchclaw turned her instruments on Evan Wilson for comparison; Jinx watched in silence but did not miss a thing. Evan offered her the use of her own sensors; Catchclaw accepted and, again, compared Wilson to him.
Like Wilson, however, Catchclaw seemed unsatisfied to trust the instruments- hers or Federation-issue. Having asked Kirk's permission to touch him, she ran through the same set of manual tests that Wilson had so recently performed on him. Clearly, the indications for concussion were very similar between human and Sivaoan.
"No tail," said Catchclaw to Jinx. It was a complaint; in fact, her manner reminded Kirk very much of Bones's usual reaction to Vulcan physiology. Catchclaw glared at Evan Wilson and said, "Where the"- the universal translator failed miserably, producing a McCoy-like sputter- "do I find his pulse?"
Wilson pushed back her sleeve and demonstrated. After a moment, Catchclaw verified that she could find Kirk's pulse as well. Then she sat back and grunted, her tail twitching. "You seem fine, but what do I know?"
"He is fine," said Wilson, "and I do know."
Catchclaw grunted at her again and began to thrust her instruments back into her belt. "In any case, the blow did knock him unconscious. I recommend rest and continued observation."
In the interest of Wilson's reputation, Kirk said, "Yes, that's exactly what Dr. Wilson recommended."
Catchclaw rose. Staring down at Wilson, she repeated, "Doctor... Where are your children?"
Wilson said, "Human females develop breasts at puberty and keep them even when they're not nursing children. One child at a time being the usual, only two breasts at that." She gave a slight nod of acknowledgment at Catchclaw's own eight, and Catchclaw's tail spiraled her amusement.
"I see," Catchclaw said. "Jinx, you'll stay here. Call me if there's any change." At the tent flap, she gave one last look at Kirk, at Wilson; her tail flicked once, then she made a kind of chuffing sound and said with unmistakable exasperation, "Stiff Tail!"
Evan Wilson sighed - a long, drawn-out sigh of disappointment- then she turned to Jinx to-Ennien and said, "Well. And just where would I find your pulse?"
With any luck, thought Kirk, they'll be so busy prodding each other they won't have time for me!
Lieutenant Uhura had no idea how to carry out Mr. Spock's order to establish further rapport with the Sivaoans.
To come all this way and not be able to get help! she thought. To find the world had been a miracle itself, but it was not miracle enough and she knew it. She sat on a small camp stool near the cooking fire, watching the Sivaoans as they went about the every-day business of living, and thought of Sunfall of Ennien, dying. Surely these people could not deny her help, surely they couldn't be so cruel!
Without conscious thought, she reached into her utility pouch and withdrew the Charellian joyeuse. In a way, it was Mr. Spock's doing that she had brought it- and Sunfall's picture. Readying herself for the landing party, she had deliberately chosen these non-regulation items for luck, because it was something Mr. Spock couldn't do. Perhaps even the captain couldn't have- but she could and she did. Mr. Spock would certainly have raised an eyebrow at that, but she knew in his own way he would approve.