He spotted her at last, dancing beside Distant Smoke's cooking fire, alone. Then he caught the flash of a blade and realized she was not dancing but dueling an imaginary opponent. He watched, fascinated. Although he was no judge of knife-to-knife combat, it seemed to him that she was quite good. She was most certainly a pleasure to watch.
And, he noted with amusement, it's nice to know that some... esthetic pleasures are not entirely wasted on Spock. The Vulcan, arms folded, seemed totally absorbed by Wilson's graceful demonstration.
"Now I understand her need for ritual," said a voice beside him. It was Stiff Tail. "It should have occurred to me that a species like your own, so lacking in claws and teeth, would have learned to fight with imitation claws."
"Dr. Wilson is an exception, Stiff Tail," Kirk felt compelled to say. "We're peaceful beings under normal circumstances. That's not a common skill where I come from."
"Nor on Telamon, Captain," Spock said, so pointedly that Kirk could only laugh and repeat his earlier conclusion.
"Pure contrariness, Mr. Spock."
Wilson had replaced the knife in her belt. Now she took up the quarterstaff and set about familiarizing herself with its weight and surface. Once again, without warning, she faced an invisible enemy. She thrust, withdrew- feinted, then thrust from a different angle -
The welter of powerful movements took only a few seconds to complete. Kirk could almost see her opponent go down beneath the onslaught. Triumphant, she rested on her staff, smiling to herself.
She stiffened her back, grimaced; only then did Kirk recall the wounds Fetchstorm had given her. Stiff Tail started toward her; Kirk and Spock followed.
"What is that designed for?" Stiff Tail asked.
Wilson raised the staff but caught herself instantly. "Sorry, Stiff Tail; I live a rich fantasy life. This is for bashing things I wouldn't touch with a ten-foot pole." She had to explain the reference.
Although Spock was as interested as Stiff Tail in the weapon, Kirk had to cut the conversation short. There was one last detail to clear up before they began their Walk, and then he wanted his crew to have the best possible night's sleep in preparation. They left Stiff Tail and the three of them walked toward the shelter.
"I am intrigued," Spock began, as if he were making conversation- a human habit Spock had never acquired- "by your skill at knife combat, Dr. Wilson. Is that a custom on Telamon?"
She gave him a shocked look. "Mr. Spock, someone's been telling you tales about Telamon! Elath, no! That's hardly the sort of thing you'd pick up on Telamon. How to make a public prayer and look down your nose at the fellow who doesn't, perhaps. The knife fighting I learned from a trader on Tangle."
Kirk gestured her through the door to the shelter first. It was more than courtesy. "Enough, Spock," he admonished with a frown. From Spock's expression, that was not the end of it, but Spock said nothing more on the subject as they entered.
Kirk flipped open his communicator and hailed the Enterprise to outline their plans. Scott said, "Ye can't mean it, sir. W'out phasers or communicators!"
"We haven't any choice, Scotty. It's the only way to find out what we need to know. Spock wants to check you out on a simple distress code- but you're not to beam us up unless we specifically request it. I won't have you jumping the gun and pulling us out before we've had a chance to finish the Walk."
"Aye, Captain," he replied grudgingly.
Spock confirmed to his satisfaction that his one-way communication device did work, then instructed them all on the code.
With further reluctance, Scotty beamed up the phasers.
"Captain?" Wilson held out her hand, "Could I speak to him for a moment before you sign off?" He passed the communicator to her. "Hey, laddie," she said.
It was hardly the proper form of address for the acting captain or the chief engineer of the Enterprise, but one would never have known it from his cheerfully returned, "Hey, lassie. Wha' can I do for ye?"
"First, you'll spare me the bottle of Jubalan rum you've got stashed away for emergencies. I declare an emergency- and I'll replace it with something a little better when I get back."
"It w'd have to be an emergency." Scotty sounded shocked. "That stuff's nae fit for drinkin! W'dna ye rather I sent ye somethin' w' a wee more style?"
"Only if it comes in a plastic bottle. I don't know what drugs they'll let me carry, but I'm sure I can get away with alcohol. This is for medicinal purposes, Scotty. Whatever its taste, you'll have to agree Jubalan rum will kill just about anything."
"Aye, that it will. You wait just a minute while I send someone down t' my quarters." The communicator was silent, presumably as Scotty turned away to deliver instructions, then Scotty said, "It'll be w' ye in a moment. What else can I do for ye?"
"Well, I hesitate to ask. It's a bending."
"Try us ennaway, lass. It's not as if we have a lot t' do- seein' how far we can bend a regulation might keep us out o' trouble. Besides, I'm sure the captain'll have a word t' say if it's nae all right."
"I'm sure the captain will," said Kirk, making sure Scotty heard him. "Go ahead, Dr. Wilson."
"If you'd have somebody have a look at Jamie for me, I'd appreciate it. She's got a flux in the Bodner lines that I can't pin down. It's been driving me crazy, and I could use a second opinion."
"Jamie?" said Kirk.
Spock said, "I believe the reference is to the doctor's skiff, the Dr. James Barry, in which Mr. Scott has shown considerable interest." Wilson smiled up at Kirk and, for confirmation, made grabby motions with her free hand.
"Captain?" Scott said, and Kirk could hear eagerness in the question. It might keep him out of trouble at that, and it would certainly keep his morale up. "Be my guest, Mr. Scott," he replied.
Scotty's voice sounded more cheerful again. "I'd be delighted to, lass."
"Elath bless you, lad," said Wilson, grinning, "that's all. Drink me a toast tonight, and I'll talk to you sooner than you think." She started to return the communicator to Kirk, but Scotty's voice said, "Ye canna get away sae easy, Evan. I'll have a promise ye'll take good care."
"By Elath, I promise." In mild protest, she added, "I'm looking for answers, not trouble."
"Then I canna understan' why it finds ye so often...."
Wilson laughed. "Neither can I, Scotty. Here's the captain."
Kirk said, "There's one last thing, Mr. Scott: about Rushlight, the Sivaoan who'll be keeping in contact with you. You may find he calls in just to hear you speak." The communicator made a puzzled noise and Kirk explained, "He likes your brogue. Humor him, will you? He's a bard, and that gives him a lot of status here."
"That gi'es him a lot o' status where I come from too. Dinna ye worry, I'll nae disappoint a bard."
"Thanks, Scotty. Look after the ship for me, will you?"
"Aye, an' ye take care, now. I still dinna like this."
"We'll speak to you soon, Mr. Scott. That's a promise. Kirk out."
"En'rgizing now," said Scott- and in place of their phasers, two bottles of liquor twinkled in. Wilson gave a delighted laugh as Scott said, "T' yer health, sir. Scott out."
"Ah, laddie," said Evan, almost to herself, as she picked up the two bottles, "I think I'll be a Scot in my next incarnation. You're a lovely people." She held out the glass bottle to Kirk and said, "He gave us his best, captain."
"Scotty always does, Doctor." Jim Kirk could see she took that the way he meant it. "I believe this calls for a ceremonial drink. Why don't you round up the rest of the party, Evan, assuming that won't harm a Sivaoan?"
She shook her head. "It won't harm them, but they don't appreciate it. The smell of alcohol to them is like skunk to a human. Even the Eeiauoans used it only for chemistry; you should have heard Leonard grouse. I'll go round up a couple of people who will appreciate Scotty's thoughtfulness, though."
Spock clasped his hands behind his back, his face thoughtful. "There is one other discrepancy, Captain," he began when Wilson was out of earshot. "Upon her arrival to the Enterprise, she docked her skiff in the shuttle bay without need of assistance."
"Scotty didn't have to use the tractor beams to bring her in? That's good piloting."
Spock nodded and finished, "- And yet she professed to know nothing of pulsars."
Evan's question to Sulu, Kirk thought, Just her way of taking some of the pressure off Uhura. She beat me to my diversion. And speaking of diversions! "Mr. Spock," he said, "if you must be suspicious, I suggest you be suspicious of that convenient flux in the Bodner lines."
That startled Spock. "Captain? Am I to understand that you believe Dr. Wilson to have lied about the condition of her vessel?"
"Lied? Lord, no! Scotty'd spot a lie like that in a minute, the way he knows engines. No." Jim Kirk grinned. "But I wouldn't put it past her to have arranged a flux in the Bodner lines. If I know Scotty, he'll give Evan's skiff a complete overhaul while he's waiting to hear from us. That's a lot less time he'll spend worrying- and the doctor couldn't have ordered a better tranquilizer for the acting captain!"
Chapter Thirteen
The dawn sky had an ominous overcast as the party assembled for departure. Spears aslant, bright packs tied to their backs, equally bright improvised sashes to hold their knives in easy reach, they looked like a handful of children hard at make-believe, Kirk thought. We, he corrected; his own sash and spear made him feel like a pirate chieftain. Dignity seemed impossible under the circumstances but, striving for a certain gravity, he called them to order. Brightspot and Jinx snapped to attention with the rest. They're following our "customs," he thought. That may simplify things. "At ease, people," he said aloud. "Brightspot, Jinx, since you know the way to Sretalles, suppose you begin by giving us directions."
Brightspot said, "Mr. Chekov has a- what did you call it?"
"A mep," said Chekov.
"Mep," she repeated dutifully.
"What's this, Mr. Chekov? I thought these people didn't use maps?"
Chekov pulled another brightly colored swatch of cloth from his sash. "They don't ordinarily, sair. I think Distant Smoke inwented the idea for us. And I don't know how accurate it will be."
He unrolled the fabric. It looked more like a work of art than a conventional map, but Kirk could recognize stylized rivers and lakes and well-traveled trails. Here and there were tiny, delicate drawings of plants and what seemed to be water droplets. Chekov indicated one of these last, explaining, "Thet means we will smell water in the air -"
"At least, Jinx and Brightspot will," Kirk said ruefully.
Chekov nodded, went on, "And he traced us two routes, Keptain. This one is easy but, he says, tekes twelve days...."
"And the other?"
"Five, sair, but he warns us it is more dengerous." They all considered the map as Chekov traced first one, then the other.
"Time is what we have the least of, Mr. Chekov," said Kirk.
Jinx and Brightspot stared at the map, still trying to grasp its basic concept. At last, Jinx touched the fabric with a single extended claw. "Sretalles!" she said in sudden comprehension. She retraced the route Chekov had shown them. "I understand!"
"Do you know this route, Jinx?"
She nodded and the fur at the back of her neck rose.
"What would you advise?" he asked.
She fixed her copper-colored eyes on him. "Both ways have killed...." She could not complete the phrase. After a long moment, she said, "Time kills those who wait for your people, does it not? I choose the short route. I...know it well. Perhaps my misfortune will be of some advantage."
"Are we agreed?" The rest nodded, and Kirk continued, "Is there a ceremony for leave-taking, Jinx?" No one had come out to see them off. But for a few wisps of smoke above the tents, the camp would have seemed deserted.
"We go. Nothing more."
"No good-byes?" said Kirk, surprised.
Jinx said, "They hope only for hellos in Sretalles."
"So do I, Jinx," said Kirk fervently, "So do I. Well, let's see how far we can get before we have to contend with the rain as well, shall we? Jinx, since you know the territory, you and I will take point. Spock, Brightspot: bring up the rear. And keep your eyes peeled, people." (Uhura interjected, "He means listen with both ears, Jinx.") "Now let's get this show on the road."
The party moved warily into the forest. High above their heads, the welcome-homes set up a racket, and Jim Kirk smiled briefly. At least they gave a cheerful sort of send-off, he thought and felt a little better.
Leonard McCoy felt like hell. As he rose from the computer console, every muscle in his body screamed a protest. Must try upping the dosage of Wilson-Chapel serum, he thought, see if that does any good.