Pessimistically, he assumed that it wouldn't. All the serum did was slow the progress of ADF. It did not halt it. Nor did it work in every case: two more humanoids had died. As Micky had been quick to point out, this was always a possibility- and both had been in what, for humans and humanoids, was the terminal stage of ADF syndrome. Christine Chapel was still holding her own, which was no small comfort to McCoy.
And to add to his relief, the morning brought no new cases among the volunteers at high risk; as of today, the preventive regime still seemed to be working. Tomorrow might be different, but he held on to the hope from day to day.
What disturbed him now were two reports from Starfleet Medical Command of humans who had died within five days of contracting ADF. Both victims had the same HLA factors. It was an indication that some people had a genetic predisposition to react more quickly and more violently to the disease. Micky had immediately checked the medical records of everyone on her staff. Luckily, no one had the risky HLA factor. McCoy passed the word to Starfleet to do the same with anyone working in close proximity with victims of the disease. They were to be isolated from the wards and given high dosages of Wilson-Chapel serum. Those in the general population who had the same factor would also be given the preventive treatment; he hoped it would give them time.
McCoy found himself mentally running through the medical records of the Enterprise personnel: Jim, Scotty, Uhura, Sulu, all of them were safe. He had no way of knowing about Spock: that human-Vulcan mishmash of his was always a problem, medically speaking. As for Wilson, he didn't know offhand; he'd have to check her -
Chekov! That was what he had been trying to pin down. Pavel Chekov was in the high-risk category! McCoy slammed his hand angrily against the console. There was no way to warn the Enterprise about the wildfire version of ADF. He didn't even know if any of the crew had contracted the disease. He was suddenly furious with Jim for having taken off like that, where he couldn't keep at least half an eye on his friends.
He caught himself. Maybe Chekov is safer there, he reminded himself, wherever they are.
The adrenalin shot of anger momentarily pushed the pain from his muscles. Perhaps, he thought, if people with a certain HLA factor are a higher risk than the rest of the population, then some other HLA factor might offer some protection. If he sorted the victims by HLA factor and by severity of disease he might find a new angle of attack. He sat down and once more threw himself into the work.
Jim Kirk pushed through a tangle of thick vines and found himself wishing for a machete. The party had been climbing slowly but steadily for the past two hours and the undergrowth was thick enough to make every step an effort. At least the rain seemed to have bypassed them. That was one small point in their favor.
Against them, however, was their ignorance of the local flora and fauna. It made the members of the Enterprise crew twice as tense and twice as wary as the Sivaoans. They started at sounds that Brightspot and Jinx took as a matter of course. That level of tension, Kirk knew, could not be sustained for long periods of time without exhausting them on a physical and mental level. He found himself watching Jinx and taking his cue from her reactions.
With the shaft of his spear, he pried aside a tangle of vines to let Uhura and Chekov through. Surprised at Uhura's endurance, he remembered with effort that she had gone through the same survival training at Starfleet Academy as the rest of them. It's that she seems so quiet, so gentle, he thought. She's not the kind of person you find in a barroom brawl on shore leave.
Chekov stumbled; Kirk caught his arm and was shocked to find his face so drawn. "Are you all right, Mr. Chekov?"
"Fine, sair," said Chekov, working his way through the vines, "A little stiff. I em not used to sleeping on the ground, sair."
"It's going to get worse before it gets better," Kirk warned.
"I'll be all right, sair."
"I think we're all in need of a rest, Mr. Chekov. What do you say, Jinx," he called ahead, "find us a good spot to rest and eat?"
"Not far, Captain," she called back. "Good eating ahead. Turn right and follow the smell of grabfoots."
Spock caught the vines on the shaft of his own spear. "I have them, Captain. You may continue. I should not like to rely on a human nose for direction."
"Nor would I, Mr. Spock." Kirk pushed on to remind Jinx of his limitations as Spock saw Wilson and Brightspot through the obstruction. Behind him, Wilson said with a chuckle, "Save your strength, Mr. Spock; Brightspot and I are small enough to wiggle through spaces like this. We won't hesitate to let you know if we need help, but we hardly expect gallantry from a Vulcan."
"Gallantry, Dr. Wilson? Am I to understand that you place an emotional interpretation on my assistance?"
Wilson laughed. "No. I'm merely pointing out that you're acting on a faulty assumption. I only meant to make a joke of it."
"I see," said Spock. "In future, I shall take your size into consideration."
Shortly the party reached a small outcropping of bare rock. Jinx sniffed, pointed into a dense growth of bushes. "Grabfoots," she said, "We'll catch a couple for our evening meal, and there's fruit here for Mr. Spock."
"I think we'll all start with fruit," said Kirk. He had not taken into consideration the fact that the party would be hunting its own food. Rest periods would have to begin while they were still fresh enough to hunt. No wonder Chekov looks so tired, he thought. "Stay put, ensign," he said, "I'll see to provisions this time." Chekov only nodded.
The fruit was simple enough. Brightspot climbed a broadleafed tree and shook a hail of ripe black fist-sized fruits down on them all. Whatever they were, they met with the approval of Wilson's sensor and Kirk found them amazingly good. But then, four hours' walk might make anything taste that good. His hunger satisfied, Kirk said to Jinx, "Now we'll see about that evening meal. Mr. Spock, you'll stand guard here."
"Mind if I come along, Captain?" It was Wilson. "I'd like to see how it's done." She seems to be enjoying this, he thought, looking at her scratched face and her rakish smile. He nodded, and the two of them pushed through the bushes behind Jinx and Brightspot.
Moments later the dense growth gave way and they emerged into gray light overlooking a rocky incline. Brightspot and Jinx started to pick their way down; Kirk followed. The footing was bad, and the spear made his work more difficult. Bushes and trees were few and far between here- little to hang on to- but the loose rock was covered with layers of dead leaves.
Wilson, digging in with her quarterstaff, said, "What are we looking for, Brightspot? I know what grabfoots look like, I saw the ones the hunting party brought in, but where do they live?"
"You really can't smell them?" said Brightspot.
"Really can't," said Wilson.
Brightspot told her, "They live underground, mostly on hillsides like this. We have to be careful because it smells like a big colony of them."
"How do we find them?" Kirk asked. His foot slipped on some mossy plant, and he narrowly avoided falling by catching a nearby shrub.
"We don't," said Jinx. "They mostly find us."
As if the words were some potent magic charm, the dry leaves around them exploded outward. Something small and brightly colored shot toward him; it sank vicious teeth into his boot. Still grasping the bush, Kirk swung to spear the creature. It hissed once and went limp, teeth and claws still locked on his boot.
He scraped the grabfoot from his point just as two more flashed from cover to attack. The first he speared; Wilson slammed aside the second with her staff. Suddenly there were dozens of the vicious little creatures on every side of them.
"Too many!" shouted Jinx. "Climb up!"
The advice may have been good for a Sivaoan- both Jinx and Brightspot scrambled easily up the hill, slapping away grabfoots with either hand as they climbed- but Kirk had claws neither for traction nor for defense. He reached for a spur of rock to pull his way up and sharp teeth sank into his wrist. He let go, swung hand and creature against the outcrop of rock and shattered the grabfoot's head.
Wilson slipped and went down; a dozen of the creatures attacked her. She raised her arm to protect her throat and face and, dropping her staff it was useless at such close quarters- fought back with her knife in silent fury.
The grabfoots tugged and dragged, pulling her relentlessly down the slope. Kirk saw to his horror that still more awaited them.
Kirk fought through to her, spearing as many as he could on the way. He grabbed at a tree trunk to secure himself- knowing that if he went down too neither of them would get up again- caught her upper arm and yanked her to her feet. She came up with a gasp, staff once again in hand, to slam two more before they reached his ankles.
Suddenly Brightspot and Jinx were beside them. The two- apparently realizing the trouble humans had climbing the incline- had returned. Taking the humans by the arms, they flung grabfoots aside with their tails. Together the four scrambled up the hill.
They had only gone a few yards when Jinx and Brightspot slowed and relaxed. The attack had ceased as unexpectedly as it had begun.
"It's okay, Evan. It's safe now." Brightspot wrapped her tail reassuringly around Wilson's waist.
"Safe!" said Wilson in disbelief.
"They won't come up this far," Jinx explained and, proving beyond doubt that she believed what she said, she sat down to catch her breath. "Grabfoots go down, not up." As if it were an everyday occurrence, she drew her knife and jabbed at the head of a dead grabfoot which still clung to her ankle. It took her only a second- obviously she knew from long experience which muscle to cut- to release the jaw and pry the teeth from her flesh.
Brightspot, who seemed unscathed, drew her own knife and tackled a grabfoot on Wilson's arm.
Wilson said, in a barely audible voice, "They tried to drag me down." She was shaking violently. Kirk realized that he still clasped her arm convulsively but, instead of releasing her, he jabbed his spear into the ground and caught her other shoulder as well. His own hands were none too steady.
"That's how they catch big things to eat. Grab its feet, pull it down where all of them can get at it," said Brightspot. Her tail bristled to twice its original width. "Jinx and I made a terrible mistake, Evan. We didn't think it through for you- and you didn't know the right questions to ask. You climb trees so well, it never occurred to me you'd have trouble with hills." Jinx cut away the first of three dead grabfoots that clung to Kirk and added darkly, "We didn't think to tell them to go up, either! We're dangerous to you, Captain!"
"No," he said sharply, "Listen to me, Jinx, Brightspot. We're none of us badly hurt-"
"Pure luck," said Jinx. Her tail twitched grimly; she stabbed at a second grabfoot.
"Yes," he went on, "but more luck than you think. Your world let us off with a sharp warning. If we've learned our lesson well enough, all of us, we have a better chance now than we had before."
She plainly did not understand. He said, "Think. If we asked you about the grabfoots now, what would you tell us?"
"Everything I could think of to tell!" said Jinx, and Brightspot nodded violent agreement and affirmed, "Everything!"
"Good," he said. "Remember that when we ask about something else."
"You're right, Captain." Evan's voice was steady now; she took a deep breath, stopped shuddering. He released her shoulders. "We'll ask better questions next time," she added, then she sat down and glared at the dead grabfoot with its teeth in her calf: "Now show me where to cut this sucker, in case I ever have to do it myself."
By the time they had pried loose the remaining grabfoots, they'd piled up nearly a dozen- and she and Kirk were both bleeding in as many places. Kirk, wincing, dabbed at the wound on his wrist. "Let it bleed, Captain," said Wilson, "It'll clean the wound. Puncture wounds like that can be a lot of trouble if they infect." She shook a gaudy corpse. "I'm going to enjoy eating you, you nasty little sucker," she told it with feeling. Kirk laughed. "Is that how you always hunt them, Brightspot- using yourselves as bait?"
Brightspot took the remaining grabfoot from Evan, threaded it onto a tent tie with the rest, then she looked at him morosely. "Usually, we hear them coming. We bash them and throw them up." From her gesture, she meant up the hill. "And they don't usually come in such big colonies. I've never seen so many in one place."
"Me neither," said Jinx. "I don't know how we're going to get down this hill.... They just weren't here the- last time I was."
"First," said Kirk, "we're going up this hill. We're going to sit down and let you tell us everything about anything else dangerous in this forest. Then we'll worry about how to get past the grabfoots."
Brightspot draped the string of grabfoots across her shoulders and rose. Jinx rose with her, and together they waited to assist their clawless friends.