Uhura's Song

Jim Kirk stepped from the transporter with a sense of elation. "Welcome aboard, Captain Kirk," said Ensign Orsay from the instrument panel. Her face was a study in mixed reactions: half delight to see him and half an attempt to conceal her horror at his appearance.

"Thank you, Ensign. It's good to be back." He needed a status report from the bridge, a shower and two days' sleep— in that order.

As the medical team Evan Wilson had requested helped Chekov onto a stretcher, she thumped her quarterstaff on the deck to spur them. Amid all the clean lines and austerity of the transporter room, she looked wilder than the Sivaoans. Brightspot, Another StarFreedom— each carrying one of Catchclaw's babies—stood frozen to the arrival platform, staring about in earstraining amazement.

"Brightspot," he said, "you'll have plenty of time to see everything. Now clear the space for the next contingent...." He motioned, and they stepped hesitantly down.

Kirk nodded to Ensign Orsay who said, "Energizing." Another StarFreedom gave a quiet shout, almost a cheer, as Catchclaw with Grabfoot, Uhura with TooLongTail, Rushlight, Knots (a rememberer) and Brave Tongue (another doctor) materialized. They too had to be motioned from the transporter platform.

Two more parties arrived. but Jim Kirk looked in vain for Stiff Tail. "I guess she's not coming," said Brightspot, whiskers drooping in disappointment.

"I guess not," Kirk said. "I'm sorry, Brightspot. I had hoped..."

"That she could grow up, too," Brightspot finished for him. "Me too. Maybe next year she'll be old enough to Walk."

"Maybe next year," Kirk agreed.

There was a horrible screeching sound at his feet, and Kirk looked down to see Grabfoot testing his claws against the deck plates. The child, ears almost flat against his head, said, "Catchclaw! All rock! No place for a tent! We'll get all wet!" He shook himself in disgusted anticipation.

"The whole ship is a tent," Kirk told him. "I promise you won't get wet unless you want to. Mr. Riley, would you see our guests to their quarters? You'll have to explain most of the equipment to them, but you'll only have to do so once. They'll remember it."

Brightspot brightened and curled her tail impudently at him. Uhura said, "If you don't mind, Captain, I'd like to do that myself."

"Of course, Uhura, but then see you get some sleep," Kirk said. "Evan, that goes for you too."

"First things first," she said. "After I get Mr. Chekov into sick bay and have a look at Mr. Spock, I want to see if I can spring Scotty. He must be chafing at the bit by now."

He nodded his permission, then added, "I�ll be on the bridge if you need me."

She raised an eyebrow. "You need sleep too, Captain."

"I know that, Doctor, but I assure you it can wait until we're underway."

"That's what I meant," she said, and he realized it was so.

Excusing himself, he eased his way through the crowd of Sivaoans. Grabfoot, now perched on Catchclaw's shoulder, eyed him as he passed and said, in scathing tones, "Want to get wet!" Jim Kirk laughed but continued on his way.

He did not stop until he reached the bridge. Sulu rose from the command chair, his formal salute and grin of welcome marred only by a startled blink. Perhaps I should have taken the shower first, thought Kirk ruefully, as Sulu said, "It's good to have you back, Captain."

"It's good to be back, Mr. Sulu."

He waited a moment as Sulu took his customary station, cheerfully displacing the crew member who had filled in. Sulu no longer hobbled; Wilson would no doubt be pleased to see him recovered from both her ministrations. Jim Kirk settled back into the command chair and did what pleased him— "Set course for Eeiauo, Mr. Sulu," he ordered, and added, "Let's not keep Dr. McCoy waiting."

"Aye, aye, sir!" came the reply. It was echoed with enthusiasm from all sides. Seconds later, Sulu said, "We're on our way!" And, while Jim Kirk luxuriated in the quiet surge of power beneath his feet, a soft cheer went up around him.

At last he swung the chair toward his communications officer. "Ensign Azuela," he said, "as soon as we are within range of a Federation relay beacon, I want to speak to Dr. McCoy— the sooner, the better." Reluctantly he rose. "The conn is yours, Mr. Sulu; I�ll be in my quarters if anything comes up."

As the turbolift doors hissed open, he took one last look around the bridge, gave a contented sigh and headed for his quarters.

 

He awoke feeling better than he had in weeks, showered a second time, dressed— reveling in the feel of clean clothes— and opened the intercom to the bridge. "Scott here. Glad t' have ye w' us again, Captain."

Kirk chuckled and said, "And you too, Scotty. I take it you don't have a case of Noisy-Baby?"

"Noisy-Baby, sir? It was ADF syndrome the lass was checkin' on, I thought."

"Never mind, Scotty. I�ll explain later. How's Mr. Spock?"

"Ye can see for y'rself, Captain. Dr. Wilson moved him back int' sick bay— where she can keep a closer eye on him, if ye take my meaning." That drew a full-throated laugh from Kirk.

"I do, Mr. Scott, I do!"

"Mr. Chekov's there as well. The lad looks a sight but he's in good spirits."

"I�ll go have a look," said Kirk, "and, Scotty, make sure you inform me as soon as you get through to Bones."

"Aye, that I will." When Scotty had signed off, Jim Kirk rose, stretched and headed for sick bay.

A line of crew members stretched from the doors and halfway down the corridor, and he paused to greet each as he passed by. At last, he eased his way in and found havoc— a carefully controlled havoc, but havoc nonetheless, as doctors took blood, tested blood, barked records into the computer and generally inoculated everyone in sight.

A hand and a tail caught him firmly by the arm and steered him to a chair. "Hey, Brave Tongue!" called Evan Wilson, "Not him— he's already been done!"

Ears flicked back, Brave Tongue scrutinized his face and said, "Sorry, Captain. I'm getting carried away." The tail whipped away, and Brave Tongue added, "How big a crew do you have?"

"Over four hundred," Kirk said.

"Oh," he said, clearly startled.

"Cheer up," Evan told the Sivaoan. "At the rate we're going, it'll only take us two more days. Then we get some rest before we have to start in on the real problem. I'm looking forward to it— the rest I mean. I'm just about frazzled."

She did look shockingly tired, but Kirk saw with relief that her eyes still held a hint of merriment. "Evan," Kirk said, "have you had any sleep at all?"

"Enough," she said.

"Barely enough," he corrected.

She shrugged, then gave him a nudge in the direction of the next room. "Spock. Chekov. Morale," she said and, when he hesitated, added, "The sooner you stop bothering us, Captain, the sooner we'll be done— and the sooner I can get that sleep." She made shooing motions.

He did as he was told. He found both Spock and Chekov sitting up. Spock held a computer link, obviously absorbed in some task. Scotty was right: Chekov looked a sight. His face and arms were covered with scars and most of his hair was gone— but the lesions had visibly healed and Kirk could see the stubble of new growth. Chekov glanced up. "Keptain!" he said and laid aside the book he had been reading to sit at attention.

With a smile, Kirk said, "At ease, Mr. Chekov."

Spock lifted a hand to indicate that he did not wish to be distracted from his computer for the moment. Kirk took this as a sign that Spock was recuperating nicely and said to Chekov, "Have you two been behaving yourselves?"

Chekov grinned. "Wouldn't you, Keptain?" he said, and he pointed: Wilson's quarterstaff stood prominently between the two ward beds. "Point taken, Mr. Chekov," Kirk said, grinning back.

There was a sudden burst of music and Spock's head jerked up. The sound seemed to come from his computer link. With a quick look at his startled science officer, Kirk strode across the room and keyed into the central computer from one of the medical terminals. The central computer replied as it normally did— but, softly underlying the mechanical voice, Kirk heard the same tune that came from Spock's link. It was difficult to repress a shudder; they'd had problems with the computer before— "Mr. Spock?" he asked, hoping to hear a simple explanation.

"I have no idea," said Spock, and Kirk said, "I don't like to think about it, Spock— another malfunction like the last time...." This time he did shudder.

"No malfunction," said Evan Wilson. She stepped into the room and paused, arms folded across her chest, to consider Spock. Then she turned to the medical computer and said, "This is Dr. Evan Wilson."

"Dr. Evan Wilson, acknowledged," said the mechanical voice.

"Enough is enough," she told it.

"Enough is enough," the mechanical voice responded— and the music ceased as abruptly as it had begun.

She turned to face Spock once more. "Mr. Spock," she said, "if you're sufficiently recovered to be sticking your tail in where it shouldn't be, then you're taking up bed space under false pretenses. You are released from sick bay."

Except for the raising of an eyebrow, Spock made no move. Wilson's face went crimson, and Spock looked suddenly down at the computer link in his hands, as if seeing it for the first time. Wilson gave a fleeting smile and said, "Or am I to understand that your inability to spot the flag is an indication that you need further rest, Mr. Spock?"

At that, Spock rose with almost indecent haste for a Vulcan. "Indeed not, Dr. Wilson," he said.

"Fine. Now get him out of here, Captain, before I take a stick to him."

As if they had already obeyed, she stepped to Chekov's side and focused her attention completely on him. "Let me see your back, Mr. Chekov." Chekov leaned forward to comply, and she ran a gentle hand over his skin. "Looks good," she said. "Any pain?"

"No, sair— but it itches!"

"Enjoy it," she said. "That's the best news I've heard in days. We'll have you out of here in no time."

Kirk said, "I'm looking forward to that, Mr. Chekov. I want you back on the bridge as soon as Dr. Wilson says you're able."

"Yes, sair," said Chekov happily; and Wilson smiled her thanks for Kirk's contribution to her patient's morale.

Then her eyes once more sought Spock. "In the future, Mr. Spock," she said softly, "please be more discreet."

"I shall, Doctor, I assure you."

As he walked along beside Spock, Kirk frowned at his science officer. He knew from personal experience that Spock could be something of a... nuisance, to put it politely; and, once inside the relative privacy of the turbolift, he said, "All right, Spock. What was that all about— flags in the computer?"

"Apparently, Dr. Wilson set a flag in the central computer's programming to alert her should certain information be sought." He paused, as if to examine his own behavior, then added, "As I did not notice the anomaly, she is perhaps correct to say I am not yet fully recovered."

"And just what sort of information did she flag, Spock?"

"Information on the Telamonite culture, Captain."

"Good lord, you're not still working on your theory about the 'discrepancies' in her records!"

"Merely indulging my curiosity, Captain. I had a great deal of time to spend and very little to occupy my mind."

"And that exchange— that you be more 'discreet'?"

"If I understood her correctly, she wished to know if I planned to continue my investigations."

"I see— and you told her you would." Jim Kirk laughed suddenly. "Mr. Spock, I think you've been set up." Spock raised a brow, and Kirk added, "Sorry. My fault, really." He went on to relate his conversation with Wilson on the subject of the "discrepancies" in her dossier.

Once he had begun, he found himself caught up in Evan's mischief, enjoying the mystification of his science officer as much as she seemed to. "...So you see, Mr. Spock, why I'd be willing to bet she set the flag just for your benefit," he finished, as they reached the bridge, "You had your tail pulled." He settled into the command chair, smiling at the double take his choice of expression drew from Sulu.

Spock paused at his side. "Negative, Captain. The subtlety of her work would argue against such an interpretation of the data. Dr. Wilson has not had sufficient time to spare since we returned to the Enterprise."

"Then she spotted you coming before we left Eeiauo. The subtlety of her work would certainly permit that."

"That is a possibility. I shall be interested to see what other information she has flagged."

"Spock!" That was going well beyond "nuisance," Jim Kirk thought, and he said, "I think I�ll have to find something else to occupy you— Evan has enough trouble on her hands for the moment."

Spock clasped his hands behind his back. He said, "If your interpretation is correct, I would most certainly be expected to continue my investigations." Kirk glanced at him obliquely but he could read nothing in Spock's expression.

"Mr. Spock," he inquired at last, unable to keep a note of amusement out of his voice, "are you suggesting that you wouldn't want to disappoint her?"

"I merely note the contradiction between your theory and your response."

"Of course." He nodded, a half smile on his face. Regrettably, Spock was right: if this was Evan's idea of a joke— and he was sure of that now—she would be disappointed not to have it sprung. "All right," he said aloud, "Your logic defeats me, as usual. Investigate away, Spock— though I trust you will use somewhat more discretion from now on."

 

As luck had it, Jim Kirk was once again on his way to sick bay to see Mr. Chekov when Uhura paged him. He opened a com link in the corridor and said, "Kirk here, Lieutenant."

"I have Dr. McCoy, sir," she said, and he could hear the triumph in her voice.

"Put him through to Dr. Wilson in sick bay, Uhura. I�ll be right there."

He arrived on the run and pushed through the thinning crowd. Dr. M'Benga pointed him into McCoy's office. There he found Wilson seated before the screen, transmitting the specifications that would enable McCoy to synthesize both the remedy and the vaccine for ADF syndrome. Bones was turned away from his screen, watching the data as they came in and nodding gravely as he did. "It's related to the palliative we worked out," he said. "Blast! A little closer and we'd have had it!" He looked up and brightened. "Jim!" he said.

"Don't let me interrupt, Bones— but it's good to see you."

"Not half as good as it is to see you." McCoy grinned and, ripping off the printout, held it up, "—and this. Thanks, both of you. Now get the hell out of here and let me work."

"One more thing, Leonard!" said Wilson. "Take a good look at that last item— the HLA factor. It may be, at least I've reason to think, that people with that particular factor get hit harder and faster than—"

"Chekov," said McCoy, "Is Chekov all right?"

"Scruffy-looking but recuperating nicely," she grinned at him, "and everybody else is as healthy as a horse."

"I'd have said 'a Vulcan,"' McCoy told her, grinning back his relief.

"He's recovering nicely too, thanks to Dr. M'Benga," said Wilson.

McCoy's reaction was almost a parody of surprise. Then he shook his head as if to clear it. "You can tell me all about it when you get here. I've got work to do. McCoy out."

As the screen went blank, Evan Wilson snapped on the intercom: "Nyota? Dr. McCoy tells me that Christine Chapel and Sunfall of Ennien are still alive— and that he and Dr. Mickiewicz will deliver our findings to them personally." A sharp indrawn breath was the only acknowledgment. She went on, "Would you make some sort of general announcement to that effect? I know a lot of people are concerned."

This time the reply was heard all over the ship, as Uhura switched immediately to public address: "Now hear this! Now hear this!" The rest of her joyful words drew cheers from the next room.

Evan Wilson turned her chair to face Kirk. "That's done," she said; then she sighed and closed her eyes briefly. "It's over." Kirk nodded and, because he felt it too, recognized the source of her dissatisfaction.

"Those are the hazards of modern communication," he said. "I admit it would be considerably more satisfying to charge in on a white horse and hand Bones the cure in person. As it is, he'll have most of the problem mopped up before we reach Eeiauo."

"I know. But the two weeks we just cut from our time may have saved a lot of lives. ADF syndrome kills humans. Elath bless Leonard McCoy: he bought them all time with his palliative. Now we'll have to wait and see if Another StarFreedom's remedy will work at that late a stage in the disease." She sighed again, then she stood and stretched as thoroughly as any Sivaoan. When she had finished, she leaned back against the desk to study him: "You'd look pretty good charging in on a white horse, Captain."

"So would you," he said.

She shook her head. "Make mine an Appaloosa—spotty suits me better." But her smile faded as swiftly as it had come and, as the silence between the two of them lengthened, Kirk knew again what she was feeling. "So there's nothing to do but wait," he said. The words came out more glumly than he had intended.

"Are you off duty?" When he nodded, she went on, "Good. I hear you're a better-than-average swimmer. How'd you like to volunteer for hazardous duty?" She took him lightly by the arm. "You and I, Captain, are going to drown-proof some Sivaoans...."

"Watch me, ccaptain! Watch me! Want to get wet!" shouted WhiteWhisker from the diving board. Treading water, Jim Kirk looked up. "I'm watching," he assured her with a smile. The child bounced twice and cannonballed into the pool, splashing half a dozen of the onlookers. She came up with a shout of triumph and paddled toward him, using her tail for extra speed. For a brief moment, she clung to his arm with both hands and tail, then the tail shot up, shot down, splashing water in his face. "Hey!" he protested, but she had already kicked off and was swimming away, shouting, "Ccatch me!" Kirk laughed and stroked lazily after her.

Hazardous duty, he thought. Evan had not been joking. It had taken all the patience and persuasion the two of them possessed to coax the panicked Brightspot into the water. She still lacked the confidence to join Catchclaws's four in their games, but now she paddled earnestly back and forth in the shallows.

"Duck!" shouted Evan. He did, and a red and blue ball missed his head by inches. He caught it and tossed it back to Grabfoot, who caught it with his tail and fielded it to WhiteWhisker. TooLongTail lunged for it at the same moment and the customary free-for-all followed. Kirk swam over to referee. He had no intention of letting the little ones drown each other in their enthusiasm.

In some way, Jim Kirk wished he weren't having so much fun. He knew Bones wasn't. Well, he thought, as he grabbed a tail and pulled WhiteWhisker to the surface for a breath of air, When we reach Eeiauo, we'll have plenty to do. I might as well enjoy this while I can.

 

As tired as he was, Leonard McCoy had never felt better: Two of his patients had already come out of coma! And his own vision had cleared, the pain in his joints eased— Jim Kirk had once again done the impossible.

From all the indications, he'd have good news for Uhura too. Although Sunfall of Ennien had not yet recovered consciousness, her condition was so improved that McCoy took the liberty of having her moved so he could keep a personal eye on her until she did.

Having administered the Sivaoan remedy to all the most critical of his patients, he sat down at the communication screen. It would only take a minute to call the Flinn, and he had to know how things were working out there.

Micky greeted him with a grin. "Just the man I wanted to see— I've got somebody here who wants a word with you, Leonard," she said, and the screen shifted to show him a patient in a ward bed.

"Hello, Dr. McCoy." The voice was weak and the patient did not lift her head to speak, but McCoy recognized her then. "Christine," he said softly, "it's good to hear your voice."

She gave him a faint smile and said, "It's good to hear yours too. Is the captain all right— and Mr. Spock?"

"They're just fine, Christine," he said, reassured and reassuring. "And they'll be mighty glad to hear that you are too." She nodded, almost imperceptibly; then Micky interposed herself to say, "All right, Leonard, that's enough. I�ll thank you to let my patient get some sleep."

Affronted, McCoy growled without thinking, "Your patient!"

It fazed Mickiewicz not at all. "My patient," she repeated. "You always were grabby, Leonard."

"Grabby!" he said, softening. "I resent that."

"Resent it all you want," she said, amused, "but go away. And get some sleep yourself. You deserve it."

"Oh, I deserve it all right, but there's still a lot to do. Sleep will just have to wait." He smiled, "But I am goin' to take the time to give Jim the good news."

"That would be 'Jim' as in Captain Kirk of the Enterprise?" and at his nod she went on, "Then I want an introduction when you get a chance. A remarkable man, your captain."

"That," said McCoy, "is an understatement. But ask for an introduction to Spock as well. That pointy-eared menace to mental stability is probably half responsible for the success of the Enterprise's mission. I'd bet on it."

"Then we owe them both three cheers."

"Address your cheers to the Enterprise crew," McCoy advised. "Jim will appreciate that a lot more."

 

Having given the matter a good deal of careful thought, Spock had come to the conclusion that his initial failure to spot Wilson's flags stemmed not from any temporary mental impairment his illness might have caused him, but rather from her own very considerable skill at programming. While he had found and skirted some dozen other flags, he was both impressed and intrigued. If it were a joke, as the captain suggested, it was one he could appreciate on a purely intellectual level. He studied the back of Jim Kirk's head, wondering if he should be informed. It surprised him somewhat, knowing the scope of the captain's curiosity as he did, that the captain had not asked— had not so much as alluded to, in fact— his investigations into the computer since giving him permission to resume them. This too was puzzling.

"Mr. Spock? Starfleet Records, sir. They say they have some information you requested?" Uhura glanced across, mild surprise on her face. He had made the request himself, not through her— nor did he wish to explain the reasoning behind his action.

"Thank you, Lieutenant," he said. "Kindly transfer the information to my quarters. I shall take it there. With your permission, Captain?"

Jim Kirk swung the command chair to look at him. Spock did not completely comprehend the expression on the captain's face— it seemed to combine exasperation and amusement— but Kirk only said, "You're relieved of duty, Mr. Spock. Enjoy yourself."

"Sir?" he said, lifting a brow.

"Never mind, Spock. Go on— don't keep Starfleet waiting."

Spock went.

Once in his quarters, he found himself hesitating before the computer console. Perhaps Jim Kirk was right, perhaps it was nothing stranger than the everyday strangeness of human behavior that baffled him. There was only one way to find out. He sat and keyed in the command that would screen the information he had requested: Dr. Evan Wilson's comprehensive Starfleet dossier. As the first image flashed onto the monitor, Spock knew that her protective flags had been no joke, but he read the records through. Then, in defiance of all logic, he read them through a second time....

He sat back and put the tips of his fingers together, as if contemplating the next move in a game of tri-dimensional chess. The decision took him only a moment to reach but somewhat longer to implement.

First, he transferred the entire dossier to his private file. She might, he realized, be sufficiently skilled to access anything that did not require a retina scan. The possibility intrigued him and in consequence he devoted a considerable amount of time and energy to devising a flag of his own, to notify him if she did.

Then, returning his attention to the central computer, he sought out the flag he had so arduously avoided when requesting Evan Wilson's dossier. He tripped it.

Nothing happened.

He had expected another burst of music but there was only silence. Wondering if he had made an error, Spock frowned slightly at the screen. Then he saw it— a tiny starburst in the upper right-hand corner. It might have been a minor flaw in a tape, but Spock knew it would appear in every image on every screen until she saw it—

Kirk's voice from the intercom put an end to his speculation for the time: "Sorry to interrupt, Spock, but we're now in standard orbit around Eeiauo. Will you join me in briefing room A at your earliest convenience?"

"On my way, Captain."

When he reached the briefing room, it was filled to capacity with officers and Sivaoans. Uhura pushed through to his side and gave him a delighted smile. "Sunfall is conscious, sir! Dr. McCoy says she and Christine are both fine!"

"That is most gratifying," Spock said. Her smile faded, and he knew he had disappointed her, but he did not understand how.

"Never mind, sir," she said. "It is only that I feel good— and I wish you could share my joy." Her smile was wistful.

Spock considered her and said at last, "Thank you, Lieutenant. While I do not share your emotion, I do appreciate your intention." This time he had chosen the correct response— her smile brightened again.

"People!" Jim Kirk's shout cut through the noise and brought quiet. "People, I realize the current circumstances would seem to warrant a rousing cheer or two, but we still have business to attend to. If you'll be seated, Dr. McCoy has a few words. I suggest you all listen."

"Thanks, Jim," said McCoy from the triangular screens at each table. "First— for those of you who haven't heard— Nurse Chapel is recovering nicely. There seem to be no permanent effects, mind or body."

"All right!" said Sulu enthusiastically; then he added, "Sorry, Dr. McCoy...."

McCoy grinned. "I know how you feel, Mr. Sulu. Don't apologize. Jim, I've notified Starfleet Command and they've agreed: the quarantine only applies to people who haven't been vaccinated for ADF syndrome. Since Dr. Wilson saw to all of you, you're welcome to beam down. I can still use a lot of help— and I don't mean just trained professionals, I mean any pair of hands I can get."

From the other side of the table, a pair of hands shot up promptly, and Kirk chuckled, "At ease, Dr. Wilson. I wouldn't dream of spoiling your fun. I think you've got as many as you need, Bones." There was a murmur of assent.

McCoy nodded, pleased, then he went on, "Jim, I'd appreciate it if you'd stop by and see Christine. Tell her she did a fine job, and pat Evan on the back for me too if you can do it without gettin' yourself thrown across the room."

Jim Kirk laughed. "I will, Bones. Without Evan, we'd have never grown up."

"I don't know what you're talkin' about," said McCoy, "but I'm talkin' about the Wilson-Chapel serum. All I did was complete the line of research the two of them worked out, and I'm damn well goin' to see credit given where it's due."

Kirk raised his head. Wilson was hidden from his view by the monitor. He said instead, "Tell her yourself, Bones. She's right here," and keyed the computer to show him.

Spock, standing, had a clear view. He saw Wilson shake her head once, then lean back to consider McCoy's image. "I�ll be right there, Leonard," she said. "Meanwhile, I want you in bed and resting." McCoy's jaw dropped— but, for one of the few times in Spock's experience, he seemed at a loss for words.

"Dr. Wilson?" said Kirk; he too seemed surprised.

"Take a good look, Captain," she said. "He's obviously recuperating from ADF himself. That makes him a patient in my book."

McCoy found his voice. "Now see here—"

Caught between the two, Kirk appealed to Spock with a glance. Spock said, "She is correct, Captain."

"Yes, I had ADF," McCoy said, "but I'm fine. Blast, I can't just desert my patients, Evan."

With the flick of a switch, Kirk commanded McCoy's full attention. "You won't have to, Bones. I'm sending Dr. Wilson down with the first group of volunteers. When she arrives"— and this proviso cut short any further protest— "you are to consider yourself relieved of all duties. I'm sure she'll take good care of you."

Having resolved the problem to everyone's satisfaction, Kirk ended the call and turned to the Sivaoans. "Another StarFreedom," he said, "Catchclaw, the Federation diplomats would like to have a word with your party."

"Diplomats?" said Catchclaw. Apparently the word did not translate; and to Spock the amusement engendered by the captain's attempt to explain did seem somewhat excessive. At last, Catchclaw said impatiently, "These 'diplomatss'— are they sick, Captain?"

"No, but..."

The tip of her tail flicked her annoyance. She said, "If they're not sick, they can wait. I'm going to get my sensors. I take it we're to meet in the transporter room?"

Quite logically, Kirk chose not to argue her decision. He nodded and said, "The briefing is ended. Dismissed."

As people began to file out, Kirk stopped Uhura momentarily. "Lieutenant," he said, "I believe you would like to be in the first party?"

"Oh yes, Captain! Thank you, sir!" She left beaming.

"Evan," Kirk said, and Wilson paused at the door, pushed her way back to look up at him. He said, "About that pat on the back..."

"About being thrown across the room," she countered. "Not now, Captain, I have a lot to do."

"All right," he said, smiling, "then take good care of Bones, will you? I warn you, it won't be easy getting him to rest." She chuckled and said, "Believe me, Captain, I know. Doctors make terrible patients. I�ll take my stick."

Spock glanced at the now-darkened computer screen. It seemed highly unlikely that she had missed the starburst, but he said, "Tail-Kinker to-Ennien." Jim Kirk favored him with an odd look as Evan Wilson paused for a second time on the threshold. Spock said in explanation, "It was the name she chose for herself, Captain."

"Yes, Mr. Spock," she said.

"The central computer—" he began, without thinking how he might end that sentence.

She smiled and made it unnecessary. "You put it there, Mr. Spock," she said. "You get rid of it. I have work to do." She turned, took a step and the doors hissed closed behind her. Spock stared after her, perplexed.

"Another flag, Mr. Spock?" Spock turned, to find Jim Kirk smiling at him almost indulgently. Kirk said, "Well, at least it's not a noisy one. I think she's right, and I must say I'm a little surprised." The smile changed to a slight frown of concern, as he added, "How are you feeling?"

"I am quite recovered, thank you, Captain."

"If that's true, how is it you're tripping Dr. Wilson's flags— or they're tripping you? I thought you were the resident computer expert around here."

"I am unable to explain, Captain." It was not a lie: Spock had no wish to involve Jim Kirk in his decision. "I admit I find her behavior most baffling."

"I could say the same for yours, Spock. What do you know that I don't?"

The question was totally without precedent in Spock's experience. He raised an eyebrow and said, "Captain?"

Kirk looked at him for a long moment, then laughed and shook his head. "Never mind, Mr. Spock. When I think of a way to rephrase that question, I�ll try again. For now, let's see to giving Bones the hands he needs."

 

The figure curled on the circular bed bore so little resemblance to the graceful, glossy-furred image in her memory that Uhura's first thought was, That can't be Sunfall! But she knew it was and, knowing that, found the sight almost unbearable. Rushlight curled his comforting tail around her waist, and Uhura stroked it absently. Then she stepped to the side of the bed, drawing him with her. "Sunfall?" she said hesitantly.

The Eeiauoan opened her eyes with difficulty; the nictitating membranes were still swollen and red. "Nyota!" she said. "Is that really you?"

Uhura blinked back tears, fought the catch in her throat and said, "It is, Sunfall. Oh, Sunfall, how do you feel?"

Sunfall lifted her hairless tail an inch or two from the bed. "Like CloudShape after she stole the lightning," she said. "You see? Even my tail shows it." With effort, she stretched out a hand.

Uhura caught her hand and hugged it to herself. "You will get better," she said. "I promise you." And she knew it was a promise she could keep— beneath her fingers, she could already feel the velvety growth of new fur.

Arching her few remaining whiskers forward, Sunfall said, "I�ll do my best. I wish I could thank someone. After all these years and all the deaths, your people found the cure we couldn't."

"It was Thunderstroke's cure. The songs you taught me...." Uhura said softly, then, "Don't be angry with me, please, Sunfall. I had no choice. I couldn't let you die."

Sunfall's eyes narrowed to slits. "You promised, Nyota. You promised not to mention them to an Eeiauoan." She bristled, and the sparseness of her fur made her distress terrible to see. But her eyes were turned to Rushlight.

Uhura, reminded of his presence, said quickly, "But he's not, Sunfall. I'm sorry. He's not Eeiauoan and he doesn't understand your language." Uhura said, this time speaking not modern Eeiauoan but Old Tongue, "Sunfall of Ennien, this is my friend Rushlight to-Vensre."

"To-Vensre?" Sunfall said suddenly. She struggled to rise, but Uhura gently pushed her down again. "To-Vensre?" she said once again, this time to Rushlight. "How is that possible? Why would you come after all this time?"

Rushlight cocked his ears, and the gold earrings in them sparkled at the movement. As he lifted his lutelike instrument for her to see, his eyes held a sparkle brighter still. "I came to keep a promise: to meet a bard named Sunfall and to share songs."

"After all this time...you've come at last," Sunfall said. "Thank you, Nyota."

Uhura laid a gentle hand on her cheek. "Rest now, Sunfall. We'll talk later. Rest," she said again, and she began to sing a lullabye, softly so that only Sunfall would hear. Rushlight lifted his instrument and, just as softly, followed Uhura's lead. Sunfall of Ennien let her eyes drift from one to the other, then she gave a contented sigh and let sleep close them.

 

With the first party of volunteers, Jim Kirk beamed aboard the medship Flinn— and stepped from the transporter platform directly into the sharp-eyed scrutiny of a woman no taller than Evan Wilson. She had the face of a cherub, haloed by short curly black hair, but her Starfleet Medical garb glittered with stripes almost to her elbows. "Atten-shun!" she said, and Jim Kirk instinctively snapped straight. Around him, medical personnel of all ranks turned to face him; with broad grins, they too snapped to attention. The colonel, now grinning as broadly as the rest of her personnel, continued, "Captain James T. Kirk, prepare to receive honors on behalf of the crew of the U.S.S. Enterprise.... Hip, hip!"

"Hooray!" responded her team.

Had she directed the three cheers in his behalf, Jim Kirk would have been embarrassed, but for his crew he was proud and delighted. "Thank you," he said gravely when they had finished, "on behalf of my crew." With that, the epidemiological team went back to business at hand. The colonel stepped toward him and he said again, "Thank you, Colonel Mickiewicz—"

She cut him off. "Thank you," she said, "and call me Micky. Any friend of Leonard's is a friend of mine, especially you. You�ll want to see Christine Chapel— follow me." Following his glance to the crew members he had brought with him, she added, "Dr. Dziedzic will put them to work, believe me."

Christine Chapel, he found, looked much like Chekov, and the sight of fading lesions on her face and hands did much more to reassure him of her continuing recovery than did her manner. She seemed uncomfortable with his presence. He stayed just long enough to make her understand how proud he was of her work on the serum, that had saved so many lives.

Outside the ward door, Mickiewicz glanced up at his approach and said, "I�ll walk you back to transport— and you�ll deliver some specimens to Leonard for me." She held up a small case and set off at a brisk walk, adding as he followed, "Don't worry, Captain. When Chapel's up to it, we'll give her a rousing sendoff."

"Good," he said, smiling briefly, "she deserves it. But that's not what worries me— I think she would have preferred not to see me."

"The other way around, Captain: she'd have preferred that you not see her. She'll get over her shyness once her hair grows back. It's only vanity, and it happens to the best of us." Pausing in midcorridor, she brushed her dark curls aside and displayed a dozen artfully hidden bald patches on her own scalp. "I was luckier: the Wilson-Chapel serum left me enough hair to leave me my pride. But I suspect caps and scarves are going to make an abrupt comeback in Federation style for the next few months."

Picturing Chekov and Chapel, Kirk had to admit the possibility and added speculatively, "I wonder how many of the top brass got Noisy-Baby?"

She looked up, with a slight smile, questioning and Jim Kirk realized to his embarrassment that he knew of at least one. The smile turned to a grin, and she said, "Never mind, Captain. You're thinking of new uniforms, topped with a cap." He nodded confirmation. Thrusting the small case into his hand, she pointed him onto the transporter platform. "Take my word for it," she said. "The way Starfleet Command moves, it will be fifteen years before it's implemented and by then they�ll have forgotten the cap.... Energize," and with a wink and a grin, she vanished like the Cheshire cat.

Jim Kirk arrived on the surface of Eeiauo with a Cheshire cat grin of his own. He stood facing the low attractive building that served as this area's hospital. To his right, on the treefilled grounds, he saw a handful of brightly colored tents. Catchclaw and the rest of the Sivaoans had clearly had enough of indoor living. A handful of Eeiauoans, exercising limbs made stiff by the effects of ADF and weeks or months in bed, had stopped to stare in mingled wonder and disapproval at TooLongTail and EagerTalker who swung by their tails from a branch and stared back in much the same manner. It took him a moment to recall that the Eeiauoans considered it vulgar to use a tail other than... decoratively. I'd better warn Catchclaw about that, he thought, climbing the long low stairway to enter the hospital.

Inside, he found Spock at the receptionist's desk, pieces of some delicate medical instrument spread before him for repair. "Captain," he acknowledged, as he continued his work, "I trust Nurse Chapel is well?"

"As well as can be expected. How's Bones— and where is he?"

"As he was asleep when I arrived with the third landing party, I was not permitted to speak to him," Spock said. "Dr. Wilson would like a word with you before you wake him."

"If he needs sleep that badly," Kirk said, "I'm not sure I should wake him."

At that Spock looked up, fixed him with a piercing look and said, "Dr. Wilson thinks otherwise."

Kirk spread his hands and, grinning again, said, "Who am I to argue with a woman with a quarterstaff? Carry on, Spock; I�ll find Evan myself."

It was not long before he found her, monitoring the pulse of a Eeiauoan in the first ward. She jerked sharply toward him and growled, "You're supposed to be Catchclaw." There was little response he could make to that, and her wariness kept him from questioning it.

He looked more closely and recognized her patient: Quickfoot, the Eeiauoan doctor who had given Spock the last piece of his puzzle and then, because of this 'treason,' had attempted suicide. Kirk suddenly understood. Quickfoot was about to come out of her coma, and Evan was afraid this time she might succeed.

As Quickfoot began to stir, Catchclaw arrived in a scrabbling skid of claws. "Tail-Kinker? What's so important that it can't wait five minutes?"

"I can't explain, Catchclaw, but I need you here when Quickfoot wakes. You're in charge but make a point of introducing yourself with your full name." She relinquished her place to the Sivaoan and, catching Kirk's arm, drew him along as she stepped out of Quickfoot's line of sight. Asking no further explanation, Catchclaw took Quickfoot's head in gentle hands. The patience of her waiting was so complete that, had it not been for idle movement in her tail tip, Kirk would have thought her a statue. Minutes went by, and only the tenseness in the fingertips on his arm told Kirk of Evan's fears. He laid his hand over hers and the fingers convulsed— Quickfoot's form jerked.

Catchclaw said, "Quickfoot? Gently, Quickfoot, you still have a good deal of healing to do."

Jim Kirk could barely hear Quickfoot's whisper of disbelief: "Healing? The Long Death...it's the Long Death."

Evan Wilson clenched one hand on his arm, the other behind her back. Catchclaw said, "I'm Catchclaw to-Ennien. I came to help."

"To-Ennien? To-Ennien?" Quickfoot said, struggling to sit up. Catchclaw was not about to allow that.

"To-Ennien," she confirmed. "Now behave yourself and rest, and you�ll be up and around in a week."

"Why would you come? How could you have forgiven us?"

"Forgiven you?...Oh!" she said with sudden comprehension. She took Quickfoot's hand firmly between her own and went on, "We forgave your ancestors a long time ago. It was ourselves we couldn't forgive. Captain told us we were all acting like children. So here we are, trying to grow up." Her tail looped in amusement.

Quickfoot stopped struggling and said, "I don't understand...but I'm glad you came. You can help? You can stop the Long Death?"

"Yes," said Catchclaw. "Now rest, Quickfoot. We'll talk later when you're feeling better."

Quickfoot arched her whiskers forward and said, as if it were the most wonderful word in any language, "Later..." She closed her eyes.

The small hand on his arm loosened, and Kirk released it from his grip. "Thank you, Catchclaw," she said softly. Then, turning to him, "She'll be all right now, Captain. Come on, I�ll take you to Leonard."

He followed her outside and down a long corridor with rows of windows overlooking the grounds, sorry now he had let go her hand. He wanted very much to offer her a hug— not for purposes of demonstration, but for the sheer good spirits of it. Because he could not say what he wished, he said, "Is he awake, Evan?"

"No, but you can wake him. It�ll do you both good."

He had to ask, "Then why didn't you permit Spock—?"

"I need that sensor fixed, Captain, and Spock hardly needs an emotional pick-me-up."

"I see"— he smiled— "and I do?"

She glanced up, faintly surprised. "Don't you? Besides, you're most likely to give Leonard the lift he needs." She stopped before a door. "In there," she said, "and do me a favor? Give him a long, highly detailed account of everything you've done since you last saw him."

"And make it good enough to keep him in bed?" Kirk suggested and read confirmation in her smile. "I�ll do my best, Evan." He opened the door, stepped through and eased it quietly closed behind him.

Hidden among the boxes of medical supplies was a cot. On it sprawled Leonard McCoy; curled in the crook of his elbow was Grabfoot and, at his feet, WhiteWhisker. All three were sound asleep.

Jim Kirk hesitated to wake him. Even in sleep his face seemed drawn with weariness. He had lost a great deal of hair, but only the faint traces of lesions remained. He too was healing.

Reminding himself that Evan had put him in charge of McCoy's morale, he touched his chief medical officer on the shoulder and shook him gently. "Bones," he said, "Bones." McCoy stirred with a groan. Kirk grinned and said, quietly but in a tone of command, "Status report, Dr. McCoy."

 

McCoy's eyelids shot open. "Jim!" he said. Kirk put a finger to his lips and indicated the two sleeping children.

Propping himself up from his cot on one elbow— not the one Grabfoot was using as a pillow— McCoy said again, more quietly but with no less passion, "Jim, it's good to see you!"

"Good to see you, Bones. No," he added, as McCoy eased Grabfoot's head from his arm, "don't get up. That's an order."

McCoy made a huffy sound, almost identical to Catchclaw's chuff of exasperation, and pointed to Grabfoot and White-Whisker. "I'm supposed to be watching them," he growled, but he kept his voice low to avoid waking them. "D'you know what I think? I think they're watching me!"

"That wouldn't surprise me in the least," Kirk told him.

"So it hardly surprises me that she's got you in on it too," McCoy continued. "D'you know she told me she'd let me make rounds once a day, I stay in bed the rest of the time? She'll 'let' me! She threatened to send me—" He stabbed a finger at the ceiling, presumably in the direction of the Flinn and, still smoldering, he added, "I tell you, Jim, that woman, as small as she is, has all the makings of a tyrant!"

Kirk grinned at him. "You sound better already, Bones."

The scowl gave way to an answering grin, as McCoy lounged back on the cot. "I feel better, Jim. Lord, it's good to see you!" he said again. "Don't just stand there: pull up a chair and tell me everything."

Unable to resist the line, Kirk said, "Just what the doctor ordered," and was rewarded by McCoy's startled laugh of comprehension. As Kirk reached for a small folding chair, he realized he was still holding the specimen case in his hand. "Micky sent her love," he said, "and some specimens you wanted. I should have given them to Evan."

"Specimens from Micky? Don't you dare." McCoy eased Grabfoot's head from his arm, and Kirk somewhat reluctantly turned over the case. McCoy opened it. "Ah," he said with a sigh. "She gave you your three cheers, Jim?" He looked up for the answer.

Kirk nodded. "For the Enterprise crew," he said, as he sat. "What's one got to do with the other?"

"That's Micky," said McCoy. "Always a woman of her word." He turned the specimen case slightly so Kirk could see the contents: a bottle of Csillag brandy and, nestled in tissue paper, a single glass. He unpacked them both. "There ought to be another glass in one of those boxes, Jim. Get one and we'll drink to the lady."

"Are you sure, Bones?"

"Is it medically advisable, d'you mean?" McCoy glared at him and went on, "It was prescribed by one of the finest doctors Starfleet Academy ever produced, and I ought to know— we shared a cadaver."

There seemed little Jim Kirk could say to that. He found himself a glass. "Sorry, Bones. I wouldn't dream of questioning the lady's judgment."

"Good," said McCoy curtly. "Sit down, drink up"— he poured— "and tell me all about it." He raised his glass and, touching it to Kirk's, said, "To Micky, McCoy and Macbeth." He downed the brandy, then sighed contentedly.

Kirk complied with the toast then asked, "Why Macbeth?"

"He was the cadaver. The report that came with him listed coronary infarction as cause of death, but he'd been run through with a sword. We never did find out the circumstances. And Micky never could resist a good alliteration."

From the foot of the cot came a sneeze, and WhiteWhisker sat up, tiny face contorted, nose working furiously. Before either could give the child a greeting, she hissed and bounced once on Grabfoot, who woke with an identical grimace. As McCoy poured himself another glass of brandy, Grabfoot leaned gingerly closer, sniffed and jerked back as if he'd been slapped. With a shout to White-Whisker, he charged for the door and out; WhiteWhisker was right behind him.

McCoy peered into the amber liquid. "Never underestimate the power of a good brandy," he said, and this time sipped it slowly. "How's Chapel?"

"She's fine. Her morale's low, but Micky says it's the...esthetic loss." At Bones's look of incomprehension, Kirk pointed to the bald patches on Bones's own head. "She'll get over it when her hair grows back."

"I think I know how she feels," McCoy growled.

They were both silent a moment, appreciating the brandy and the company. At last, McCoy set his glass on the floor and lay back once more. "All right," he said, "now you can tell me all about it. Doesn't seem right, you know."

"What doesn't?"

"While we all work ourselves to exhaustion here, you wander off and find the cure to ADF— for a song!" His smug expression told Jim Kirk that he had been waiting for a chance to use the line for some time now.

Jim Kirk grinned back at him, spread his hands and countered with the line he had been saving for just this occasion: "It was child's play, Bones."

 

Captain's Log, Stardate 2962.3:

Vaccinated volunteers continue to arrive on Eeiauo from all over the Federation. Soon there will be no need of our extra hands and the Enterprise will be free for reassignment. Most of the crew has already returned to the ship. With the arrivals of Nurse Chapel and Doctors McCoy and Wilson, the ship's register is almost complete.

 

Personal Log, James T. Kirk, Stardate 2962.3:

...which leaves us little to do but write reports for Star Fleet.

And a formal report has no heading for "Chief Medical Officer, Characteristic Entrance Of."

 

"Welcome back, Bones," Jim Kirk said, as McCoy sparkled onto the transporter platform.

"Jim," he said with a smile. He glanced down to confirm that all of him had arrived safely and, fixing a steely eye on Scott, he growled, "'Scrambled my mother', Mr. Scott?"

Scotty looked momentarily bewildered— then, with dawning comprehension, he said, "Oh, Rushlight! He didna warn me about his memory.... I didna expect him t' tell ye the tale...!"

"Obviously not," said McCoy acidly, as he stepped down.

Evan Wilson, hopping lightly off the platform behind him, said, "Is that where Rushlight got the idea for his 'Scramble Song'? Don't grouse, Leonard, it's a great success with the children. You should be pleased to have contributed."

McCoy growled at her, "Some day I'm goin' to take you over my knee...."

"I wouldn't advise it, Bones," Kirk said. "She's smaller than you are," and Evan rewarded him for it with a brilliant smile.

Rather than explain the remark to McCoy, she said, "I'm on my way to sick bay; I want to say hello to Christine."

"Tell her I�ll be along in a minute," McCoy said.

"I�ll tell her you're picking on Scotty, and I�ll sing her Uhura's Standard version of the 'Scramble Song'," said Wilson and scrammed before McCoy's amiable swat in her direction could connect.

When he turned back to Scott, McCoy was grinning. "I'm in too good a mood to be bothered, Scotty," he said, "but don't think I�ll let you forget it."

"I wouldna do enna such thing, Dr. McCoy."

McCoy, pleased, nodded, then said, "I'd like to see Chekov."

"On the bridge," Kirk said and, leaving Scotty to supervise transport of the few remaining stragglers, accompanied him down the corridor.

"As for you," McCoy said, "you didn't tell me how Evan got the Sivaoan solution into the boy— I had to read her reports to find out. Are you gettin' fastidious in your old age?" He chuckled. "Blew it up his nose! Lord, you should have heard Micky laugh. And wait until Starfleet Medical reads that one!"

"And here I was thinking Starfleet misses all the good parts...."

"Not that one, they won't." McCoy gestured him into the turbo-lift, said, "Bridge," then, "How's Spock, Jim?" As surprised by the question as by the seriousness of his tone, Kirk stared; and McCoy added hastily, "I don't mean medically. I mean, how does he seem to you? Noticed anything out of the ordinary?"

"Out of the ordinary," Jim Kirk repeated and thought immediately of the one bright afternoon he had found Evan Wilson and a double handful of children, Eeiauoan and Sivaoan, all sitting on the hospital steps, all listening with rapt attention as Spock— Spock—told them the adventures of T'Kay, the Vulcan trickster. The memory brought a smile. "As in telling stories to the children? I didn't know he had it in him."

"Neither did I. Evan threatened to have his pointy ears if he didn't keep his promise to tell Eager Talker about T'Kay." He grinned. "I got the full story from EagerTalker, and not just 'How it happened when CloudShape came to Vulcan'."

Then he shook his head and went on, "That's not what I mean, Jim. He's been doin' some sort of research— his idea of fun, I suppose. And Evan gets the fastest response from Starfleet on a reference search I've ever seen. All I did was suggest he take advantage of her connections, whatever they are— and he practically bit my head off!"

"Spock? I don't believe you for a minute."

"All right, I'm exaggeratin'...but for Spock it was a snap. That haughty affronted look of his"— McCoy demonstrated, overplaying considerably— "'I am quite capable of conducting my own research, Dr. McCoy, and should I require assistance, I doubt that Dr. Wilson's would be appropriate.'"

"That's a snap, all right," Kirk agreed, "but then, you don't know what she's been doing to his pet computer. In fact, I can only guess...."

By the time the lift drew to bridge level, Jim Kirk had filled him in on what little he knew of the flags in Spock's computer. "D'you know," McCoy said, "the way he's been watchin' her, I was half expectin' her to jump up and go 'Boo!' at him. So here you are tellin' me she already has.... Well, that explains his behavior, but I'm sorry I missed seein' it."

"Cheer up, Bones. Maybe he hasn't found all her surprises yet."

The doors hissed open and they walked onto the bridge. McCoy reveled in the welcoming hellos and came at last to Chekov, who doffed his rakish nonregulation cap and offered a jaunty smile and a stubbly growth of new hair for his examination. "You're a lucky man, Mr. Chekov. You�ll be back in shape in no time," McCoy told him and added, chuckling to himself, "Blew it up his nose. That woman should have cards printed: 'Dr. Evan Wilson, Imaginative Medicine A Specialty."'

Sulu grinned at him. "Speaking of imaginative," he said, "is there really such a thing as the organ of Zuckerkandl, or have I been had?"

"The organ of Zuckerkandl? I'd say only one doctor in fifty even knows it exists. Am I bein' tested, Mr. Sulu?" McCoy eyed him suspiciously.

After a long, equally suspicious look back, Sulu said to Chekov, "It could be a conspiracy. I wouldn't put it past her to con Dr. McCoy into confirming it for her...."

From his console, Spock said, "Your conspiracy theory, Mr. Sulu, is unfounded. While it is a difficult reference to locate, the Starfleet medical library computers also confirm the existence of such an organ in the human anatomy."

"Evan," said McCoy and, smiling broadly at Spock, he added, "I see why you didn't want her assistance, Spock. Any computer she queries is automatically suspect. At least, that's what I hear from Jim. Put her in the one-in-fifty category and leave it at that."

"Your estimate, Doctor, is conservative almost to the point of inaccuracy."

McCoy raised an eyebrow. "If I were Evan, I'd take that as a compliment. Bein' McCoy, I'm goin' to chalk it up as one of your usual slurs, Spock."

"Captain," Uhura cut through, "I have Starfleet, sir. New orders."

"On the screen, Lieutenant."

Kirk listened with a growing sense of satisfaction: first came the general commendation his crew so richly deserved; second, the announcement of three weeks' much-needed shore leave, also richly deserved; third and best...

"...You are to report back to Eeiauo, to pick up and transport an Eeiauoan delegation to Sivao. A list of delegates follows."

They would all welcome the chance to see the outcome of the meeting between the two worlds, he knew. The name Sunfall of Ennien topped the list of delegates, and Jim Kirk could feel the radiance of Uhura's smile without turning.

When the screen blanked and he did turn, he found her smile had diminished. Pressing her earpiece to her ear, Uhura said, "Additional orders coming in from Starfleet Command, sir, for Dr. Wilson," then she held up her hand for a moment's grace. Spock stepped to his station and scrutinized his computer. It was odd, Kirk thought, but no odder than most of Spock's behavior concerning the doctor, and he let it pass without comment. Uhura lowered her hand and, frowning slightly, said, "She's to report to Laurel Station immediately."

"Immediately?" he repeated, taken aback, and McCoy muttered, "Starfleet," as if it were a word not used in polite company. Kirk said, "That's hardly fair. Ask them if they can wait three weeks."

Uhura brightened and returned to her console. But before she could translate his words into a formal request, Spock said, "One moment, Lieutenant," and she paused, startled by the command implicit in his tone. Spock went on, "Captain, if you will permit an observation? I believe Dr. Wilson has been anticipating these orders for some time now. She would no doubt appreciate your intention, but she would hardly consider the result a kindness."

McCoy studied him, then grinned to lighten the question: "Tryin' to get rid of her, Spock?"

"No, Doctor."

Kirk could read nothing in his face. I trust his judgment, he thought, and, waving a hand at Uhura, he said, "Let it go, Lieutenant. Pass the orders on to Dr. Wilson." Then he thought, I'm not so sure I trust his judgment on this one subject however, and added, subduing McCoy with a stare, "If she squawks, I�ll place the request."

 

But she did not squawk. Shortly thereafter she announced herself ready for departure. Jim Kirk eased his way through the thinning crowd of well-wishers on the shuttlecraft deck and found her, like her skiff, poised for departure. Spock was right, he thought, she's been waiting for this. "That anxious to leave us, Evan?" he asked, voicing it for the rest.

She shook her head; the smile she gave him was rueful. "No, Captain, not that. I haven't had so much fun in a long time, or met so many people I liked all in one place." She clasped both hands on her quarterstaff, the one that had served them all so well on Sivao, and leaned her cheek against it. "But you don't need me anymore," and glancing up at Spock, she once again produced that wicked grin of hers, and added, "And even a Vulcan's patience won't last forever."

McCoy guffawed. "All the more reason to stay, Evan—give us something' to look forward to! From what I've seen, you might just be the person to get through that stubborn front...."

Evan Wilson laughed and held out the quarterstaff to him. "For you, Leonard, in case you ever have to contend with a Vulcan patient." McCoy hesitated, taking the offer as a joke, but she pressed the staff into his hands. She hugged Uhura and Chapel, kissed Scotty and Sulu each on the cheek.

Chekov doffed his cap and held out his hand. Reddening self-consciously under the stubbly scalp his gallantry exposed, he said, "Good-bye, sair. We'll miss you."

"I�ll miss you too, Pavel," she said. "May I give you one last bit of medical advice, for safety's sake?"

Surprised, Chekov said, "Of course."

She leaned conspiratorially close to say: "Please take care when you get planetside. Women are going to be lining up to speak to you— and a great many of them will not be satisfied with speaking. Just be sure you get some rest between times." With that, she took his extended hand, pulled him toward her and gave him a kiss on the cheek as well. Chekov ducked his head, at once flustered and reassured.

"Don't I get a kiss too?" McCoy protested, "Seems to me a quarterstaff is hardly a fair trade...." Laughing, Evan stood on her toes to kiss him. "That's better," said McCoy, looking smug, then he added, "How about Jim? He could use a lift in morale, too, Doctor."

Jim Kirk grinned in anticipation as she turned his way. But, once again, he got the unexpected. Evan Wilson snapped to attention, saluted crisply and said, "Captain, it's been a pleasure to serve with you." Her blue eyes were bright with mischief. He returned the salute in kind and said, "The pleasure was mine, Dr. Wilson," and waited to see what she would do next.

She turned to Brightspot and said, "Hug?" Brightspot coiled her tail and cautiously embraced Evan, while McCoy gave her an outraged look on Kirk's behalf. Then Evan held Brightspot out at arm's length and said softly, "Don't forget, Brightspot."

Brightspot wrapped her tail around Evan's arm. "I won't, Tail-Kinker; I don't. I�ll see you at Ennien."

Evan Wilson nodded— and came at last to Spock. He stared down at her, the look on his face unreadable. It was a long moment before she spoke and, when she did, it was as if she took refuge in the formal language: "I regret we had no time for our experiments in the physiological effects of the Vulcan memory reading process. I have left detailed notes of my experience in the medical log. They are subjective, of course, but they may be of some use in suggesting an approach to formal research. Perhaps you and Dr. McCoy might—" She broke off suddenly but did not take her eyes from his face.

"Perhaps," he said, "although you would have been the better subject."

"I like that, Spock," said McCoy acidly.

Uncharacteristically, Spock made no response to McCoy. Still looking at Wilson, he said, "Thank you, Tail-Kinker to-Ennien. I have learned a great deal from our encounter."

"So have I," she said. "Next time I�ll be ready for you." The silence drew out between them, but no one dared to speak. "Mr. Spock," she said again, "Thank you for...everything. I owe you." Reddening suddenly, she looked away. "Clear the deck, people! Jamie and I have to be on our way!" She started for the skiff.

Last to the hatch in his reluctance to see her leave, Kirk paused before clearing the shuttlecraft deck. And, as he turned for one final glimpse of her, Evan Wilson shouted, "Hey, Jim!" and raced toward him. He was so surprised when she leapt to throw her arms around his neck that he caught and held her purely by reflex. She kissed him soundly on the cheek. Then, laughing, she lowered herself to the deck, much like one of Catchclaw�s children scrambling down, threw her head back to look challengingly into his eyes and said, "I�ll see you again, Jim— you may not see me, but I�ll see you!" She gave one last wicked grin, turned again and darted back to her ship.

"Much better," said McCoy, lounging smugly just outside the hatch. He and Kirk exchanged grins.

"A proper good-bye," agreed Kirk.

From the airlock of her skiff, Evan Wilson yelled, "Hey, Leonard, shut the door! Were you born in a barn?"

"Yeah," McCoy yelled back, as Kirk stepped hastily past him, "and every time I hear a donkey bray, I get homesick!" At that, Evan crowed with delight and blew them each a kiss.

Kirk himself dogged the hatch, then followed the others to the observation bay to watch as the Dr. James Barry slipped from the shuttlecraft deck and sped away. Scott said to Sulu, "Y'see, laddie, Orsay didna once touch th' tractor beams. She's a fine captain, is th' lass, as b'fits her Jamie."

Kirk, who had been treated to a loving description of "her Jamie," knew high praise when he heard it, but he saw that her performance only bewildered Spock further. Quietly, he said, "About the pulsars, Spock, I can explain that— later."

"Indeed? I should be most grateful."

Something in Spock's expression made Jim Kirk look twice. Had it been anyone but Spock, he'd have thought him in need of cheering. Illogical or not, he found he could not shake the peculiar sensation and, as he walked to the lift beside his first officer, he acted on it, deliberately drawing from Evan Wilson's bag of tricks. "Well," he began, "I guess that wraps up all the loose ends but one. I never found out the answer, and now I suppose I never will."

He waited for Spock's query, got it. "Nothing important, Spock"— he waved his hand nonchalantly— "just a riddle she posed me." He had Spock's full attention now, so he laughed and set the final hook: "I had intended to ask you, to see what you could make of it."

"By all means, ask. I would be most interested to hear this 'riddle'."

"The first time we met, I asked Evan why she had taken up saber as a hobby, and she said 'for the same reason I took up quarterstaff and eating with chopsticks.' Make any sense to you, Spock, or is it as illogical as it sounds?" But as he asked, he realized the answer lay in her willingness to learn anything and everything, from Sivaoan emergency medicine to chipping out a spearhead.

"Illogical, Captain? Hardly," Spock said.

Kirk was taken aback: Spock clearly saw the riddle as a riddle and had found his own solution. "You mean there is some connection I'm missing? Saber, quarterstaff, chopsticks?"

"There is."

Kirk waited for him to expand on that. When he did not, Kirk eyed him warily and, in the time-honored tradition of the riddle, patiently repeated his query, "All right, Spock, I�ll bite: why would she take up saber, quarterstaff and eating with chopsticks?"

"To extend her reach."

 

Chief Engineer Montgomery Scott found himself looking forward to his extended shore leave with somewhat mixed feelings. He had hoped to do a great deal of carousing with McCoy and Wilson— and to introduce Rushlight to the delights of their company. But Rushlight had remained on Eeiauo, looking after his newfound kin. Well, they had more need of a bard; Scotty could hardly begrudge them that. He did begrudge Starfleet's decision to transfer Evan without giving her leave, though, and he much resented being deprived of her company.

He answered the door absently and found himself staring at Uhura.

"May I come in for a moment, Mr. Scott?"

"0' course, lass. Sit down. What can I do for ye?"

She remained standing, shyly. She said, "You did it already, Mr. Scott. It was your idea to use Sunfall's songs to find Sivao. I...I wanted to thank you."

"Lass," he said, admonishing, "ye did all th' work: ye an' Mr. Spock...."

"I still—" She broke off, began again. "Mr. Scott, were you serious when you said you'd like to hear me sing those songs? The ribald ones, I mean?" she added.

Scotty understood her immediately. He was at once enormously flattered and somewhat shocked by her offer. He said quickly but firmly, "Ye're a lady, Lieutenant. I wouldna ask...I know it wouldna be half th' joy for ye I'd find it. I�ll not encourage ye, but I�ll thank ye w' all my heart for the thought."

She said, "This is for you, Mr. Scott." She held out a small wrapped package and pressed it into his hand. "Thank you." With grave dignity, she turned and left, leaving Scotty puzzling over the item she'd given him.

When the door had closed behind her, Scotty sat down and unwrapped the package. It was a tape. He turned it over in his palm, as if this visual inspection would give some clue to its contents. When it did not, he slipped the tape into the computer and struck the play button.

At once, his quarters were filled with music. He recognized the joyeuse immediately, though it took him somewhat longer to place the second instrument as Rushlight's lute. Uhura's voice rang out from the tape, and it startled Scotty into a peal of laughter. He could hardly credit his ears. It was as ribald a song as he'd heard on any world— and twice as merry, for he'd never heard such a thing sung by someone with so clear, so full a voice.

By the time Uhura reached the chorus and her voice was joined by Evan Wilson's, Rushlight's and what could only have been Sunfall's, Scotty was roaring with joy and stamping his foot in time to the music. Aye, he thought, as his own private chorus began a second song, ye're a lady t' y'r fingertips, Uhura, but ye've the heart and th'style of a bard.

Scotty took out the bottle of Tau Cetiian verguzz with which Evan Wilson had, over his protests, replaced his Jubalan rum and poured himself a drink. The Enterprise might well be forty-eight hours from the nearest port for R and R, but shore leave was off to a rousing start.

 

Jim Kirk laid aside his finished report and frowned. In a few hours, the Enterprise would be in orbit, the first shore leave parties would be beaming down, and he would be expected to relax and enjoy himself. He was not looking forward to it. He had planned to spend a good deal of time with Evan, and now...He rose from the desk in his quarters and, without really thinking about it, headed down to sick bay.

In comparison to the last few times he had been there, the place seemed deserted. He glanced around for McCoy and, as he did, his eyes fell on a handful of sensors heaped on top of a cabinet. Odd that Evan and Spock never got around to those experiments, he thought. Given their mutual interest in the subject, the omission seemed almost deliberate. Certainly not for lack of time. She had a gift for using time to her advantage. He smiled ruefully to himself and added, I wish I'd done that.

From McCoy's office, a voice, sounding much harassed, called: "They're right where you left them, Spock. Be my guest."

"If you're looking for Spock, I think you�ll find him in briefing room A. Brightspot cornered him with some physics questions."

"Lookin' for him," McCoy snorted, appearing at the door of his office. "Not me! Good kid, Brightspot, I hope she has a lot of questions.... Y'know, Jim, that's probably the only good thing Starfleet Command has done all year— lettin' us sign her on as supercargo till we head back to Sivao."

Thinking, They might have left us Evan, Jim Kirk nodded abstractedly. McCoy appraised him from head to toe and said, "Exactly as I thought," in a tone of voice that caught his attention where the scrutiny had not. Surprised, he said, "Problem, Bones?"

"You," said McCoy, "Spock," as if that said it all. Then, because it did not, he added, "I want you both in the first shore leave party."

"I don't think—" Kirk was about to say that shore leave was not what he needed, but McCoy reached to one side and drew out the quarterstaff Evan had given him. He advanced on Kirk, waggling the staff, and repeated, "I want you in the first shore leave party." There was nothing Kirk could do but laugh and acquiesce.

McCoy's expression softened. "Well, how about that?" he drawled. "It works!" He gave the staff an experimental swing and struck himself on the ankle. "Ow! Maybe I'd better practice up before tryin' it on Spock."

"Maybe you'd better," Kirk agreed and, thinking of Evan, he added critically, "The expression could use some practice too. I've seen fiercer."

"For Spock, I can manage. He's been drivin' me to distraction."

"That's normal."

McCoy raised an eyebrow. "Not this way, it isn't. He's been in and out of sick bay a dozen times, lookin' over Evan Wilson's log notes as if he expected to find somethin' new added each time. And I have had to answer some of the damndest questions about human behavior you ever heard!"

"Bones..."

"It's hardly my imagination, Jim! If you don't believe me, ask Scotty. He got the third degree from our Vulcan friend on the subject of 'her Jamie' and then spent another twenty minutes tryin' to explain why Evan would take Orsay's wish to turn space pirate as a compliment!"

That brought a smile to Jim Kirk's face. "Poor Spock! Just when he thought he had human beings all figured out.... Evan said Spock brought out the worst in her. You'd have enjoyed it— I believe she actually bedeviled him more than you do."

"She did a damn sight more than bedevil him. I think she's got him bewitched." Put in those terms, the idea clearly pleased McCoy. But then, sobering, he added, "All I know is that he doesn't often ask my opinion— not Spock. M'Benga assures me he's completely recovered from his pneumonia, so I can't attribute it to that. If it weren't Spock doin' it, I'd take it for broodin'— the same way you're broodin'. I don't know what to make of it."

"I'm not sure I'd call it brooding," Kirk said, somewhat defensively. But seeing that McCoy's concern was serious, he gave the matter some thought and hit upon the obvious solution. "I�ll tell you what, Bones— if it doesn't insult your professional pride, why don't you ask for a second opinion?" He waited expectantly.

It took McCoy only a moment to catch on, then he laughed. "Evan Wilson," he said.

"Evan Wilson," Kirk confirmed, and he gestured McCoy toward the communications screen in his office.

"Just a minute, Jim. What about Spock?"

Kirk shook his head. If McCoy were really worried about Spock, he wanted Evan's genuine opinion, and he wouldn't get it if Spock were present. "Let's speak to Evan first," he said. "If she wants Spock, she'll ask for him. She's not shy."

"Hardly— but it wasn't Evan I was thinkin' about." At Kirk's look, McCoy finished, "All right, Evan first."

He led the way back into his office. While he pulled up an extra chair and— thoughtfully— brought out some brandy and glasses, Kirk had Uhura arrange the call. Several minutes went by, more slowly than usual, and just as he had decided his anticipation was coloring his judgment, Uhura said, "I'm sorry, sir. I can't seem to clear the interference— I have no idea what's causing it. It looks like some sort of jamming, but it's not strong enough to disrupt communications."

"Never mind, Lieutenant. If it's good enough to speak, carry on. We can worry about what's causing the problem later."

Within a moment, she said, "I have Dr. Wilson's office, sir."

"I�ll take it here." He had no intention of exposing Spock to the kind of crew rumor McCoy's queries might launch.

The screen brightened. The interference pattern she complained of was distracting, to be sure; it spread across the entire screen like a glittering stylized star. He understood her puzzlement: it seemed too regular not to be deliberate, yet the image behind it was clear.

He saw a typical Starfleet sick bay, somewhat larger than the Enterprise�s own. Smiling out at him was a tall slender black man dressed in a uniform identical to McCoy's. "Captain Kirk," he said. "This is an honor, sir. Forgive me for speaking from here," he gestured broadly around him, "but we're still cleaning up the last of the ADF cases— but you know all about that! What can I do for you, sir? Name it and it's yours!"

There was definitely something of Evan Wilson's manner in him. Almost sorry he didn't have a request to match the enthusiasm of the young man's offer, Jim Kirk shook his head. "Nothing so earth-shaking," he said, "I only wanted to speak to Dr. Evan Wilson."

The young man grinned, sketched a bow. "Well," he said, "here I am— and I repeat the offer." It was as if Jim Kirk held in his hands an antique Chinese puzzle, and with those words, the last piece snapped into place and he saw the whole. He heard again her responses as Spock questioned her background. He had the sudden and most surprising thought that she had never once lied, only misdirected.

McCoy said, "Damned interference is affectin' the sound, too. Better tell Uhura." He reached for the intercom.

Jim Kirk caught his hand. "Sit still, Bones. That's an order." His intentional sharpness stunned McCoy into silence. "I apologize for the static, Dr. Wilson," he said smoothly, to the stranger on the screen. "This mission has been something of a strain"— he smiled— "and I'm afraid my crew is still blowing off steam."

The young man shook his head. "Don't apologize, Captain. I wouldn't dare tell you what I intend to do once I get all these vaccinations finished— but I assure you blowing off steam is the least of it!"

"Then I won't keep you long, Doctor." Kirk sought a plausible explanation for his call and found one: "This is something of a spot check— to convince Dr. McCoy that the Sivaoan solution is still working."

"Elath, yes!" He glanced slightly to Kirk's left. "Dr. McCoy?"— and when McCoy nodded in a disconcerted fashion, he went on, "I've got about a hundred patients that owe you and the Wilson-Chapel serum their lives, sir. As for the Sivaoan solution— damn, but you people are good!— it's nothing short of a miracle!" He lapsed into medical jargon that kept McCoy nodding for some time. Only someone who knew Bones well could have told that his interest was feigned.

When the image on the screen had finished, McCoy thanked him politely; so did Jim Kirk. The young man shook his head vehemently: "Don't thank me— let me thank you!" — again he sketched a bow— "You people did all the work! Keep me in mind, Captain, Dr. McCoy, if there's ever anything I can do for you. I owe you big!"

Having assured him they would, Kirk terminated the conversation. The screen went dark, but Jim Kirk continued to stare at it for a long moment. He found himself grinning because a Telamonite had sworn by a goddess— and wondered if the young man also used a quarterstaff. That he thought somehow unlikely, but he wished he could have asked.

"Just who the hell is he?" demanded McCoy, rising indignantly to his feet, "and where's Evan? Call Starfleet Command, Jim, and tell them they've got an impostor on their hands!" Jim Kirk opened his mouth, but could think of nothing to say, and closed it again. McCoy glared at him, then snapped, "Well, if you won't do something about him, I most certainly will." Once again, he reached for the intercom.

"You believe him an impostor," said a voice from behind them. "Fascinating." And they both turned, McCoy distracted from his intent, to find Spock watching them with open interest. Beside him, bristling with alarm, stood Brightspot. There was no way to tell how long they had been there, but Jim Kirk knew their presence was much more than coincidence.

"What would you call it, Spock?" McCoy growled. "I grant you, he does it well— even sounds a bit like her— but he's certainly not in her league."

"Oh lord," said Jim Kirk, without meaning to, "you can say that again!" Spock raised an eyebrow at him; and, inordinately pleased to have so surprised his first officer, Kirk went on, "You tell him, Spock. I don't have the heart."

"You're tryin' to say there's some other explanation? Then let's hear it, Spock. I'm waitin'."

Spock said evenly, "I believe Brightspot is prepared to offer one, Doctor."

That explains the odd interference pattern, Kirk thought, Another flag— one designed to be easily seen by a Sivaoan eye. Brightspot's tail shivered, and Kirk said reassuringly, "Don't be afraid, Brightspot. Just tell us what you know."

"You ccalled Dr. Evan Wilsson...."

"We did, dammit," said McCoy. "We didn't get her." He was dangerously near another explosion, and Brightspot bristled more noticeably.

"Take it easy, Bones," said Kirk, firmly enough to interrupt the momentum of McCoy's outrage. "Don't scare her."

"I have no intention of scarin' her. I just want to know what this is all about. Now, will somebody please get on with it?"

"Ccaptain—?" Brightspot began again, hesitantly. "Tail-Kinkker ssaid you wouldn't be angry at me—"

"No one's angry at you," Kirk said soothingly, and she paused to preen her shoulder. While her fur settled, Kirk kept a wary eye on McCoy to prevent a further outburst.

At last Brightspot said, "— But she ssaid you'd probably be very angry at her. Ccaptain, don't be, please." Her tail rose hopefully.

"I promise you I�ll do my best. Tail-Kinker is my friend too, remember?" He smiled.

The small joke reassured her more than anything else he might have done. She straightened herself to attention, took a deep breath, and said, "I have a message from Tail-Kinkker to-Ennien to those who ccalled Dr. Evan Wilsson." Her unblinking stare surveyed them all; her tail shivered once more.

When she spoke again, her voice held something of Evan's intonation: "I knew you'd ccatch me out eventually— Mr. Sspock has a to-Ennien tail. I've left a tape. Mr. Sspock will know where to find it if he gives the matter a little thought. All my love, whether you want it or not. Tail-Kinkker to-Ennien."

"Well, Spock?" Kirk said, "Do you know where to find this tape of Evan's?" He had nothing else to call her; unlike Brightspot, he couldn't think of her as Tail-Kinker.

As if to justify her words, Spock did give the matter a moment's more thought. "Yes, Captain," he said at last, "I believe I do." He stepped to the console— Kirk and McCoy right behind him— and spoke to the central computer. The odd interference pattern still glittered across the screen. Kirk watched over his shoulder as Spock accessed a private file.

The interference pattern vanished. "Fascinating," said Spock, eliciting a sputter from McCoy.

Kirk said, "What is it?"

"The file was for my eyes only, Captain. Tail-Kinker to-Ennien not only gained access to it but, in so doing, circumvented the flag I set to signal any such attempt. A remarkable display of programming sophistication."

"I�ll give you a remarkable display of something if you don't get on with it, Spock," McCoy growled. Brightspot hissed a warning and edged away. Kirk caught her tail and stroked the end of it, but she kept him between herself and McCoy.

"Calm yourself, Doctor," Spock advised. "This may take some time. She has, to all appearances, set another flag of her own."

"Trip it," Kirk said. "I want to hear this and I want to hear it now."

"As you wish." Spock keyed the computer. It responded with a sudden fanfare of trumpets, causing Spock to lift his brow and McCoy to purple.

The screen sprang to life with an image of the Enterprise�s own Evan Wilson. "Hello, Mr. Spock." Her eyes were merry. "You do nice work: it's taken me three hours to beat your flag, and I enjoyed every minute of it."

Spock's brow shot up again. "Three hours," he said, almost to himself.

McCoy growled again, "Quiet, Spock."

The image on the screen continued, "A few explanations are in order— but only a few." She gave that wicked grin and Kirk caught himself grinning back. "If you're watching this, the chances are good that you've just spoken to the real Dr. Evan Wilson. Don't pick on the man. It's not his fault I liked his name. His Starfleet dossier is appended to the tape, and I think you�ll find he's as good at what he does as I am at what I do."

A strangled sound came from McCoy.

The face on the screen turned solemn. "Mr. Spock, I don't know if this is important to you...but it is to me. I take what I do seriously, and I've done nothing to jeopardize relations between the Federation and the Sivaoans. Ask Brightspot if you don't believe me. And, transfer dossier aside, I only lied to you once— because it seemed the truth to me at the time."

She hesitated, reddened as if she could see the long thoughtful look Spockgave her image, then said, "If you will recall our conversation regarding possible misinterpretations between the Vulcan and human cultures..." As if in direct response, Spock nodded, and the image went on, "I said I'd get over it. Now I find I'm just contrary enough to appreciate the effect. There's small harm in that under the circumstances, so I might as well enjoy it."

She raised her hand in the Vulcan salute and said a few words in Spock's harsh native tongue. Spock returned the gesture.

Rising from the recording console, she took a step backward and Kirk saw that she no longer wore the uniform of a Starfleet doctor. She was dressed instead in a lace shirt over flowing blue trousers tucked in turn into knee-high boots. Like an illustration in a fairy-tale, Kirk thought and then, It suits her. At her waist, beneath an elaborately embroidered vest, she still carried the knife Stiff Tail had given her. He understood it to mean that she would honor her pledge to the Sivaoan.

"You see, Brightspot?" she said. "I promised you'd be there when I pulled the captain's tail. Tell him, my hat's off to him and to the crew of the U.S.S. Enterprise." She bowed low, sweeping the floor with her plumed hat. Without meaning to, Jim Kirk laughed out loud. "Tail-Kinker to-Ennien out," she finished, smiling out of the screen.

A Starfleet Command personnel dossier appeared, the picture of the real Dr. Evan Wilson replacing that of the spurious. Spock glanced at him; Kirk shook his head and Spock turned to cancel the rest of the file.

"Oh, good," said Brightspot, "you're not mad at Tail-Kinkker."

"I guess I'm not," Kirk admitted with a grin. "What about you, Brightspot? Do you understand what that meant?" He need not have asked: her tail was so tightly curled that it might well have been painful— the Sivaoan equivalent of laughing until your sides hurt. A happy ending for her at last, he thought, but had the good taste not to say it aloud.

"I understand," she said, "I didn't know Sstarfleet had people like CloudShape. I'm glad for you." She arched her whiskers forward. "I'm glad for me too; I never met a real one before!"

McCoy exploded, "Never met a real what before?" and Brightspot jumped back, to peer at him from behind Kirk.

"Trickster," she said. "Is that the right word, Mr. Sspock?"

"I believe the term is accurate in this instance," Spock said.

McCoy glared at Spock, glared at Kirk. "What the hell are you all talkin' about?"

Very gently, Kirk said, "She's the impostor, Bones."

"She's a doctor, dammit, not an impostor!" McCoy glared at them all again.

"The captain did not say she was not a doctor," Spock pointed out, "only that she was not Dr. Evan Wilson."

This mollified McCoy not at all. He poured himself a glass of brandy, downed it and resumed his glaring. Jim Kirk studied his old friend with considerable amusement and no little sympathy. Then he said, "What about that call to Starfleet Command, Bones? Still want to make it?"

His mind still bent on outrage, McCoy did not at first grasp the import of the question. When he did, he looked shocked. "Lord, no, Jim!" he said. "Are you out of your ever-lovin' mind?" His eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Unless, of course, you intend that as an order, Captain."

Jim Kirk laughed and raised his hands in surrender. "No, Bones, no!" he protested. "There's no need to take my name in vain! Although this does raise certain problems."

"Such as what?" McCoy's manner was still defensive.

"Such as how I request a commendation for someone who wasn't officially here."

McCoy dropped his defensiveness, chuckled. "I see what you mean, Jim. Y'know, you mentioned somethin' about commendations for Brightspot and Another StarFreedom. Seems to me Tail-Kinker to-Ennien is just as deservin'— and what Starfleet assumes is up to Starfleet."

"Misdirection," said Kirk thoughtfully, and McCoy stared back at him with such innocence that he couldn't resist adding, "I might think she'd been a bad influence on my senior officers, if I didn't know them as well as I do."

His innocence clearly injured by this, McCoy said, "I have a report of my own to write." His southern accent flared up, as it so often did when he was planning some mischief: "Just makin' sure there are no discrepancies...."

"No," Kirk said smiling, "I don't foresee any discrepancies. Do you, Mr. Spock?"

"Oh, Lord," groaned McCoy, "I forgot: Vulcans don't lie!" He advanced on Spock— and Kirk braced himself for one more diatribe on the heartlessness of Vulcans. Instead McCoy said, "Your behavior's been a bit unusual lately, Mr. Spock. How are you feelin'? Why don't I just check you into sick bay— don't worry about your report, Jim can take care of that—so I can do a few tests. At a guess, I'd say you're not fully recovered...."

Spock froze him with a glance. "Your concern is unnecessary, Doctor. My report mentions Dr. Wilson only in the capacity of acting chief medical officer."

"Well," said McCoy, "so far so good. But suppose somebody asks him, Jim? What then?"

Kirk looked at his first officer's unreadable face and knew, with a sudden surety, that Spock had tripped the last of Evan's flags deliberately, to warn her that he was aware of her imposture, and that he had kept silent even when Evan ignored his warning to finish what she had started. "Even a Vulcan's patience won't last forever," he quoted. There was no change in Spock's expression. Kirk went on, "Don't worry about it, Bones. Starfleet won't know the right questions to ask— will they, Mr. Spock?"

"It would seem unlikely, Captain."

"I didn't even ask the right question." Jim Kirk folded his arms across his chest and, smiling, said, "Let's have it, Spock. What do you know about... our Evan Wilson that I don't?"

"Very little, Captain, and it is at most conjecture."

McCoy's jaw dropped but all that came out was the single word, "Spock!

Kirk said, "I'm willing to entertain conjecture, Mr. Spock. Continue."

"Your own speculation, Captain, led me to investigate the history of the Bodner lines. Your intuition proved correct."

"Bodner lines," said McCoy, "aren't they something in the Enterprise innards?" He eyed Spock warily. "I don't get it, Jim. What's this got to do with Evan?"

Kirk said, "Evan asked Scotty to check out the Bodner lines on her skiff. I don't get it either, Spock."

"Bear with me a moment. The Bodner lines, doctor, were developed five years ago to replace the older, much less reliable Wascoli lines. They are called Bodner lines because their design drew heavily on the computer simulation work of Martha R. Bodner. It is a curious fact, however, that during the development of the lines that bear her name, Lieutenant Martha R. Bodner of Starfleet Science Division was elsewhere, engaged in a quite different project."

"Are you seriously suggesting that our Evan Wilson also designed the Bodner lines?"

"I am, Captain. I took the liberty of speaking to Lieutenant Chris Megson, who assisted on that project. I have every reason to believe that our 'Evan Wilson', as you put it, and his 'Martha Bodner' are one and the same."

"Good grief, Spock! Let's not tell Scotty— I have no idea how he'd take it!"

Spock fell silent. For a moment the silence lengthened, then McCoy said, "That's all? All that time you were doin' research and that's all you found out? You are slippin', Spock!"

"Bones..."

"Dammit, Jim, now he's got me curious!"

Spock said, "I shall of course continue my investigation."

"You�ll do nothin' of the sort!" McCoy said.

And Spock raised a brow. "Really, Doctor, I find your abrupt change of attitude most illogical. First you berate me for my lack of information— and now you insist I discontinue my investigations?" He turned to Kirk for assistance.

Kirk said, "I'm as curious as you are, Spock, but Bones is right— there's too much risk to go poking around in her background." Brightspot's ears flicked back, and he added hastily, "I mean, risk to Evan, Brightspot. We may not be angry at her, but I couldn't say the same for Starfleet Command if they found out what she's been up to."

"Oh!" said Brightspot and a ridge of fur at the nape of her neck rose briefly, then smoothed. Solemnly, she said, "I�ll tell it only with my tail," and her tail corkscrewed.

"I take it that's a promise," Kirk said smiling. "Spock?"

"Captain, you yourself suggested I should not wish to... disappoint her."

"I thought she was pulling your tail. I didn't realize she was pulling mine and Starfleet's," Kirk began.

McCoy, who had been watching Spock, interrupted: "What d'you mean, Spock?"

"You do not speak Vulcan; consequently, you assume— as she no doubt intended you to assume— that her last words to me were 'Live long and prosper'. They were not, as your own medical log would verify if you so desire it."

"Medical log," McCoy repeated.

And Spock clarified, "Specifically, that portion of it describing the memory that Tail-Kinker to-Ennien drew from my mind."

"I read the damned thing three times," growled McCoy, "tryin' to figure out what you were lookin' for."

Kirk too had read Evan's report. He seldom heard anything in the way of personal memories from Spock and his curiosity had gotten the better of him. To Brightspot, he explained, "Mr. Spock taught Evan a kind of Vulcan hide-and-seek...."

He straightened suddenly and, with dawning amazement, stared at Spock. Twice he had heard the formal words that began the game: once in Evan's meticulous description, and the second time— the second time, only moments ago, as she raised her hand in the Vulcan salute. "Oh lord, Bones," he burst out, "She dared him to find her!"

"She dared him...!" McCoy began— and finished, gaping.

"The word dare is hardly appropriate," Spock said. "The phrase is rather an invitation or a declaration of intent." He looked thoughtful, added, "Given her manner, however, I do find it understandable that a human would interpret this as a challenge."

McCoy beamed at him and drawled, "And you're goin' to take her up on it." Brightspot, echoing his good humor, wrapped her tail around his arm. He patted it jovially. "Well, well, Mr. Spock...I believe there's hope for you yet!"

Spock stared back at him with utter incomprehension, and Jim Kirk knew that any explanation of his own or McCoy's delight would only serve to baffle him further. "Never mind, Spock," he said, "You may continue your investigation. Keep it discreet, and keep us posted on the results... informally, of course."

"Of course, Captain."

It was so seriously said that Jim Kirk could not resist adding, with a smile, "Far be it from me to spoil your fun." And to his great surprise, for once Spock made no objection to his choice of words.

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