Star Trek - TOS 021 - Uhura's Song

by Uhura's Song

  She made an effort to control her laughter. Finally she gasped out, "It is- impossible to work up a satisfactory anger at someone who so steadfastly refuses to reciprocate. You win, Mr. Spock; I give up. After all these years, I've finally found somebody I can't bully." She shook her head and gave another delighted peal of laughter. "I still owe you a watch, though. Don't you dare forget it."

  That was the first thing she'd said that Spock understood. "You are under no obligation for my decision, Dr. Wilson. I fail to understand how my actions place you in my debt...."

  The situation had gone far enough, Kirk decided. He said, "Never mind, Mr. Spock. Dr. Wilson, you'll take Mr. Spock's watch tonight. That should satisfy you." Before she could reply, he added, "That's an order."

  She gave him her wickedest grin. "Standing Spock's watch or being satisfied, sir?"

  "Both," he said, grinning back.

  Their second day's journey was- thankfully- uneventful. They camped by a small stream and finished off the grabfoots, rubbed with tail-kinkers from a tree that Brightspot had sniffed out. Spock dined on berries and fruits they had picked along the way.

  The drizzle had not abated, but Kirk still considered them lucky. The roiling, muddy stream told him that up country it was raining hard.

  From Brightspot's reaction whenever he suggested she wash the alcohol from her fur, he had expected the Sivaoans would avoid rain if it was at all possible, but the drizzle bothered them less than it did the humans. They objected only when they could not avoid a puddle and were forced to get their feet wet. The rest of the time, they scarcely noticed it, fluffing their fur against the slight chill and shaking free the few droplets that clung to them.

  This time, the party made a single large canopy over the fire. Kirk pored over Distant Smoke's map with them and made plans for the following day. Uhura sang a few songs before they retired; it had already become a traditional way of ending their day. Despite the acrid smell of smoke, they all slept beside the fire; the warmth was comforting.

  Evan Wilson woke him in the morning with a cheerful, "Rain's let up, Captain."

  "So it has." He rose and stretched with as much attention as Brightspot or Jinx would have devoted to the process. "I take it you had a quiet watch?"

  "Aside from a lot of thunder and lightning upstream, I've got no complaints." She threw some more wood on the fire and poked it into flame.

  "Satisfied?" he asked with a smile.

  "As the captain ordered," she said, smiling back. She proffered a handful of sharpened green sticks and together the two of them began to skewer fruit for roasting.

  Kirk said, "Then satisfy my curiosity...what did you mean when you told Spock you'd found someone you couldn't bully?"

  "I'm not sure I want to give away trade secrets, Captain." She paused in her task and gave him a long look. "Well, I suppose there's no harm. It works on an unconscious rather than a conscious level."

  The first roasted fruits had begun to spit and sizzle. Kirk turned them over. When he looked up again, Spock stood behind Wilson.

  He said, "I too would be interested in an explanation for your words, Dr. Wilson."

  She craned up at him. "For your edification then, Mr. Spock; it certainly doesn't work on you. You're aware, Captain, of the disadvantages I suffer by being so small in comparison to the average human. What I seldom point out are the psychological advantages I can take when faced with somebody twice my size." She pulled a shishkabob from the fire and handed it to Spock, then she went on, "The first advantage is surprise. People do underestimate me."

  "Stiff Tail most certainly did," Spock said. "She did not expect you to retaliate if cuffed."

  "That was also because kids don't hit adults back, Mr. Spock, so I'm not sure that counts as a good example. It says more for her culture than mine."

  "Indeed. Please continue."

  "Please eat, Mr. Spock. I won't have it said I delayed our start." Spock obeyed. Wilson handed a second skewer to Kirk and passed one to Brightspot, who had just joined them.

  "The second advantage," Wilson said, "is the Machiavellian advantage. I can walk up to a ten-foot-tall Horrovan in any bar in the universe and tell him his father was a Tullian and walk away unscathed."

  "That would seem difficult to believe, Dr. Wilson, given the belligerent nature of the Horrovan society and the severity of the insult you describe."

  "Nevertheless I could do it, and the Horrovan wouldn't dare lay a hand on me. Instead he would politely correct me, attempt to placate me, and, if that failed, he'd drink up and find another bar." She shook her head, smiling. "You don't get it because it's illogical, Mr. Spock. How about it, Captain?"

  Kirk considered the image of Evan Wilson insulting the Horrovan and suddenly recalled his own mixed feelings when she had confronted Spock. He laughed, and she looked pleased. "Yes," she said, "I see you do. Then I'll let you explain it to Mr. Spock, while I roust the rest of these slugabeds."

  Spock waited expectantly, and Jim Kirk explained, "Even with all that provocation, our hypothetical Horrovan wouldn't attempt to harm her. If he so much as raised a paw to threaten her, every human and every other Horrovan in the bar would rise to protect her." He laughed again. "And every one of them would begin with the challenge. 'Why don't you pick on somebody your own size, buster?'"

  "I believe I have seen such an encounter as you describe. Mr. Scott and Dr. McCoy both used just those words- however..."

  "Something puzzles you, Spock?"

  "Yes. Neither Mr. Scott nor Dr. McCoy was an equivalent height or weight to the human they challenged."

  "It's the thought that counts. I would assume they were both larger than the person being threatened? Yes-so they were simply reminding the larger antagonist of the cultural strictures against his actions."

  "Fascinating," said Spock, "although I fail to understand why Dr. Wilson should wish to, as she puts it, bully me."

  That deserves an answer, Kirk thought, sought one and saw Leonard McCoy in his mind's eye. "For the same reason Bones does," he said. "He's always trying to bully you- or at least goad you into an emotional reaction. You must admit you make the temptation almost irresistible."

  "As I do not understand your meaning, I can admit nothing of the sort."

  "He means if you hang your tail from a tree branch, somebody's going to pull it," contributed Brightspot. "Right?"

  "That's not quite how I'd put it, Brightspot, but that's very close to what I mean. Human beings, and Sivaoans too, it seems, have a bad habit of wanting to perturb the unperturbed- or the unperturbable," Kirk said and, with a sidelong glance at the returned Wilson, "in any event, being bullied is the least of your worries, Spock. From what I've seen of her, if bullying won't work on you, she'll stop bullying-"

  "Exactly," she said, with a shrug that was deliberately comic. "Why waste time and effort? It would be illogical."

  "-And try something else," Kirk finished. "If I were you, I'd worry about her next tactic."

  Spock and Brightspot took point for the early part of the day, and Kirk brought up the rear with Evan Wilson. Talk was relegated to meals: the terrain took too much attention and, more importantly, they had to listen with both ears for the warning sounds of any predators. But shortly after he had passed the word forward to Spock to find a spot for a breather, Wilson caught his arm and startled him by saying, in a whisper, "Captain, Chekov isn't ordinarily this clumsy, is he?"

  "No, he's not. He says he's stiff from sleeping on the ground."

  "That's what he told me, too." She scowled and inched along, devoting her primary attention to avoiding a stand of sweet-stripes- or so he thought, until she demanded, "Is he? You know him better than I do. Could that be the cause?"

  He had seen Chekov under worse conditions than these but- he thought of Chekov's drawn face- and he shook his head. "Let's hear it, Evan," he said, knowing from the expression on her face that he would not like what he heard.

  "He walks like the Eeiauoans, Captain."


  Kirk stopped to face her; a sapling he had pushed aside snapped back with a whiplike sound. "ADF? He said he had no contact with any Eeiauoan."

  "That he knew," said Wilson. She hugged her quarterstaff.

  "What do you advise, Evan? Should we turn back?"

  She shook her head vehemently. "Catchclaw's in Sretalles, Captain; so are the communicators. Even if I knew for certain Chekov had ADF syndrome, I couldn't do anything for him except quarantine him." She shook her staff suddenly, much in the manner of a Sivaoan twisting her own tail. "I can't even do that- we haven't got a code to cover it. We'd expose anybody who met us in the transporter room."

  "Scotty..."

  "Scotty," she confirmed grimly.

  A halloo echoed through the forest; the rest of the party had gone on ahead. Kirk called an answer to reassure Spock, as the two of them, in silence, hurried to catch up. They found the rest of the party in a mossy glen, sprawled or sitting, each on the softest spot he or she could find. Chekov shifted restlessly, as if unable to make himself comfortable. Next to him, Kirk found a little hillock and sat. "Mr. Chekov," he said, "is your back still giving you trouble?"

  "Yes, sair." Chekov looked embarrassed. "I em merely stiff, Keptain. I hev no difficulty with the walking."

  "Dr. Wilson, have a look, will you?"

  He made the request as innocuous as possible, and Wilson matched his tone with an easy, "Sure thing, Captain."

  Chekov made a mild protest, but Wilson gave him a wicked look. "Come on- it's not as if I'm asking you to chop wood!" and, when he stared at her in astonishment, she added, "You're not the only one who can quote old Russians...." At that, Chekov could only laugh and acquiesce to her poking and prodding.

  "How long has it been bothering you, Mr. Chekov?"

  "I didn't really notice it until the day we left Stiff Tail's kemp, sair. I em not accustomed to sleeping on the ground."

  "You and me both," she said, grinning, "I bet an Enterprise bunk would play the same havoc with Brightspot's or Jinx's back. Any trouble with your vision at all?"

  Kirk saw Spock's head come up sharply at that, but the query only embarrassed Chekov to admit, "Sparkles, sair- I em out of shape. I hev not been exercising regularly."

  She clucked her tongue at him, then pushed back his sleeves and ran her hands over his forearms. She made one final check, this time with her sensor; then, rising, she looked at Kirk and waited.

  "Straight, Evan," he said, knowing it was the right decision the moment he spoke. "It involves all of us."

  Evan Wilson again knelt beside Chekov; it was to him alone that she spoke. "Listen to me very carefully, Pavel You may, as you say, be stiff from sleeping on the ground, be out of shape. But there's another possibility I have to consider: the possibility that you have ADF syndrome."

  Chekov's head jerked sideways. "But, Keptain!" he protested. "I heven't been near eny Eeiauoans. I give you my word, sair!"

  "No one's accusing you of anything, Mr. Chekov," Kirk assured him.

  Jinx said, "He has the disease you're trying to find the cure for? The one all the Eeiauoans have?"

  "I don't know, Jinx," Wilson said. "All I know about the damn disease is what McCoy knew the last time we spoke. I've no way of confirming diagnosis until the symptoms are fully developed, no clear idea of the incubation period necessary, and no way of telling under what circumstances it's contagious. I'm saying it's possible Mr. Chekov has it, and that I can't eliminate or ignore the possibility."

  "You'd quarantine him if you could?" Again it was Jinx who spoke.

  "If- and remember I mean if Mr. Chekov has it, we're all exposed; I'd quarantine us all."

  "If I hev it," said Chekov, distressed at the thought, "I may hev given it to eweryone already."

  Wilson snapped, "Don't get uppity, Mr. Chekov. Someone else may have given it to the Enterprise crew, including you- if you've got it."

  "When will you know, sair...if I hev it, I mean?"

  "Not for a week or so, if you follow the general pattern. That's about how long it took for Nurse Chapel and other humans to start losing hair. The blurring of vision comes sooner but, like the muscular stiffness, is no sure sign. Now that I've mentioned vision problems, you may even develop them as a psychosomatic reaction."

  "Then I could finish the Walk?" Chekov said. "Keptain? You won't send me beck, will you, sair?"

  "I can't, Mr. Chekov," said Kirk, "Remember the rules? Either we all make it or none of us does. It would cost us the two days we've already spent, plus an additional two days to return you to camp, and we'd achieve nothing by it. Our communicator is with Rushlight on its way to Sretalles."

  Wilson added, "And Catchclaw is also in Sretalles. If you've got ADF, Pavel, I can't do anything for you or the rest of us. I'm still hoping Catchclaw can."

  "Mr. Spock: suggestions?"

  "I see no choice, Captain. We must continue."

  Kirk rose and faced the two Sivaoans. "Jinx, Brightspot? What do you say?"

  "If Mr. Chekov can make it to Sretalles, we should go on," said Jinx. "If he cannot, we must return to our last camp."

  Brightspot twitched the tip of her tail. Her pupils narrowed to slits as she stared at the to-Ennien. "Jinx, are you thinking of third time?"

  Jinx bristled and then, almost as quickly, smoothed her fur. "No, I'm not, Brightspot; I swear in Old Tongue. I'm thinking how many people can die in four days." She gestured at the humans. "If Dr. Wilson is correct, we may have been exposed to this AyDeeEff. We must find their answer now; we may also need it."

  Brightspot looked contrite. "I apologize, Jinx. That was a pretty stupid thing for me to say."

  "If it was being thought, it needed saying," said Jinx. She arched her whiskers forward. "Yes, Captain. We're willing to go on."

  Go on they did. They made camp at dusk and found themselves huddled beneath a smoke-filled canopy while sheets of rain swept over, rattling the usefuls and chilling them. Squinting in the firelight, Wilson examined Chekov again; she found no new evidences of ADF. Jinx, having asked and received Chekov's permission, did the same. Little was said; the storm passed up-country, and most of the party dropped off to a disturbed sleep.

  Spock shared the dawn watch with Evan Wilson. She was quiet and thoughtful; and Spock, who found the time for meditation restful in itself, said nothing to distract her.

  She took a handful of branches that had been drying beside the fire and threw them on. As they caught, Spock momentarily had a glimpse of her expression: it was the same dazed horror he had seen on her face when she had been surrounded by the grabfoots.

  "Dr. Wilson," he said softly.

  "Yes, Mr. Spock?" There was no hesitation in her response, although he had expected one. She seemed fully aware of her surroundings. That puzzled him, and he reconsidered what he had been about to say. But she so seldom conformed to what he expected that he judged it best to make the offer. "If the incident with the grabfoots continues to disturb you, Dr. Wilson, may I be permitted to offer a solution?"

  She frowned at him, clearly not understanding. He explained, "There is a Vulcan technique that would allow me to excise your memory of the encounter -"

  "Do I look that bad, Mr. Spock?" she interrupted. Her smile was grim. "Never mind; I don't think I want that answered. It's not the grabfoots." She drew up her knees and, folding her arms around them, rested her chin. "It's not that," she said again wearily.

  He waited. At last, she spoke again. "Suppose we've been wrong. Suppose this world has no cure for ADF?"

  "I see no need to speculate on the matter," he said. "If our assumptions concerning the social strictures of the Sivaoans are correct, we shall learn the answer to that when we reach Sretalles."

  "That's not what I mean." She rubbed her temple irritably. "I mean that, if Mr. Chekov has ADF, he could not have contracted it on this world- not unless he's unique in his response to the disease. Damn, even if he's unique, I haven't seen any native with anything remotely like ADF that he could have caught
it from."

  She straightened and looked directly at him. "No, Mr. Spock. If he's got ADF and the natives haven't a cure, then we've infected an entire world with the most deadly disease known to Federation science."

  "You do not know that is the case, Dr. Wilson."

  "I don't know it isn't," she shot back; there was anger in her manner and voice. Spock had seen similar outbursts from McCoy and assumed the anger was not directed at him but at the universe in general. It was not a logical response but neither was it unusual for human medical personnel. He waited once again. "Sorry," she said with sudden gentleness, "it's not you I'm angry at, it's me. I thought I had screened the Enterprise thoroughly enough to eliminate the possibility-"

  "As the parameters of the disease were unknown at the time," Spock said, "I fail to see your purpose in assuming the responsibility. As you yourself pointed out to Mr. Chekov, such an attitude would be 'uppity'."