By the time their tails seemed inextricably entangled, they had begun to tell her everything that had happened that afternoon- and their memories seemed to be fully as good as Brightspot's, though limited to what they chose to notice. Not limited to what they comprehended, he noticed. They repeated things verbatim and demanded explanations. Catchclaw provided as many as she could.
They were chanting Chekov's 'Sivaoan proverb' for her when Evan Wilson tapped his arm. "Captain? Mr. Spock? May I have a word with you both in private?" Her face looked drawn, taut.
He nodded, and the two of them followed her a short way away. Dissatisfied, she motioned them still further. "You wouldn't believe how good Brightspot's ears are, Captain." She turned off her universal translator; the two of them followed suit.
"What's wrong, Dr. Wilson?" Kirk asked.
She looked up and her eyes passed from him to Spock.
"Oh, hell, Mr. Spock," she said, but her voice was more tired than angry. Spock seemed to stare at something over her left shoulder; Kirk saw nothing to warrant his attention. Wilson went on, apparently still addressing Spock, "Don't go out of your way for me! Right now I could use a lift to my spirits- even a purely misinterpreted one."
Spock gave her his full attention.
"Thank you," she said, "I appreciate it." Then she was all business again. "We've got more trouble than we thought, Captain. Catchclaw doesn't recognize the symptoms of ADF syndrome."
Chapter Eleven
Leonard McCoy was waiting for results. Half of research is waiting for results, he thought, angry at his own impatience. The other half is interpreting them. Neither thought was of any use. He swabbed his eyes with a swatch of sterilized cotton. At least the serum seemed to be working...if his case of ADF had progressed much further he wouldn't be able to see the results, if there were any.
The whole thing was a damn long shot. Half a dozen of Micky's staff had checked out free of ADF and volunteered to undergo preventive treatment. Working in the quarantine wards, they were all at high risk anyhow. Three of them with relatives already in second-stage coma had volunteered to be infected with ADF, providing someone could find a way to do it.
That was the crux of the problem: They couldn't even infect a lab mouse, let alone a human volunteer. We can diagnose it the minute the toxin starts being released into the bloodstream, he thought, but we can't spot the bacterium, the virus releasing it- the victims have nothing in common. What the hell is this thing?
So they waited for results, and the only good results were negative. Every day that passed without diagnosis of ADF in someone undergoing the preventive regime was either a good sign or just a coincidence.
McCoy decided, after some thought, that he'd even settle for the coincidence. as long as no new cases were reported. Even a single new case among his volunteers, however, would put an end to his hopes for a preventive. He said as much to Micky, the next time they spoke.
"Don't be an idiot, Leonard," said Micky. Her smile took the sting out of her words. "We've got close to two thousand humans, humanoids and Eeiauoans on the preventive regime. One case out of that doesn't mean it won't work and you know it. If it works for even one species, it's a victory."
"I know," he said curtly.
"And not even the old commonplace vaccines are 100% reliable."
"I know."
"So don't I know me with that look on your face, McCoy."
McCoy shook his head. "I don't want any...more...cases. Ever. I want it stopped." As he said it, he realized to his horror that he no longer believed the Federation could find a cure.
As for Jim's wild goose chase- might as well ask for a miracle one direction as another. To believe in the existence of a cure on the strength of a few lines of song- well, that took more energy than he could command at the moment- but he found himself hoping Jim and Spock could still believe in it. As long as they did, the Enterprise and its crew remained out of harm's way.
Catchclaw doesn't recognize the symptoms.... The words struck James Kirk like a physical blow. "You can't mean that, Evan!"
Evan Wilson gave him an odd look. "Catchclaw wasn't lying, Captain, and she has a reputation for being one of the best doctors on Sivao.... Sweet Elath! you don't think I mean there isn't a cure, do you?" She caught his wrist; although her hand did not quite encircle it, her grip was surprisingly strong and reassuring. "Listen to me carefully, Captain: I mean only that we must convince Catchclaw or someone else with medical knowledge to deal directly with the Eeiauoans. We can't just snap up the information and go."
"But if she didn't recognize the symptoms-!"
"Medical terminology relies on convention. A med student learns to recognize the symptom 'livid skin' by seeing a patient that has a disease with that symptom. The phrase, the symptom, means nothing to you. You wouldn't have the vaguest idea how to recognize it because you have no referents for the convention. If the universal translator can't help you, how's it going to help Catchclaw?" She released his wrist and raised her hand to rub her temple at the point where Spock had touched her earlier in the day. "Worse," she said, "Catchclaw diagnoses by body smell, by texture of fur; things that can't be conveyed by filmed medical records."
"Suppose ADF is of Eeiauoan origin." As much as the thought horrified him, Kirk had to say it.
Evan shook her head vehemently. "It's Sivaoan. I've heard Nyota's song and that's ADF, all right- no doubt about it."
"So what do we do now? Suggestions, Spock?"
"If, as Dr. Wilson suggests, Catchclaw might recognize ADF syndrome if confronted with an actual case of the disease, we must find a way to present her with such a case. It would seem, Captain, that our only course of action would be to force the Sivaoans, not only to acknowledge the existence of Eeiauoans, but to make- in Dr. McCoy's somewhat archaic terms- a house call on them."
Kirk looked grim. "That's not going to be easy, Spock. There must be another way."
"There is one other possibility," Evan Wilson said, "though I admit it's chancy. You see, Captain, natural selection operates among germs and among the peoples they infect. A disease is most virulent before it has a chance to adapt to its host and vice versa. Catchclaw may see a case of ADF every other day and not know that's the disease I mean."
"I don't understand," said Kirk. "You mean Catchclaw might be seeing a milder form of ADF, with milder symptoms?"
"You do understand. Exactly. But the most difficult part is that the symptoms may not just be milder- they may be altogether different. It's possible that the Eeiauoan form of ADF hasn't been seen on this world for two thousand years or more!"
"So we must get one of their doctors to Eeiauo," said Kirk. "Good God, how am I supposed to do that?!"
His outrage was addressed to the universe at large, but Evan Wilson suddenly looked up at him with that wicked grin of hers and said brightly, "I'd consider kidnapping myself. Why don't we give Catchclaw and her babies a tour of the Enterprise? I'm sure Mr. Scott would love an opportunity to show off her abilities under warp speed."
"Dr. Wilson," said Spock, "such a course of action would undoubtedly be considered extreme, if not actually criminal, by Starfleet Command."
Evan Wilson looked offended. "Mr. Spock, do you honestly believe I'd kidnap babies? I'm shocked, sir. I respectfully suggest that you look to your tail, sir."
Involuntarily, Spock followed her glance to where his tail would have been had he possessed one, and Kirk laughed, more from relief than humor. "Well," he said, "does anyone have any other suggestions"- he gave a quick glance at Wilson- "aside from finding a local doctor with no close family ties?"
"Eat first, talk later," Evan Wilson said, but there was a speculative look in her eye that surprised Kirk. By god, he thought, she might just take that seriously! And, if worse comes to worst, I might give her the ship to do it with!
Dinner was festive: Children moved from cooking fire to cooking fire in a vain attempt to taste everything, jokes and tales were swapped, children tussled and were cheered on by their elders. It lasted for several hours. Kirk found time to apprise Chekov of Wilson's meeting with Catchclaw, and to make sure he understood this was no cause for despair. Uhura already knew and understood the implications, a credit to Wilson's bedside manner.
Chekov introduced Wilson to Catchclaw's children and, apparently, gave her good instructions on the proper disciplinary techniques. She squawked and thumped one soundly for digging its claws into her sore back and, from then on, they took exaggerated care. Wilson draped her train over her shoulder blades and, drawing it a second time across her breasts, tied the loose end at her waist. The resulting cowl gave her back and shoulders a measure of protection and soon she was as laden with children as Chekov- one clinging to her trousers at the hip and a second sprawled in the hammocklike sling of the cowl.
Rushlight was called upon to sing. The translator couldn't manage rhyme or rhythm well, but the tune was a jaunty one and even Kirk found himself faking the chorus, which was all about pulling tails. The hero was familiar: CloudShape to-Ennien.
Then Rushlight turned to Uhura and asked her for a song. She shyly complied with a light tune in Swahili. The Sivaoans clamored for more, but Rushlight pointed out that Uhura had spent all afternoon singing for the children and- in fairness- ought to be given a rest. This brought a spate of apologies and an admission from Uhura that she was truly a bit hoarse. She would sing another night if they wished; and from the reaction, there was no doubt they'd wish it.
Rushlight sang a dozen other songs. By the time he finished a second song about CloudShape to-Ennien, Grabfoot had fallen asleep in Wilson's cowl. EagerTalker, sprawled like a cap on Wilson's head, said to Kirk, "Has CloudShape ever come to your camp?"
Kirk could only think of Harcourt Fenton Mudd, who didn't quite seem to fit the bill. "Oh, yes," said Wilson, with a smile.
"A great many times, EagerTalker," Spock said, "and under a great many names and guises: Raven, Coyote, Uncle Saunday." At Kirk's surprise, he explained, "The trickster is a common figure in folklore, Captain, a god or demigod who can change shape at will."
"A thief and a clown," Wilson added.
"All of those," Spock confirmed. "Each culture has a different name for him or her." To Eager Talker, he said, "On my world, CloudShape called herself T'kay."
"Will you tell me how it happened, Mr. Spock?" EagerTalker said.
"Tomorrow," Catchclaw interrupted firmly. She began the process of disengaging the two children from Wilson's hair and clothing. A tail, Brightspot's, curled around Jim Kirk's wrist. "Please come," she whispered. "I have an idea." He followed her, away from the crowd and the music, and into the comparative peace of Left Ear's tent.
Brightspot said, "I told Left Ear how it happened that I learned about your memory and how you can keep it in a box.... This is the machine, Left Ear." She held up Kirk's tricorder and said urgently to him, "She can't tell me, and she can't tell you- but maybe she could tell your memory machine."
Left Ear said, "I might...be able to. I don't know, Brightspot."
"I'm not asking in Old Tongue," said Brightspot. "Just try. Can she try, Captain? Will you show her how it works?"
"Gladly," said Kirk, meaning it. He drew the strap from his shoulder and handed the instrument to Left Ear, who took it hesitantly. "It's all right," he assured her, "I'm not asking in Old Tongue, either. It's worth a try, though."
He showed her how to use both record and playback and watched as she tested it. She was startled at hearing her own voice. "That's not me," she said. Brightspot flicked her ears back and said, "It sounds just like you, Left Ear. It's my voice the machine doesn't get right."
Kirk explained the phenomenon; a good technical explanation distracted Left Ear from the ultimate purpose of the demonstration. The explanation seemed to satisfy Left Ear- intellectually, if not emotionally- and she tested it once more, pitching her voice at different levels. At last she said, "I will borrow your memory box, if I may, Captain Kirk. I will return it to you tomorrow."
"Yes, Left Ear. And thank you." Left Ear bristled. "Go away, now," she said, "I have to think again."
Brightspot scurried. Jim Kirk lengthened his stride to rejoin her. "Thank you, Brightspot. That was a good idea."
"It better work," said Brightspot. Her voice was almost a growl. "I'm old enough to walk and I don't understand what's going on around here."
"If it's any comfort to you, Brightspot, I am an adult and I don't always understand why my people do the things they do. The only solution is to keep learning."
"And, I suppose, keep asking questions, even if they're baby questions?" The tip of her tail lashed briefly.
He grinned at her. "Sometimes even if you get cuffed for asking."
