Star Trek - TOS 021 - Uhura's Song

by Uhura's Song

  In a voice almost too low to hear, she said, "I can't do anything for him, Captain. It shouldn't be happening this fast. It shouldn't be happening at all! 'Not a word can be omitted from a song',"- Kirk could hear the quotation marks- "but they did, damn them for it. For all their perfect memories, they changed the one thing..." She finished with a glare at Brightspot.

  Brightspot's tail wrapped around Evan's wrist. "Lieutenant Uhura improved your song," she said, "You didn't get angry about that."

  "Improved my song," said Evan absently. She laid her hand over Brightspot's tail tip.

  "The baby in the treetop," Brightspot explained. She nodded at Uhura. "Rockabye Baby," thought Kirk- the lullabye Uhura had just sung to Chekov. Evan Wilson frowned slightly at Brightspot. "She doesn't sing it that differently, Brightspot. I'd hardly call it 'improving' as in what Distant Smoke did with Chekov's shelter design."

  Jinx said, "Brightspot is deaf." At least, that was how it was rendered by the universal translator.

  Uhura explained, "The Sivaoan word doesn't quite translate, Evan. She means Brightspot has a hearing defect, or what the Sivaoans consider a hearing defect- she doesn't have perfect pitch."

  "The others," Evan began, jerking the point of her chin at Jinx.

  And Spock said, "To have a specific term for the lack of the trait would be indicative of its rarity."

  "Yes," Uhura confirmed, "all the others have perfect pitch."

  "Perfect pitch and perfect memories," said Evan, staring at Spock; then she jerked her head back to look at Uhura. "Nyota, you have perfect pitch too, don't you?" Still stroking Chekov's forehead, Uhura nodded.

  Evan Wilson shivered and drew in on herself as abruptly as dry leaves crumpled in the fire. Troubled by this, Jim Kirk said, "Evan- ?" but she silenced him with an urgent wave of her hand. Kirk exchanged concerned glances with Spock.

  Just as suddenly, Evan looked up at Spock. "Perfect pitch and perfect memories," she said slowly, "and nothing changes."

  "That is not possible, Dr. Wilson. Life itself depends upon change."

  "Indeed, Mr. Spock." She held his eyes. "But what if they don't recognize the change?" She swung on Uhura. "Nyota, when you sang the teaching song for Catchclaw and Jinx, you sang it in the same key you learned it in, didn't you." But she did not need Uhura's nodded confirmation. Jinx said, "You wouldn't improve anything that important!"

  "You would if the disease changed its characteristics," Wilson shot back. She rose and moved to kneel beside Uhura. "I remember seeing an interview with a composer who had perfect pitch. He said he enjoyed hearing a new arrangement of one of his songs because, in a different key, it sounded completely new to him- like a new song. Is that true?'

  Uhura frowned up at her. "To a certain extent," she admitted, "but, Evan, it's still the same song -" Suddenly her hand shot out, caught Evan's wrist. "Possible," she said, "It's possible."

  "Then make Jinx hear the possibility," said Evan.

  Uhura turned to the Sivaoan and said, "Jinx, listen carefully. On my world, there are many ways to sing the same song. All variations of an essential tune. I'm going to sing the teaching song about the Long Death as many ways as I can. I want you to tell me if you've heard any version of it before."

  "Perfect pitch, perfect memories," said Evan again. "Even the words may be different; just the tune, Nyota."

  Uhura began in a wavering voice but soon sang with something close to her usual power: the same four lines, each time in a different key, now fast, now slow. Kirk watched and saw before him something like an ancient shamanist ritual: three healers intent on saving Chekov's life.

  Jinx's ears quivered forward, never once flicking away as they normally did to catch sounds from all sides. Her great copper eyes never blinked. When Uhura was done, Jinx was silent for a moment; then she said, "Yes, I understand. To you,"-she sang the opening notes of Uhura's song- "and"-she sang the same notes in a higher key- "are the same."

  Wilson, never taking her eyes from Jinx, said nothing. Taking their cue from her, the rest kept still. At last Jinx said, "I don't know. It seems silly to think -" She stopped, began again, "I don't know if it means anything- it's so unlikely. The words are different, but it's the same tune, I think, what you mean by the same tune."

  "Sing it," said Wilson.

  Seeming almost embarrassed, Jinx did. Even Jim Kirk, unfamiliar with Sivaoan music, could hear that what she sang was a variation of Uhura's song. This version was bright, almost cheerful; the verse fast-paced, the chorus leisurely.

  If Jim Kirk had expected a revelation, he was greatly disappointed, and he understood Jinx's embarrassment: the song spoke only of a children's disease, neither dangerous nor remotely related to ADF syndrome. The symptoms described were completely unrelated to Chekov's loss of hair, lesions, intermittent coma- these symptoms were so innocuous, in fact, that the only treatment prescribed was to let the child set its own pace and sleep whenever it tired.

  Evan Wilson's face showed her own deep disappointment, and Jinx turned away, twisting her tail over the failure. "I can't think of any other songs like Uhura's," she said.

  "No treatment for it," said Wilson flatly.

  Jinx turned back, surprised. "For that?" she said, "There's a treatment- it can be dangerous if an adult gets it. But most people get it as a child and then don't get it again ever." Like measles, Jim Kirk thought. "It doesn't help, does it," Jinx went on. "I've seen an adult who had it. It's nothing like AyDeeEff."

  "The tunes are the same," Evan Wilson said. "Mr. Spock?"

  "As you yourself pointed out, Dr. Wilson, the symptoms of a disease may vary in an extreme- even unrecognizable fashion- From population to population."

  "Yes." Wilson turned back and said, "Jinx, did anyone in Stiff Tail's camp have the disease your song describes?"

  "Grabfoot had Noisy-Baby," said Jinx, without hesitation, "and the other three were probably coming down with it. Evan, does that mean something?"

  Evan Wilson took a deep breath. Ignoring Jinx's question, she said instead, "Jinx, can Catchclaw treat an adult with...Noisy-Baby?"

  "Of course," said Jinx, "so can I."

  A sound came from Wilson's throat that might have been a sob, but when she spoke, the words came out flat, toneless: "What would you need to treat it."

  Jinx stared at her, wide-eyed, then swung around to point into the undergrowth. "That plant there," she said.

  "Do it," said Wilson in the same flat voice.

  Jinx's fur spiked. "You mean you want me to treat Mr. Chekov for Noisy-Baby? Evan, that's crazy! Even if- I can't! I'd have to get the medicine into his bloodstream and I haven't the tools to refine it to a safe consistency and I haven't a needle and- Noisy-Baby?!"

  "Make your potion," said Wilson sharply. "Don't worry about the lumps. Spock, Brightspot, I'll need a hollow reed, or anything like it, about six inches long and narrow." Spock and Brightspot scattered to obey, and Wilson glared again at Jinx, who darted into the undergrowth and began stripping foliage from the plant she had pointed to only moments earlier.

  The realization of what she was proposing to do brought Kirk to his feet. Shocked, he advanced on her angrily. "No, Evan!"

  "Shut up, Captain," she said. "This is my patient's life we're talking about."

  "That's what I mean, Doctor Wilson. You could kill him." Kirk stared down at her but saw Chekov- his lesions were visibly worse. When he pulled his eyes away to look at Wilson, he saw the truth of the matter in her face. Through their entire discussion Evan Wilson, fingers curled around Chekov's wrist, had been monitoring his pulse. Second-stage coma. He's dying now. He won't make it to Sretalles, Kirk thought; he did not have to hear the words from Evan Wilson. It may be a totally different disease, or the treatment may kill a human, or Chekov may be too far gone for treatment - but Jinx is his only hope.

  He said, in as calm a voice as he could muster, "Yes, Jinx. Please do as Evan says. And please- hurry," and he saw with gratitude that Jinx had not awaited his order.
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br />   Chapter Sixteen

  While Rushlight followed his nose further up the incline, Scotty stooped to examine the body of the slashback. The more he saw of the creatures, the less he liked them. To kill one with nothing more than a stone-tipped spear- !

  "They butchered the one up here, Scotty. They've got food, at least." Scotty rose and climbed to join the Sivaoan and found him wrinkling his nose at a rift in the jutting rock.

  "Ye're sure they're still alive, Rushlight?"

  "Yes, there are fresh scents for all four- but I think Mr. Chekov is ill."

  Scotty said, "I'll? Ye mean, sick and not injured?"

  "It's hard to tell. As I keep saying, I don't know your range of smells. But I don't smell blood."

  Scotty eyed his back suspiciously. "How d'ye know that one?"

  "Your Evan Wilson bled when Fetchstorm clawed her." He returned to Scotty's side and jabbed his tail tip upward twice. "This way."

  Scotty followed, saying, "Who's this Fetchstorm? An' why w'ld he claw the lass?" Rushlight's tail curled. Scotty, who had quickly learned the significance of the gesture, demanded, "What's sae funny?"

  "Fetchstorm is a young troublemaker, who made the mistake of assuming that someone without teeth or claws to speak of would be an easy mark. So he took on Evan Wilson, and I got a fight to sing of."

  "Aye, I see it now. Did she have her staff?"

  "Staff? No- she bit his ear." The tail coiled tighter.

  "The lass is full o' surprises," said Scotty. He hoped his words were still true, as he thought again of the raging river. Aye, an' I hope she bit its ear too. An' that th' captain showed it a trick or two o' his own.

  "Get some sleep, Uhura," Jim Kirk said gently. "Evan and I will stand the first watch." He nodded at Chekov to tell her that he meant to watch the ensign as well." We have a lot of hard traveling to do tomorrow. Brightspot, Jinx-"

  Jinx said, "He's my patient."

  Kirk glanced at Evan Wilson, who nodded and said, "Let her, Captain. She's right." Without releasing his wrist, Evan raised Chekov's head from Uhura's lap and eased it into her own.

  Uhura rose and stretched stiff muscles and said, "You will wake me, Evan...?"

  "I will, if there's any change."

  "You too, Mr. Spock," said Kirk. "That's an order." For once, Spock gave him no argument.

  Kirk threw more wood on the fire. Now that the rest of them had retired for the night, there was nothing for him to do but watch the woods and listen for any sound of slashbacks. From what Spock had told him, Jinx's nose was a better indicator of their presence than any of his own senses, but he did not wish to rely on it, and he needed something constructive to do.

  "Evan," he said at last, softly so as not to disturb any of the sleepers, "you're going to need sleep as well. Can't you and Jinx take turns monitoring...?"

  She shook her head. "Can't, Captain; either of us," she said.

  He understood. He resumed his patrol, pacing the perimeter of the campsite. Better that than inquire into Chekov's condition every five minutes. That, he knew, would do no good. Minutes seemed like hours. After several subjective years, Evan Wilson motioned him back.

  "His pulse is improving," she said quietly. Kirk gestured at the shelter where the rest lay sleeping. "Should I-?"

  "Don't wake them yet. I want something more." And as she said it, Chekov stirred. Jinx quivered all over, whiskers and ears cocked hopefully. "Talk to him, Captain," said Wilson.

  "Mr. Chekov- Ensign- can you hear me? It's Captain Kirk." Jim Kirk caught Chekov's wrist and Wilson's encircling fingers in one fierce grip. "Pavel?"

  Chekov's eyelids fluttered. "Keptain? Where- em I, sair?"

  Relief washed over him. "In a most enviable position, Mr. Chekov," he said, "with your head in Dr. Wilson's lap."

  Wilson gave a delighted laugh. "Don't let him pull your tail, Pavel," she said- and as he attempted to push himself up on one elbow- "Don't you move, you need the rest. Do you think you could eat something?"

  "Bozhe moi," he said, a look of real surprise on his drawn face. "I could eat a horse!"

  Jinx ran to get the slashback meat they had put aside for him, and Kirk said, "No horse, Mr. Chekov, but I'm afraid you'll find slashback has the same consistency."

  "I don't mind, Keptain," he said, and true to his word he ate voraciously. After a few moments, however, he tired.

  "Save the rest, Captain. You'll eat more later, Pavel," said Wilson. "Now I want you to sleep."

  Chekov nodded with effort. "Dr. Wilson? Is it- do I hev ADF syndrome, Dr. Wilson?"

  "No, Mr. Chekov," said Wilson. "All you've got is a nasty case of Noisy-Baby that you caught from little Grabfoot. Nothing at all to worry about." She smiled down at him. He smiled back, reassured; and, still smiling, he closed his eyes and went to sleep.

  "Jinx," said Wilson quietly, "wake Uhura and the rest just long enough to tell them-" She did not need to finish the sentence; Jinx darted off with an excited parting whip of her long gray tail.

  Jim Kirk glanced down and discovered that he still clamped Wilson's fingers to Chekov's wrist. He opened his hand, drew it back. When he met her eyes again, he saw they brimmed with tears. "Is it a cure, Evan?" he said, and his own voice sounded husky.

  "Ask me again tomorrow, Captain, or next week." With her freed hand, she caught the corner of a useful to scrub the tears from her cheeks. Her other arm crooked around Chekov, fiercely protective. She finished, "But he came out of a second-stage coma- and he's alive."

  Then she made a small angry noise of frustration- as she had pointed out only a day ago, Sivaoan fabric wouldn't absorb water worth a damn. Acting purely on impulse, Jim Kirk reached out, took her chin in his hand and gently wiped away the tears with his palm. Something of a liberty, he realized, a moment too late, but she brought forth the ghost of a smile. "Thank you, Jim," she said.

  "Thank you, Evan."

  Evan Wilson woke to Jinx's light touch on her shoulder. She stretched, waved a hello to Brightspot who sneezed one back and leaned over to examine Chekov. "Pulse good," she said, "and the lesions have dried! Jinx, they're healing over! Does he need a further dose of your potion?"

  "If it really is Noisy-Baby, no- one is enough. But we don't know it is, Evan, and humans react so differently...."

  "We'll go by standard treatment," Wilson said and caught her tail as it twitched past. "Jinx, it's working! Why so angry?"

  "It's the thought that so many people, the Eeiauoans and the other humans you told us about, could die from a children's disease! How is that possible?"

  "Diseases and people adapt to each other. Any time a disease hits a group that hasn't been weeded by that disease over time it will hit hard. On Earth, the world Chekov grew up on, there are two large continents, with humans on both. For thousands of years, they had no contact with each other. When they finally did meet again, what one population considered a minor childhood disease could be fatal to the other." Evan laid a hand on Chekov's forehead. "In fact," she went on, "you're almost sure to find the same problem when your people get together with the Eeiauoans again. The recurrence of diseases in old unfamiliar forms is something you- and every other doctor- will have to keep in mind."

  "We will," said Jinx. "I'll tell Catchclaw, too." Her ears flicked suddenly back. "You think I'm a doctor!"

  Brightspot too flicked back her ears at Evan. Their combined amazement startled Evan Wilson. "You..." she began and spread her hand above Chekov to finish the thought. "Evan, I've been apprenticed to Catchclaw for years. I know all her techniques. But I can't be a doctor until I'm an adult."

  "Nonsense," said Evan Wilson. "You know what you have to do and you do it. You're considerably more adult than Stiff Tail. Begging your pardon, Brightspot. Correct me if I'm wrong- but Stiff Tail ruled us children so she wouldn't have to think about the Eeiauoans, didn't she?"

  Brightspot sneezed, nodded, sneezed again and looked abjectly miserable, whether from the cold or from Evan's remarks about her mother, Evan couldn'
t tell. "So who's more adult- somebody who works like mad to avoid a problem or somebody who works like mad to solve it?"

  The two Sivaoans looked at each other. For a moment, neither spoke, then Jinx said, "I think you're right, Evan." And Brightspot nodded agreement.

  "I think I owe Mr. Spock an apology, too." Jinx glanced again at Brightspot, hesitated, then said, "Brightspot, Vulcans don't have a word for suicide." Brightspot's ears shot back; she stared at Evan, who nodded confirmation of the fact, wondering where it led.

  Watching Brightspot anxiously, Jinx went on, "He said he wouldn't trade my life for Mr. Chekov's. He made me swear in Old Tongue I wouldn't take the other trail to adulthood even if we failed this third time. Brightspot, it was the only way I could get him to take Mr. Chekov straight to Catchclaw."