Wissell responded enthusiastically. “I have a feeling that some of the molecular bio stuff might be a bit out of my league.”
Couthad’s ears fell limp in a gesture of infinite patience. “I will go slowly and repeat where necessary so that you do not miss anything, friend Wissell.”
* * *
“Sir, two of the Perenoreans are here.”
Montgomery Scott noted that Ensign Pearson was dirty and apologetic: both good. A dirty engineer was a busy, working engineer, and the man’s apologetic tone indicated he was anxious to get back to what he had been doing. Scott was busy as well, and he understood why the visitors were being fobbed off on him. It had been his idea to bring them aboard in the first place. So now, in addition to seeing to the smooth operation of the Enterprise, it was also his responsibility to attend to any of the Perenoreans who were cleared for engineering. Each of the ship’s section heads had been prepped on how to handle the interminably inquisitive guests—“inquisitive” being the polite, formal adjective that had been employed in the reports. Had he been asked his opinion, Scott would have said the Perenoreans more properly ought to be described as “pests.”
Which was another way of saying that he had work to attend to, and that he did not especially look forward to having to play tour guide to a couple of the visitors. But orders were orders, and diplomacy was diplomacy.
Now if the three of them could just sit down around a bottle…
They were waiting for Scott outside. By now everyone on the ship had learned the subtle differences that allowed an observer to determine the sex of Perenoreans. A good thing, too, Scott decided as he regarded his guests, since their attire was essentially identical. The male introduced himself as Jiwarth, the female as Ouroum.
“We would be most interested in comparing your antimatter system with ours, as typified by the drive system installed on the Eparthaa.” Jiwarth’s golden pupils focused hopefully on the Enterprise’s chief engineer.
I’ll bet you would, laddie. Aloud, Scott said, “And I’d love to show it to you and discuss it in detail, but there are sections of the ship that due to security reasons are off-limits to visitors.”
The pair of Perenoreans exchanged a look, then turned back to their host. Mechanical translator notwithstanding, Ouroum succeeded in sounding downright hurt.
“Is it then decided that we are not trustworthy? After all that our species and those of the Federation have accomplished by working together?”
“ ’Tis not that.” Though no diplomat, Scott could be tactful when the situation demanded. “You should not feel singled out.” He gestured behind him. “For security reasons, certain sections of Starfleet vessels are off-limits even to members of their own crew. It’s a natural precaution.”
Jiwarth sounded confused. “A precaution against what?”
Could it be that these folk had no security procedures on their own vessels, or that the very concept of internal security was unknown to them?
“When you’re visiting Starfleet Headquarters, you can ask the regulation writers. I do not make the directives; I just follow ’em.” He gestured to his right. “While I cannot show you the facility you’re askin’ about, I don’t see why we can’t have a look at a dimensional model. There’re no regulations against that.”
Ouroum was visibly disappointed. “We are of course happy to partake of any new knowledge however it is offered to us.” Her ears went straight back. “It may be that the viewing of schematics combined with your own unequaled insightfulness into the actual physics and mechanisms may be sufficient to answer our questions.”
Scott nodded encouragingly. “I’ll show you everything I’m allowed to show you. We don’t have to worry about what’s been designated as off-limits because the ship’s computer will automatically block those from appearing.”
Jiwarth mimicked the nodding, careful to bob his head in the best human fashion. “We will just have to substitute informed suppositions as best we can, then. And if you are constrained from answering certain queries, we will of course understand.”
The problem, as Scott soon discovered, was not that they asked questions he was forbidden to answer. It was that they were soon asking questions he did not understand. While the mathematics and mechanics of warp-drive systems were well known, it quickly became clear that both of the Perenorean engineers had a grasp of the theories behind them that was far in advance of anything Scott had studied. As tactile holo-images hovered in the air between them, the Perenoreans did not hesitate to repeatedly thrust their spatulate-tipped fingers into the intricate mix of colored lights and lines.
“If your dilithium system was realigned so,” Ouroum declared with conviction as she moved one bit of engineering around in midair, “wouldn’t that improve control, especially at maximum warp?”
Scott squinted at the consequences of her deft manipulation. “Well now, I dunno, lassie. It’s one thing to reposition components within a schematic and quite another to reengineer and rebuild them in reality.” He stuck a finger into the depths of the complex projection. “For example, what’s to keep this from suffering from critical overload due to the increased power it’s now bein’ asked to manage?”
Standing beside him, she scrutinized the small but critical subjunction he had singled out. Her eyes seemed to glow as if their very reflection was analyzing the problem he had posed.
“A just concern, Mister Scott.” Once again long fingers slid into the projection, their double joints allowing them to move and manipulate it in ways no human could manage. “It would take a complete redesign of the redirect to handle the new load.”
“Exactly. That’s why it’s not possible. Because there’s no way to redesign the module in question without having to rework the entire dilithium lensing system.”
“But Mister Scott.” Her fingers never stopped moving, even as she protested softly. “I am reworking it even as we speak.”
He chuckled condescendingly. “Now, lassie, I’m sure on your own ship where you’re intimately familiar with the workings it might be possible. But this is the Enterprise. She’s the latest and most-advanced vessel of her kind. Her inner workings are alien to you and to ask anyone to do something like what you propose is…”
His words trailed away and his lower jaw dropped slightly as a pair of tiny green lights appeared in the depths of the floating projection. Leaning closer, he stared at the glowing segment from which she was carefully withdrawing her left hand.
“C’mon now—it’s not possible.” He stared over at the Perenorean engineer. “Starfleet engineers and physicists have been working on refining the lensing system for years. Nay, for decades.” He turned his gaze back to the interior of the hovering schematic. Both green lights glowed bright and strong where her manipulative digits had been a presence. “You cannot fix such a problem in a matter of minutes!” Even as he voiced the objection, he had sufficient presence of mind to reach for the nearest wall and hit a control so that the design impossibility he was looking at would be recorded.
“Of course, I cannot be certain of the ultimate efficacy of my poor efforts, Mister Scott.” Ouroum’s tone was modest. “But I think if you can make the necessary adjustments to the Enterprise, you will find that the next time you engage your warp drive, your energy efficiency will have improved by ten to twenty percent, with no loss to the dilithium structure.”
Standing nearby, Jiwarth said, “Or more. It’s really just a matter of seeing a new way of controlling an old design.”
Scott frowned at the holo. “ ‘Old design.’ Now wait a minute here, my over-fingered friend. Didn’t I just tell you that the Enterprise is—”
“Look at this hydration system.” Ouroum had moved around to the far side of the projection and was singling out a section filled with conduits and pipes. “It must supply the whole ship. Allowing for access for necessary maintenance and repair, there is substantial wasted space and duplication.”
“You don’t have to tell me abo
ut the ship’s hydration setup.” Scott walked around to join her in scrutinizing the indicated sector. “I know it intimately. Too intimately, if you must know.” He squinted at the hovering imagery. Unlike the ship’s warp system, nothing about hydration and filtration was off-limits. “I don’t know about you two, but I’m tired of squintin’ at a projection. I’m sorry I can’t show you the drive nacelles and related sections, but we can have a look at anythin’ that involves water.” He smiled at the wide-eyed Ouroum.
“So you’re sayin’, based just on what you can see in this projection, that you’ve already been able to identify areas of wasted space?” She nodded. “Do I presume correctly that you have an idea or two in that slender little skull of yours on how to improve it?”
“We are always happy when we can make suggestions for improvements!” The Perenorean engineer was clearly delighted that her host was willing to listen.
“Then why are we standin’ here? Let’s go.”
Jiwarth chattered away as he paced the chief engineer on his right. “It is very good of you, Mister Scott, to give us this opportunity to be of some assistance. We wish nothing but to try and find ways and means of repaying you and your colleagues for this magnificent opportunity that has been granted to us.”
“Well, if you can help me improve hydration and filtering so that the ship has access to better water more efficiently, then I’ll be the first to toast your suggestions!” After a moment’s pause, Scott added less exuberantly, “With the first freshly filtered water that passes through an improved system, of course.”
13
Masteresque Founoh watched carefully as McCoy passed the episealer across the open wound. Now that the edges of the gash in the crewman’s calf had been drawn together, the doctor carefully sprayed a few puffs of synthskin over the wound. Drying almost instantly, the artificial skin would not only keep the wound closed, but except for a slight sheen, would match the surrounding undamaged surface perfectly.
“We’re done, Harper.” As the crewman sat up, McCoy smiled and slapped him on the back. “That should be fine in a few days. A week and you’ll never know you cut yourself.”
“Thanks, Doc.”
As the repaired crewman donned his pants and prepared to check out of sickbay, McCoy led Founoh to the main medical console. Taking a seat, he gestured for the Perenorean to sit down opposite. His guest had no trouble accommodating his slighter frame to the human furniture. Truth be told, given the flexibility of the Perenorean form, Founoh could probably have made himself comfortable on the console.
“Drink?” Reaching under the console, McCoy fumbled around in a small cabinet. “Coffee, fruit derivative, green tea?”
“Just water, thank you, Doctor. Something in the first makes our eyes hurt and in the second there are compounds we should still analyze for safety. I do not know the third.”
“Green tea’s not bad.” McCoy opened a container and waited for it to chill. “Fellow crewmember introduced me to it. We differ on a lot of things, but not on the merits of the stuff.” He handed his guest the container of water. “Here. The coolant will chill it to what it thinks is the proper drinking temperature based on the body temperature of whoever’s holding it. You can disable the function by sliding your finger along that embedded strip on the side.”
Founoh proceeded to do so. “Room temperature will be fine.” After enjoying a swallow, he indicated the surgery. “You are fortunate that the simple structure and design of your bodies allows you to make such rapid diagnoses and to apply the applicable treatment almost as fast.”
McCoy said, “I suppose we are. When I was on the Eparthaa I did notice that it took longer to treat what we would consider to be minor wounds. I didn’t have a chance to watch you perform surgery. Despite the outward similarities conveyed by the principles of convergent evolution, your internal makeup is more complicated than ours?”
“I believe so.” One hand gestured fluidly in the direction of McCoy’s computer. “We could confirm such discrepancies if I could access the biological records contained in your ship’s computer.” He lowered his head. “But as you know, that access has been denied to us.”
McCoy pondered for a long moment. Then he set his drink aside and swung around in his chair. “The medical section has access to the ship’s main library computer, of course, but it’s also accessible as a separate entity. It has to be able to operate independently in the event of damage to the main.” His fingers moved over instruments and a holo-screen appeared above the console. “What would you like to know? Beyond what you can see with your own eyes and what you’ve already learned, of course.”
Founoh edged his chair closer to that of his host. “This is very kind and thoughtful of you, Doctor.”
McCoy smiled. “You already know what we look like on the outside. I can’t see the harm in letting you see what we look like on the inside. I just wish I had access to equivalent information.”
“But you can have that, Doctor McCoy.” From a pocket in one of the swirls of his garb, Founoh withdrew a small device. It was compact, sleek, and like every other instrument of Perenorean design, almost devoid of external controls. “This would be our equivalent of your medical tricorder.”
McCoy examined the instrument. “I saw them in use on the Eparthaa and also on DiBor. It’s smaller than the ones we use, and with what looks like a much cleaner interface.” He smiled again. “I just supposed that’s because it’s not designed to do as much.”
Without commenting on the implication, Founoh slid two fingers along one featureless side of the device. A second tridimensional projection appeared alongside the one that had been called forth by McCoy. The senior Perenorean physician gestured.
“We can compare information side by side and you may record anything that appears. By the time we reach Earth, you will be the leading expert on Perenorean physiology.”
“I thought I was already.” McCoy worked the interface. “Can I record everything, you say?”
“Everything and anything. The sharing of this knowledge is but a small gift from my kind to yours.” The round mouth flexed. “Besides, who knows but that one day you or your fellow medical experts may again be needed to aid injured Perenoreans.”
“Hopefully not ones fleeing from the Dre’kalak.” McCoy shook his head at the memory. “They really did go all out to convince us that you were dangerous. Maybe your eagerness to help can be overwhelming. I’m looking forward to learning all I can from you about your people.”
“And about your own.” Founoh gestured agreeably.
“Excuse me?” McCoy’s joviality and smile gave way to obvious puzzlement. “I already know about humans.”
“Of course you do,” Founoh said pleasantly. “It is just that in the time I and the other submasteresques have spent in the company of your species, we have noticed one or two things that you seem unaware of and where a small suggestion or two on our part might prove useful.”
“Is that so?” McCoy bridled. “What ‘one or two things’?”
“Well, this matter of some of you not being able to sleep as well as others, for example.” As he spoke, Founoh manipulated not only his own projection, but also the one McCoy had called up from the medical console. “In our bodies, neurotransmitters communicating with our equivalent of the human cerebral cortex fire at a more constant rate. This results in Perenoreans spending almost eighty percent of our sleep time in what you call deep sleep, where humans usually spend about twenty. As deep sleep is the most restful and useful kind, we awake feeling more invigorated than you do—and with having spent considerably less time asleep.”
McCoy was duly impressed. “Maybe that’s the reason, or at least a contributing factor, to why you people are so intense all the time; always on the move, always asking questions.” When his counterpart did not comment, the doctor continued. “Are you telling me that you have some kind of secret formula or something that could improve the quality of sleep for humans, and maybe also let us get b
y with less sleep?”
“It is not a secret. With us, this extended deep sleep comes naturally. There are physiological underpinnings. It is not a cultural achievement, but a matter of biochemistry. Biochemistry, as you know, can be manipulated to produce desired results. Even for something as seemingly simple as extending sleep periods.”
Gesturing at the holo-image being projected by his instrument, he enhanced the interior of the skull. Longer and narrower than a human brain, in the angular Perenorean skull the critical organ was set on a vertical rather than horizontal axis. But it did not look smaller than a human brain, McCoy decided. It would be interesting to compare volumes and see if it was the same size.
“Let us work together, Doctor,” Founoh proposed. “We will compare neurological pathways, chemical composition, brainwave activity and centers, and perhaps when we are through with this we will have found a way for humans to enjoy a deeper, sounder, more rejuvenating rest.”
“Hell yes. After all, it’s just sleep we’re talking about. What could be the harm?”
* * *
The cabin door was open, yet Uhura still hesitated. Faced with a similar situation involving members of the crew, she would never have walked in. Was it permissible to enter when a door was open? Was it perhaps even an invitation? In that case she would be derelict in her duty if she did not enter.
She came to a quick decision. Communications were her specialty, and she fully intended to communicate. But she would do so as unobtrusively as possible so as not to startle the guests.
Part of her current assignment was to make regular checks to ensure that the Perenoreans were adequately communicating their needs. Having already made contact and exchanged pleasantries with half their number, she anticipated no difficulty with the couple occupying this cabin.
As she eased into the cabin, she could see that the two Perenoreans who had been assigned to Ensign Servantes were not sick or injured. Instead, they were so engrossed in studying the pulsating readout from the cabin’s information terminal that they failed to notice her approach. Not wishing to startle them, Uhura stood quietly and waited for the pair to finish their immediate research. As she waited, casual curiosity impelled her to strain forward to see what they were doing. They couldn’t read standard text, of course, and as no audio translation was audible she assumed they were just enjoying whatever images they had managed to call up. Whatever it was had to be localized and for security reasons they had been denied unfettered access to the ship’s main computer. Except…
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