Water gushed from Brightspot's mouth- Kirk bent over her, ready to give artificial respiration if she needed it- and Brightspot gasped and breathed. While Evan checked the pulse at the base of her tail, Kirk slapped Brightspot lightly, trying to bring her around. He got no response; her breathing was extremely rapid, like panting, and irregular.
"Out of the water," said Evan, and the two of them, fighting their own exhaustion, dragged Brightspot further up the bank. "Give me your tunic, Captain, and build me a fire."
He was not sure he had heard her correctly. He stared and found fury in her face. "Your tunic!" she snapped, tugging at the useful she wore. "This won't absorb water worth a damn- we've got to get her dry and warm. She's in shock!"
He stripped off his tunic and twisted the water from it; she snatched it from his hands and began to towel Brightspot, pausing only now and then to wring more water from it. As she worked, she said over and over again, "Brightspot! Brightspot, listen to me! You're okay. You're on shore. Damn you, Brightspot! You're out of the water!"
Kirk fought the dampness of the wood and, at last, nursed a fire to life. He built it up to a roar, then helped Evan pull Brightspot close. He began to rub Brightspot's fur too- with his hands, as he had no cloth- talking soothingly to Brightspot in Evan's pauses.
"Against the grain, Captain," Evan said, "it stimulates their circulation." She tossed him his tunic to use while she reached for her medical kit. "No broken bones," she said, as if the sensor only confirmed her opinion. "No internal injuries."
His glance fell on the sensor Spock had modified. "It's not working anyway," she said. "We're stuck here, Captain." She pulled the pack from her back and spread its contents on the ground: fruit, comb, usefuls, pegs, her flint point. She found what she was looking for- a small leaf-wrapped package. She undid it, and a handful of tail-kinkers spilled onto her lap. Clumsy with exhaustion, she at last managed to smash several of them between her fingers and rub them just beneath Brightspot's nose. Then she pried open Brightspot's mouth. Kirk reached to assist her, holding it open while she smeared oil from the tail-kinkers on Brightspot's tongue.
Brightspot came to so abruptly that, had Jim Kirk not been holding her jaw, Evan might have lost a hand. "Evan?" said Brightspot weakly. "Did we make it across? Are you still my friend?"
Evan Wilson laughed and hugged Brightspot hard. "We made it," she said triumphantly. "We're safe on the opposite shore. No, don't wash!" she added firmly. "You can't afford to expend the spit right now. Lie still a minute." Too weak to nod, Brightspot arched her whiskers and obeyed.
When Evan returned, bearing fruit, she said, "Now I want you to sit up and eat something- Captain, give me a hand." Kirk helped her lift and hold Brightspot in a sitting position. Brightspot took a few bites of fruit and stopped. "A little more, if you can, Brightspot," Evan urged. "You need the liquid- you had a bad time of it there for a while."
As Brightspot ate, Kirk stroked her muddy fur. Suddenly he smiled and said, "That's what I call washing off the alcohol the hard way!"
Her pupils went wide. "Evan!" she said, "I remember! I fell in the water!"
"You were thrown in; the bridge was hit by a log. You're safe now, Brightspot, you're on land."
"You came in the water after me?" Brightspot looked at her with awe. Evan laughed and shook her head. "Don't ascribe high motives, Brightspot. I got thrown in just like you." She nodded to Kirk. "The captain jumped in after both of us. It was not terribly bright of him but since it all turned out well I'm grateful. He pulled you out of the water, and me too."
"Thank you!" said Brightspot, turning to him. "I was so scared- I don't remember anything except the water-"
Embarrassed by the worship in her eyes, Kirk said, "You, Brightspot? You don't remember? I'm never going to let you forget you said that!" Brightspot's tail moved, looping ever so slightly.
"That's better," said Evan. "Captain, see if you can get her to eat a little more. And if you feel the urge to pull her tail again, be my guest; it's obviously good therapy." She rose. "I'm going to throw a shelter up around you before it gets too dark to see what I'm doing."
By the time she had finished, Kirk had coaxed Brightspot to eat two of the fruits. Evan tucked her in usefuls- "Sleep now," she said. "Doctor's orders." And Brightspot closed her eyes and was instantly asleep. "Daughter of my sister," said Evan Wilson softly. "Captain? How are you holding up? Could you manage to stay awake for half an hour more? I know Jinx said a fire would keep the slashbacks away, but...."
He nodded. "I can manage half an hour, Evan, probably more." He was running on adrenalin still.
"Good," she said. "If I don't sleep now I will collapse. Wake me in half an hour. I'm not saying that to short myself- I want to check Brightspot then- so don't get gallant like Spock."
Kirk smiled at her, and at her image of Spock. "It's a promise, Evan. Half an hour."
"And have something to eat," she added. "Just save one for Brightspot when she wakes. She needs the liquid." She lay down, curled herself around Brightspot and fell instantly asleep.
Taking care not to disturb them, Kirk slipped from the tent to assess the situation. He had lost his own pack in the river, and his spear he'd dropped before he dove into the water. There was no sign of Evan's quarterstaff, though she still had her knife. He checked Brightspot's pack, laying its contents by the fire to dry. There was more fruit, mashed but still edible. No weapons except their knives, he thought. No map- but Brightspot had been told the route they were to take - given her memory they'd be all right on that score. Weapons, though.... Then he remembered Evan's spear point: it might not be as good as a Chekov point, but it would have to serve. He drew his knife and set about to cut himself a new shaft.
As he worked, he reassured himself that Spock would look after the other half of the party. They'd find each other in the morning- Spock knew better than to travel in unknown territory in the dark, no matter how the others pushed him. Spock was immovable when the logic of the situation demanded.
Throughout the long night, he and Evan Wilson alternated watches. Brightspot continued to improve, and when Wilson woke him just before sunrise, he too felt better. "Don't wake Brightspot yet," she said quietly, "I want her to get as much rest as she can."
He nodded and, pointing to the newly peeled quarterstaff in her hand, said, "I see we both had the same idea."
"Yes" -she smiled- "how's the food situation?"
He remembered she hadn't eaten the previous night. "Brightspot had fruit in her pack," he said. "One for each of us, and that leaves two for Brightspot."
She ate slowly, just as he had, savoring each bite. When she was finished, she said, "What's the game plan, Captain? Do we wait here for Spock, or do we go looking? I suppose I'm asking what he's likely to do."
"Can Brightspot travel?"
"If we take it slowly. I'd just as soon get her to Catchclaw anyhow."
Kirk gave it some thought. Then he said, "We're about two days from Sretalles. Spock would expect us to make for the trail if we could. We can't be too far from them, Evan. We may even be in hailing distance."
"Well, wait till Brightspot wakes up before you try hailing, Captain."
They sat silent for a while. Jim Kirk stirred the fire. "All right, Evan," he said at last, "why won't you call me Jim? Especially after all we've been through together?"
She laughed softly. "Especially after all we've been through together I wouldn't. I call people what they want to be called, even Jinx, and you want to be called 'Captain'- that's how you think of yourself, as captain of the Enterprise. Out here, that needs a little reinforcement. That's why I don't call you Jim, Captain."
Despite her smile, she meant her words seriously, and Kirk found himself thinking of those people who did call him by first name. Spock had, and from Spock, it was an enormous compliment. As for Bones- when Bones called him 'Captain,' it was generally meant as an insult, roughly along the lines of 'I don't like your orders, and I think you're a damn fool, but you're the captain, Captain'. "I see your point, Evan," he said. "Tell me, would you prefer I call you Dr. Wilson?"
She spread her hands. "Call me whatever you want. The name truly doesn't matter to me."
"You fought Fetchstorm over it," he said, surprised.
She shook her head. "I fought Fetchstorm over a derogatory term for human beings. That's different."
"Ah," he said, "then that makes sense." Without thinking, he added, "Where are you from, Evan?"
"Read my transfer file, Captain."
He chuckled. "I did. Spock disapproves of it."
Her eyebrow lifted in uncanny imitation of Spock. "'Disapproves'?"
"Let me rephrase that: He disbelieves them."
"Does he? Now why on Earth...?"
"Because on Telamon you'd hardly swear by a goddess."
"You'd hardly swear on Telamon," she said, grinning. "I'm sure you've picked up a handful of outworld expressions yourself, Captain- what else?"
"And because of your previous assignments. Your papers make you sound like a desk-jockey."
"I know," she nodded and, as if she were inquiring his opinion of any curious phenomenon, one that had no bearing on her, she said, "What do you make of it?"
He laughed aloud. "Damned if I know, Evan." He waited for some further response, but she only stared back, a hint of a smile in her eyes, and finally he ventured, "And you're not going to tell me either."
She shook her head. "Maybe some other time, Captain. For now- well, Mr. Spock brings out the worst in me, I'm afraid. Tail from a tree branch, as Brightspot says. And the only way to keep him guessing is to keep you guessing." She rose easily to her feet.
"Then at least tell me how you got Brightspot onto that bridge."
"Wake her and ask her. If she doesn't remember that this morning, I'm going to be worried about that blow she took to the head."
Jim Kirk did but he did not need to ask the question, for Brightspot sat up and, fixing a long accusing look on Evan, said with the purest of pure outrage, "You bit my tail!"
Through Kirk's laughter, Evan said, relieved, "Well, you're all right then. I was afraid you wouldn't remember," which only added insult to injury.
Kirk hastened to explain, "She means because of the blow to your head, Brightspot."
"Oh," said Brightspot, and then again, "She bit my tail, Captain!"
"She got you onto the bridge."
"But only babies bite tails!"
Kirk eyed Evan with amusement and said, "Apparently not."
He handed her the last remaining fruit and she subsided to concentrate on eating. By the time Evan had struck the tent and he had repacked their gear, Brightspot's outrage had given way to a combination of amusement and wonder. "I was just so surprised!" she said finally.
"Just think of me as a tail-kinker in your food," Evan told her, and Brightspot's tail looped happily, proving that no permanent damage had been done it.
Kirk stowed Brightspot's pack and slung it over his own shoulder, despite her protest. "Save your strength for walking, Brightspot- you're our Guide, remember?" He put just enough emphasis on his last word to curl her tail and noted with relief that today she did it easily.
"Try giving a yell, Captain, maybe they're in earshot."
Kirk did. They all waited, but even Brightspot's sharp ears could pick up nothing. "All right," said Kirk, "head for the trail, Brightspot. We'll see if we can pick up traces of them there."
He did not say that the lack of response worried him. He knew they'd been swept a long way down the river but it seemed to him that Spock would have followed- unless something had happened to the other half of the party.
Spock spent the long night on watch: although Jinx smelled no more slashbacks, he did not wish to risk the party to the protection of the campfire alone. And there was Chekov to consider.... He seemed to be resting peacefully now, but when Jinx checked him last, the simple act of pushing up his uniform sleeves scraped large patches of hair from his arms. Wilson's fears had proved correct: Chekov had contracted ADF syndrome, and he had contracted it in a more virulent form than previously seen in a human. Spock had read the medical reports himself and knew that Chekov's reaction to the disease was nonstandard. If it continued to progress at this rate, Chekov would be unable to continue the journey on his own.
The speed with which Chekov succumbed, however, made it quite probable that he had contracted the disease locally, even though they had seen no comparable illness in Stiff Tail's camp. That in turn increased the likelihood that Catchclaw could do something to help Chekov, if she could recognize the human version of the symptoms. "Mr. Spock?" Uhura's quiet voice broke into his thoughts. "Do you think the others are alive, sir?"
