I thought it would maybe take two or three days to edit this thing and put it up. Well, I am learning a lot. I want to thank Afroz for suggesting some editing to the summary too.

Chapter 10
Evening and Night, the Second Day

When they joined the others at the main camp, Chief Giotto explained the situation. "Some sort of caravan is approaching. The ship's sensors say it is local folk, probably representatives of the district clan's hierarchy. They apparently like to stop in and visit from time to time. There is no indication they are armed, but I want everyone ready for any possibility." With some bitterness he added, "The captain says weapons out but not aimed."

That was counter to the protocols Giotto had outlined back on the ship. Ziem was glad she had not witnessed the captain overruling the chief's plans. She made a mental note to ask Geoff about it later, when she was certain their discussion would not be overheard.

Ziem stepped into her assigned position. They were in a diamond formation. Ziem was in the back, with the crew before her. Giotto was in the front, beside the captain. Hendorff and Rudolf were each a point on the diamond. They all had unobstructed views of the potential threat, and clear lines to shoot in.

In the distance she could see dust rising from the approaching vehicles. Mentally she began to prepare for battle. She checked her weapon, it was charged and ready to go. She checked her team, they were focused and ready for action. She checked the crew, they were satisfactory. The chief had wanted them to stay out of sight. The captain had again overruled him, insisting that there was no reason to be afraid. He said that the Phadruans had never been aggressive before, and that treating them as threats might even encourage them to consider that an option. The crew seemed to agree; only Wilson looked completely undone. She supposed it was natural he would be frightened after Tormos. Lieutenant Uhura had stopped to grab a universal translator from the stored supplies; she held it and stood with the captain at the front of the group. They both looked alert, but not anxious. The first officer was close by, between and slightly behind them, looking as collected as he always did. The captain's yeoman, Tremaine, was by Hendorff. She was at rigid attention with her eyes fixed on the captain. Ziem thought she looked uneasy, but she didn't fuss or fidget. Lapinski, Martin, and Sascheja stood closer to Rudolph's corner. The nurse looked at the approaching vehicles disapprovingly, like they were an annoyance. The two young men spoke quietly to each other, and occasionally shared a laugh. Ziem thought Martin was probably a little anxious because he seemed to be avoiding looking at the vehicles. She thought Lapinski looked more excited than afraid. He looked up frequently to check the vehicle's progress, and then returned to joking with Martin. Wilson and Chekov were in the very center of the group. Wilson looked miserable. He paced in tight circles, and slowly rubbed his hands up and down his arms as if he were cold. Chekov worked calmly with a tricorder. Periodically he would smile reassuringly at the geologist and show him the screen. Whatever was on it would calm Wilson briefly, but after a few seconds he would shudder and return to pacing.

Ziem remembered the accounts of the slaughter of the scientists on Tormos. The terrorists had arrived in broad daylight, had pulled up and started blasting. She understood why the chief considered their group equally vulnerable to attack. There was no shelter in the area, nothing sturdier than the stunted trees to hide behind. As the vehicles pulled closer she reminded herself of one of her favorite of the chief's adages: Good to prepare for what might be, but better to deal with what is. Taking a deep breath, she checked the charge on her weapon one more time and got ready to meet the visitors.

The caravan arrived. Three large boxes more than two meters tall and a little longer floated in close formation, then settled into the sandy ground just a few meters from the chief. They were brightly painted in fanciful patterns. For several seconds they sat perfectly still. The chief said quietly, "Chekov?" The ensign looked up from the tricorder and gave the chief a thumb up. Ziem realized the chief must have asked him to scan the visitors for weapons.

"Okay people, the situation looks low threat, but stay alert." The chief said as he stepped in front of the captain.

There was a click from one of the boxes. She heard several deep breaths, as members of the crew realized the waiting was finished and tried to prepare for the unknown. There were two more clicks, and then first one, then the others of the boxes opened.

The sides of the transports slid back just enough to allow a figure to slip out of each of the vehicles. They were very alike, hairless humanoids dressed in drab jumpsuits just a little lighter than their sand colored skin. They jumped to the ground and looked around. They ignored the crew, and instead stared at each other. The tallest one waved his hand and all three grabbed the door of a vehicle. In unison they shoved them back like great, garish barn doors. When they would open no farther, the little figures stood in front of them, at what certainly looked like attention, with hands behind their backs, and gazed attentively at the first vehicle.

A figure appeared in the doorway of the first vehicle. It was not unlike the first three beings, but more robust. Ziem knew from her earlier research that it was an indigenous citizen of Phadru. It appeared to be male, and was dressed very gaudily, in a crimson robe streaked with gold and black. He was smaller than most of the crew, and slight, but had a rounded middle. He was so big bellied in fact that she wondered if he padded his abdomen in compliance with some local fashion. He stepped out of the vehicle and stood with his fists pressed very firmly into his hips.

"Captain, the Phadru," Lieutenant Uhura said softly, "place their arms in that position to stress that they are carrying no weapons. It is similar to putting your hands over your head on Earth."

The captain nodded but did not look away from the little being. The Phadruan took a few more steps towards the crew. He stopped, wrinkled his brow, looked back at the being standing by the door to his vehicle, and stamped his foot. He began to hiss unintelligibly. In response the other Phadruan turned and reached into the vehicle.

Immediately each member of the security team raised their weapons. Unaware, the more drably dressed Phadruan rooted in the back of the first vehicle. He pulled a purse sized pouch from the vehicle. When he turned around and saw the phasers aimed at him he squeaked, then slowly raised the pouch above his head and walked to the better dressed one with a peculiar stooped posture. He kept his hands up, his head down, and his whole body bent sideways. Ziem did not alter her level of readiness, but the posture reminded her of a puppy approaching a larger dog, and she could not help feeling more relaxed. The Phadruan in brown set the pouch on the sand before the gaudily dressed Phadruan. He patted at it with his foot and then stood upright and scurried back to his position by the vehicle.

"Mr. Giotto, it isn't Starfleet issue, but I think that is a translator. There is no indication it is armed." Chekov called from where he was scanning in the middle of the group.

The chief nodded, and signaled for his crew to stand down. Ziem holstered her weapon, and returned to watchful alert status.

The brightly dressed Phadruan advanced a few more steps and looking down at the pouch, hissed again. The pouch began to translate aloud, just slightly delayed from the being's actual speech.

"Yes, yes, it is a translator. We carry no weapons. Why would we wish to bring weapons to the camp of our very good Federation friends? Not when we are so pleased to have them here in our homelands, where we hope to hurry them to the development of these wastelands. Oh yes, it is so very good luck for our so deserving clan." The machine's voice lacked inflection, but it was already translating while Lieutenant Uhura's was still learning the speaker.

"I am James T. Kirk, captain of the Federation Starship Enterprise, and leader of this team." The captain stepped past the chief, ignoring his angry glare.

"Oh yes, we have all heard of James T. Kirk, captain of the illustrious Starship Enterprise and hero of the galaxy! Welcome, welcome James T. Kirk. Look, in preparation for your visit I have learned to greet Terrans as they do each other. Watch, watch me!" The being dropped his arms, and wiggled his whole body like an actor preparing for a role. Then he stepped toward the captain with his lids drooping half closed over his big eyes. He stuck out his right arm, with thumb toward the sky. He squeezed his mouth shut and barely opened it to say in heavily accented Standard, "Hello there! I am Spand, the second son of Hauz, clan leader of the Truleyphadru. I am so pleased to meet you."

The chief looked confused as he watched the performance. Ziem thought the Phadruan might possibly consider the odd grimace an approximation of a human face. The captain seemed to agree. He looked amused, and glanced at Uhura.

"I think you should shake his hand Captain." she said.

Kirk reached out with his right arm, grasped the smaller being's hand and pumped it. He said, "Glad to meet you Spand. We are enjoying our time here on Phadru."

His Standard apparently depleted, the little being switched back to letting the translator supply it. "Ha! I bet you are not enjoying any time in this desert wasteland. This hole from Hell will improve much when the Federation covers it in metal and concrete." As he spoke his eyes darted around, taking in the camp and the crew. His face was rather reptilian, with the large dark eyes, flat nose and wide lipless mouth Ziem had seen in the preparation materials for the planet. He looked like a clever, fat gecko. His grin made him seem very happy, but Ziem reminded herself it was always wrong to interpret a being's appearance or expressions without proper preparation. That is why every bridge crew and every away team included a communication officer.

As Spand continued to talk, the lieutenant's translator was able to synch up the being's individual speech patterns with its preloaded vocabulary, and began to broadcast to the crew's communication devices. Ziem preferred it, because it supplied inflection, and enabled her to hear the conversation in the way it was intended to be understood. Spand did not offer to turn off his translator and continued to speak to it. When the devices synced it was easy to ignore his, but when they disagreed on a word it was jarring.

"You are not a big group. You must work hard to get this last ridiculous Federation hurdle jumped. Our clan is eager to have a huge factory on our lands." He turned his head to the drab figures by the vehicles and snarled. "Get my coward sons out of the wagons and out here to impress the Federation flunkies."

The translator made his rude words sound pleasantly conversational. Ziem wondered if it hadn't fully calibrated. It seemed impossible anyone would choose those words without bad intention. Polite or impolite, his words were quickly heeded. The drably dressed Phadruans all scurried into the vehicles. When they emerged they were followed by six more Phadruans, each dressed flamboyantly in robes splashed with color. While the original three went back to their positions by the doors, the six sharply dressed ones came forward to join Spand.

"James T. Kirk, I have brought for you to meet, my six oldest sons. They all have large families, and are here to impress to you the importance of the Federation getting done with its silly list taking and begin to build the clan our cash cow factory. The families in our clan cannot wait to begin to earn dividends and rental money." The translator continued to interpret Spand's tone as friendly.

He introduced each of the younger beings. Their names were difficult for Ziem to differentiate. Each of them thrust their arm forward to awkwardly shake the captain's hand. Captain Kirk greeted each of them warmly and then asked the visitors if they would like a tour of the camp.

"Sure, yes, yes James T. Kirk. We will see the camp. And then we will eat. We have come for dinner." Spand licked his teeth and grinned at his sons. They all repeated the action, six slender tongues caressing pointy teeth and hissing happily. They had a great many teeth, and they all were very sharp. The licking, combined with the eager way they looked at the crew made Ziem think of lizards hunting. She looked over to the chief; he didn't seem bothered by the display. Ziem reminded herself again that appearance had nothing to do with intent. Around her, all seven members of the clan Truleyphadru pushed eagerly into the camp.

The captain turned to Uhura, and threw her a questioning glance.

"It is very common in their culture to share a meal. It is recognized as an opportunity to build relationships and to assess the possessions of each other. Do you ever read any of the materials I send you?" The lieutenant whispered.

"Never mind that now. How are they going to feel about us handing them their very own plate of rations?" the captain whispered back.

"Um, it is customary to offer your best to guests. This is a very appearance conscious society. But they are always looking for new things, to add to what they have or know. If they haven't seen the self-heating technology they might even enjoy it. We really don't have any choice." Lt. Uhura said quickly.

Kirk turned to Tremaine. "Get all the rations out, try to arrange them, I don't know, party like. Just do what you can. I will give them a tour and then we will eat."

"Yes sir." The yeoman said, she left quickly.

"Gentlemen," called the captain, "have you ever seen a self-setting tent?"

The captain gave the tour. He made a computer, some tents, three fire pits, the laundry lines, and some leveled areas left by other work groups seem far more exciting than they were. The guests showed genuine interest in only twice. They liked the tent where the anti grav sleds were parked, still loaded with supplies. They were so enthusiastic that as they prepared to move on captain quietly ordered Mr. Rudolph to remain in the tent and see that nothing left it. Later, they had an odd response to seeing the map. Hearing what it was, all six sons began to pace around it, stroking the computer and laughing. The oldest asked the captain if it was full of good information, assured that it was, they all began to repeat the phrase. They laughed and told their father that the computer was full of good information. Spand ignored them at first, but eventually lost his temper and snapped at the closest son-literally tried to bite him. The son squealed and jumped back. The tour continued, the young Phadruans bringing up the rear.

The group made their way slowly to the main area of the camp. Yeoman Tremaine had enlisted Ensign Chekov to help her. They had set up a camp table covered with what was probably the ensign's waterproof blanket. She had arranged the ration packets pleasingly and had sterilized and refilled all the crew's water bottles. She had little packets of flavoring by them so that each diner could make their beverage interesting in their own way. She had arranged some twigs and grass as a centerpiece. Ziem was impressed that it looked so well in such a short time.

Tremaine, Chekov and Hendorff stood behind the table. The captain gestured expansively to the preparations.

"We have only very simple travel food, but we are pleased to share it with representatives of the clan that has agreed to allow us to use their homeland for our factory. May our cooperation speed the process and useful works begin soon." He said grandly. Uhura smiled at him approvingly.

The sons jumped towards the table. Their father snarled at them to wait. He looked over at Captain Kirk and asked, "You allow your servants to watch us eat? You still fear us? We have given the Federation permission to build on our land, what else must we do to demonstrate our trustworthiness? You sadden me James T. Kirk."

"My servants?" asked the captain of Uhura. She shrugged and turned to Spand.

"It is not customary to have help at the table?" she asked.

"It is not customary to make a guest maintain dignity while he eats!" sputtered the little being, looking accusingly at the group behind the table.

"These are not really my servants," began the captain.

"It's alright sir." said the yeoman.

"We could go and…join the other servants." suggested Chekov.

"They will need an escort though. Security and all," said Hendorff.

"Go." said the captain with a sigh. The three slipped away. Ziem noticed Chekov avoided looking at Lapinski, who smirked at him.

"Shall we eat?" asked the captain. He led the guests to the table.

The clan members went to it with gusto. As Uhura had suggested, they enjoyed the self-heating rations containers very much, and eventually opened them all. Their table manners were not Federation standard. What they didn't like they dropped and reached over it to grab something else to try instead. This meant they actually ate very little. They did drink a great deal. They used up all the sprinkles and then began to add to the water from an animal skin pouch the youngest brother carried. They did not offer any of the liquid to the crew. It seemed to make them even more talkative. They turned their faces away from the translator to laugh and hiss among themselves. Occasionally they all seemed to agree that something they said was profoundly funny. They would look around for Lieutenant Uhura and repeated it. They would shout their thoughts at her, and then wait while her translator shared it with the crew. They would wait for the crew to laugh too. Sometimes they seemed disappointed in the response and the captain would try to seem more enthusiastic. Even when they did not enjoy the Phadruan humor, Martin and Lapinski did seem to appreciate Mr. Spock watching the captain pretend to laugh.

Ziem did not join the feast, as she was on duty. The chief held a plate, but did not eat, instead he watched the party intently. Sascheja did the same, although Ziem doubted it was a sense of responsibility that made her unwilling to join in. The filth connected with the visitors tasting and rejecting would have worried most medical professionals. Lieutenant Uhura tried to eat, but she was interrupted by requests to translate and interpret so often that Ziem was not certain that she actually swallowed anything. She seemed to enjoy the enthusiastic chaos of sharing a meal on Phadru. The captain, Lapinski, Martin, and Rudolph also seemed to find the guests amusing. Commander Spock stood throughout the feast. He was, as always, composed. But not Ziem noticed, entirely impassive. Every tossing of a plate, dumping of food, or appreciative burp resulted in an eyebrow twitch. Their guests remained oblivious to his discomfort, and continued to enjoy themselves. Gradually it grew darker.

When everything was opened, and all the water was drunk, Spand and his sons looked around expectantly.

"Is that all?" Spand asked.

"Well, as I mentioned, we weren't expecting guests. We try and not pack more than we assume we will need. It helps keep us focused on the mission, which is of course getting everything ready to start your smelter." The captain had referred several times to the project during the meal with Spand and his family. Every time he did, the mood of the visitors seemed to skyrocket. They would laugh sibilantly to each other and rub their hands together.

"Good idea James T. Kirk." Spand said. "Still, we should have decent meal. If this is best you can offer only one solution seems available. You will have a visit to our clan. Even in our current near destitution, we will feed you good. You will remember us, and see how important it is that the Federation stop playing, and get that factory built. After you come to love the Truleyphadru you will see to it that the Federation stops creating excuses and starts building."

Spand's sons nodded enthusiastically. A few applauded their father's obviously rehearsed speech.

"Wait, are you saying you want us to come for dinner? You mean tomorrow?" the captain sounded surprised. He looked at Uhura who shrugged lightly. He said, "I don't think that will work out. We have a pretty specific timeline, and we really need to stick to it. We wouldn't want to slow down construction." Ziem suspected he was not as regretful as he sounded.

"Hah!" said Spand. "Have underlings do it. You come have decent meal and meet clan. Bring your woman and the wonderful, strange fellow." He gestured toward Commander Spock. Looking over at Ziem he added, "Maybe not the giantess. There are so many children at the compound; we don't want to scare them." Ziem felt herself begin to blush.

"I will make my own decisions about which of my valued crew members will accompany me." the captain snapped.

"Excellent, then we agree you will come. I will take my sons and two crafts to prepare for your arrival. I will leave one servant and the third craft to bring you to us." Spand did not seem resentful of the captain's tone.

"I am not agreeing to come, I need to talk to my officers," began the captain.

"Oh," Spand said. He shut his eyes as if he were in pain and continued, "I thought you were a galactic hero and big boss who made your own decisions James T. Kirk." The translator made his tone a little mocking. "If that is true, decide. Here are the facts: you can come to our home and enjoy a fine meal, or you can stay here and insult our clan. Either way we will be prepared for you as the sun sinks tomorrow."

Spand turned tail and marched in the direction of the vehicles. His sons followed closely behind, several still hissing and clapping. The captain turned to Uhura and threw his hands out, clearly uncertain what to do next.

"Go after them and make some sort of specific agreements for the visit. Act like you always intended to agree to go." she said. "We can't afford to insult them."

Sighing, the captain trudged after their guests. Most of the rest of the party followed behind. Ziem took a look around before she brought up the rear. They had left quite a mess. She wondered if she would be one of the servants cleaning up after the party.

Chapter 11
A Conference, Late Night, the Second Day

Captain Kirk, Commander Spock, and Lieutenant Commander Giotto sat around the fire. Ziem stood off to the side, trying desperately to be unobtrusive, suspecting that she was failing. She was still on duty, and so responsible for the camp. With both-actually all, the senior officers in one location standard procedure was to keep them in line of vision. She was uncomfortable because they were clearly deep in a discussion, and she was forced to overhear it. She felt like the biggest, hulking, most obvious eavesdropper ever.

If the men in the discussion hadn't been the captain, her immediate commanding officer, and the first officer of the ship, she would have called their discussion an argument. The captain had clearly decided to make the best out of being manipulated into visiting the Truleyphadru family compound. He wanted Mr. Spock to accompany him. Mr. Spock objected, because he wished to finish the work he had begun. The chief objected to either of them going. All three men had stated their position several times. Both the humans had begun to get quite rather heated in their objections. Mr. Spock was, as always, calm, but he did not vary from his stated goal of staying to finish his primary assignment.

"Captain, it is extremely difficult to provide you with adequate security when you insist upon going into unknown territories. You have given the Phadruans time to prepare for your arrival, but they could just as well be setting a trap, gathering weapons, notifying unfriendlies, doing any number of things for which we will be absolutely unprepared. I must most strenuously encourage you to avoid this needless risk." The chief's strained tone told Ziem he was having trouble saying so little.

The captain answered in a voice far less jovial than it had been half an hour earlier. "Lieutenant Commander, as I have said, I understand and appreciate your objections. However, Lieutenant Uhura assures me that many previous work parties visited the local people. There were never any incidents of violence. I do not wish to go, but I am tasked with finishing these studies so that this refinery can be built. If we insult these beings anything could happen. They could deny us access to their land. They could call off the entire deal. I doubt it, but it could happen. At this point I am not discussing the decision to go to the compound. I am open to discussing who gets to take a few hours off and who will stay here and work. And Spock, you're with me."

"Captain," began Mr. Spock again, as unemotional as he had been when the discussion began.

"Spock. You are with me." The captain sounded like he was finished discussing it. Ziem thought that under any other circumstances the chief would have approved.

"Very well Captain." Spock replied, and Ziem thought that he sounded slightly different. She couldn't say angry. She could say different.

"I am thinking, you, me, Uhura, my yeoman," The captain counted on his fingers as he spoke.

"Tremaine" said Spock and Giotto together.

"Thank you, Tremaine, Chekov, and someone from security." The captain finished up confidently.

"There will be two someones from security. I will go and I will take Hendorff. We will be heavily armed. We will not be removing our sidearms no matter what the local traditions call for. That leaves Rudolph and Sabide with Wilson, Sascheja, Martin, and Lapinski." said Giotto.

"Captain, if I may suggest," began Mr. Spock. "Ensign Chekov has been required to perform significant maintenance on all of the tricorders, because of," here he paused. More formal than the humans in the crew, he seemed to be having trouble bringing himself to mention the specific problem with the tricorders, "the difficulties associated with the local birds. He has also been successful in assisting Mr. Wilson when the main frame experienced...similar difficulties. As he is consistently reliable in all his efforts, I believe it would be logical to leave him here to continue his work."

"Are you trying to say you think he's the only one capable of cleaning bird shit off a screen?" asked the captain.

"His work has been essential to the mission." Mr. Spock said.

Captain Kirk continued, "Or are you saying you trust him to actually do what he is supposed to without supervision?" The captain sounded teasing again. Clearly the senior officers accepting his decision had improved his mood. "Think though, he is both entertaining and observant. Both useful qualities, and I don't want to leave him behind."

"Captain," Mr. Spock began, but the captain continued as if he hadn't heard.

"I mean, yes, he's totally reliable. He's got this weird ability to be right where you need him to be, even before you know you need him. Though it does make more work when he eventually trips and impales himself on someone's prized national icon. But until then, you're right, he's always good to go."

"Captain, I am not aware that Ensign Chekov has ever done anything of that nature." said Mr. Spock, sounding Ziem thought, very slightly confused.

"Well, maybe not yet, but we all know he will at some point, and he's done plenty of other things. The boy is clumsy, there is no denying it. Still, he's always much more entertaining than either Martin or Lapinski. If the dinner gets long I can always watch him trying to think of ways to get rid of whatever they're serving without putting it in his mouth. That never gets old." Ziem thought it was possible the captain was enjoying confusing the first officer.

"We could leave the ensign and the yeoman, thereby taking a smaller group into the compound." suggested Mr. Giotto, he didn't sound hopeful.

The captain threw his arms out expansively and said, "Gentlemen, we will compromise. We leave the ensign, and take the yeoman. I'll call the ship and update them on our plans. We will leave tomorrow at 1100 hours, which means Mr. Spock can do a few more hours of work before we take our diplomatic break."

"Very well Captain." said Spock. And "Yes sir." said Giotto at the same time. Neither of them sounded nearly as pleased with the arrangement as their commanding officer did.

"Hey Ziem!" Hendorff called out with his usual enthusiasm. Ziem jumped a bit in surprise. She glanced at the chrom on her tricorder and was surprised to see the shift was changing. She had been concentrating on the conversation at the fire and hadn't noticed the time. The other officers heard him too.

"Hendorff, get over here and debrief." barked the chief.

"Yes sir." said Hendorff, saluting as he ambled over. He paused, frowning as he gathered his thoughts. He had told Ziem that he hated reporting directly to the chief. He thought he had trouble organizing his reports into the brief, logical presentation the chief preferred. Ziem had heard him report, she agreed. She smiled encouragingly at him over the heads of the three senior officers. He smiled back and began.

"I went over to the vehicles like you said. Ensign Chekov and Yeoman Tremaine went too. We stopped and got that universal translator they left in the sand, but other than that we went right on over."

"And?" asked the chief. He sounded less curt than was usual, and Ziem wondered if perhaps he knew how much he knew how intimidating he could be.

"Well it's lucky we got that machine because when we got over to where the three guys, the uh, servants were, they were cooking and they asked if we wanted to eat with them and we did. So we sat and visited with them some"

"Mr. Hendorff, did you eat the native food without analyzing it?" Mr. Spock interrupted.

"Oh, yeah, I mean no. Okay, what I mean is, yes sir, we ate it, but also no sir, it was analyzed. Pav, that is, Ensign Chekov scanned it. He said it was fine. It was some sort of plant root. They boiled them. It looked like skinny potatoes, and it tasted like potatoes too. Mr. Chekov made them show him the plant, turns out it's all over around here. And don't worry sir. I would probably be dead by now if it was poisonous, I ate like fifty." Geoff was quickly descending into conversational. Ziem frowned, trying to remind him to make a more formal presentation; she doubted that the argument with the captain had left the chief any tolerance for a ramble.

"Many toxins are slow acting, taking days to reach..." Mr. Spock began, but the chief interrupted him.

"Hendorff, did you have any conversations with the natives?" said Giotto.

"Oh, yeah, let's see. They didn't have any of our stuff in their crafts. We checked it out. We just asked if we could see the vehicles and they said sure. Bethie, uh, that is Yeoman Tremaine, basically asked them if they were planning to steal anything. Kind of embarrassing, I thought, but they didn't seem to mind. They said they had looked around, and that we didn't have anything they don't already have, so they doubted it. Anyway, so then we ate. And they were drinking, and they started getting bold, badmouthing the Federation, the project, pretty much everything. They weren't threatening though, just rude. Eventually they started in on the ship. They were like; they had higher expectations of the famous Enterprise. They basically said all the other work crews that had been here had been better supplied. Since we didn't even have anything they wanted to steal, they doubted the Enterprise could be too amazing." Geoff started to laugh softly. The officers waited for him to go on, but he didn't.

"Hendorff!" warned the chief.

"What happened next?" The captain asked.

"Don't get mad, but to be honest, the next thing they started in on was you sir." McCallister nodded to the captain and continued. "They said they had heard you were impressive but having seen you they didn't think so. Then Pav tried to explain to them how you're a hero, and that you saved the universe, and you are amazing and etcetera, etcetera."

The captain started to laugh, "I am amazing etcetera, etcetera? Did Chekov actually say that?"

Geoff said, "No sir, I did. That means I can't remember what all Pav said, but it was a lot. It didn't matter though. They just kept saying stuff about if you were that great you would have better clothes. No matter what Pav said they kept going back to the fact that you were dressed not that good. Uh, that's just in their opinion sir. I actually think you look fine."

"Thank you Hendorff." said the captain with mock seriousness.

"You're welcome sir," Geoff said with a smile. Ziem was embarrassed for him.

Chief Giotto gave Hendorff a stern look which brought him back to his task. He cleared his throat and said, "So anyway. Then one started in on how your tent wasn't even decorated, and Pav lost it. He was so mad he couldn't even remember to speak in Standard. But the universal translator did the job on Russian too. So he's ranting at them by this point, and they were like, "Well if he were so great he could get a decent shirt." I tell you, that Pav really can swear for such a quiet guy. It was hilarious."

Ziem was mortified for Geoff. The captain was actually laughing. The chief surprised her by not yelling. He even looked slightly amused. Only Mr. Spock seemed to be taking the report seriously.

"Did the local people appear to be angered by Mr. Chekov's outburst?" asked the first officer.

Geoff said, "No not at all. In fact I got the impression they liked him more than either me or Beth. They told him that The Old Man, that's what they call their boss, The Old Man, had promised all his wives he was going to get the famous James T. Kirk to come to dinner and to start calling all the relatives. They told Pav he should try to get assigned to the entourage, because the food was going to be great even in the servant's area. Pav told them he had absolutely no interest in eating with such a stupid bunch of people. Burri, which is the name of the tallest one of them, Burri, said it was interesting that Pav wasn't letting his opinion of them keep him from doing a pretty good job of eating all their supplies. Since we each had a plate full of those roots at the time we couldn't really disagree. So Pav said, very serious like, that the only way he could bring himself to endure their company, was if he had something important to think about, something like fried potatoes. They all laughed at that, it really cut the tension. And right now he's teaching Burri to play poker, so I doubt there was any real problem. I think they just like to try and provoke people."

"Anyway," Geoff continued, "after the other two left we told Burri he could sleep in the tent with us so we could keep an eye on him, but he says he has to stay with the craft. I think he thinks we might steal it!" Hendorff shook his head and snorted derisively. Then he added, "Ensign Chekov told him fine, we will just stay there with him, and play some cards. So don't worry Chief. He's not stealing anything tonight." Geoff saluted again and stood at attention, apparently considering his report finished.

"At ease, Hendorff." said the chief with a sigh. His mouth was oddly twisted, like he was trying to hide a smile.

The captain cleared his throat and said to Giotto, "I think we're all set for tomorrow. I will notify the ship of the change of plans."

Giotto nodded and said, "I need to go find Rudolph and run through my expectations for tomorrow. He does better when I have been clear with him. Then I will get him to help me check supplies and make sure we are ready to go." Turning to Geoff he added, "Go get some rest, I will take this watch. You're going to the compound tomorrow with me, and I want you to be ready for anything."

Geoff responded with an enthusiastic "Yes sir," saluted, and ambled off in the direction from where he had come. Giotto and Kirk watched him go in silence until he was out of sight. Then the captain turned to the chief and raising both eyebrows, looked at him expectantly.

Giotto sighed and said, "It may be hard to imagine when you listen to him give a report, but he's actually quite competent. He's level headed, brave, follows orders. Maybe not the guy to go to for subtlety, but he never quits in a fight, and the rest of it, we are working on.

"Good in a fight and not subtle, yes, that sounds like the Cupcake I know and love," the captain said. Ziem wondered what he meant.

The chief tossed his head and said, "I would take ten of him over some of the trigger happy show offs I get from OTS."

"No, no, I totally get it," continued the captain. "I was just thinking that it is not fair that you get to take your most entertaining division member, but I don't get to take mine."

Ziem was surprised when the chief laughed. She was even more surprised when he said, "Sir, I am happy to share. You can spend all day tomorrow having him report on everything without hesitation or analysis."

"Etcetera, etcetera." said the captain.

Chapter 12
Morning, the Third Day

Ziem arose early and had a fire made and coffee started when her crew members joined her. People ate slowly, and there wasn't much visiting. It was hot already, and Ziem thought most everyone was dreading another day of monotonous work in the sun. Mr. Spock stood stoically at the edge of the group. Without saying anything, he somehow made it clear he was eager to get to work. The crew, Ziem noticed, avoided looking at him, and instead sat and chewed quietly with their heads down.

She sat between Geoff and Chekov, staring at her empty tray and wondering if she could possibly endure getting up and taking another in front of everyone. Burri, the Phadruan driver sat on Chekov's other side, enjoying his third serving. He chewed noisily and complained about the small portions. Chekov looked up from his own nearly untouched meal and suggested going to dig potatoes when, well off to the side of the group, there was the whine and swirling yellow lights that meant a transporter was in action. Giotto jumped up, and Ziem started to, but before she could rise the slender figure of Doctor Leonard McCoy materialized. His expression was decidedly unhappy.

"Bones!" said the captain. "Nice to see you, but what are you doing here? Didn't you have vital, essential broom closets to reorganize?"

"Not funny, kid. Yes, I have lots to do, but from what I hear I am needed right here. Sulu filled me in on your little plan to go visit some alien headquarters. I don't trust you to go anywhere without managing to get hurt, sick, torn apart, or poisoned. You need a full time medical escort at all times. And I didn't want Sascheja to have to neglect the care of everyone else in this team just because you take it into your fool head to go gallivanting off to the great unknown with no notice or forethought." The doctor sounded angry to Ziem, but the captain smiled the whole time he was talking like it was a great joke.

No one in the party seemed very interested in the doctor's arrival, except Mr. Giotto, who nodded and smiled grimly at the doctor's words, and Ensign Chekov, who looked anxious when he heard the doctor's voice. He leaned over to Ziem and whispered urgently, "Miss Sabide, would you please switch plates with me?"

"What?" asked Ziem.

"Just do me this favor, please? Switch plates with me." He held out his nearly full rations packet, shielding it from the doctor's view as he did so.

Still uncertain she understood him, Ziem handed him her empty tray and took his full one. He smiled his thanks and went back to playing with his spoon, running it nervously around the empty tray.

The doctor continued to complain as he followed the captain over to the supply table. "You refuse to recognize the dangers inherent in these expeditions, you don't give your own security teams time to adequately research your...," the doctor paused in front of Ziem, looked suspiciously at Chekov and said, "Well you gobbled that right down. Enjoy your breakfast?"

"Oh yes sir." The ensign looked first at the empty plate he held, and then up at the doctor and smiled angelically.

McCoy looked at him with narrowed eyes. "Good, because I know what you think about the ration packs, and I would hate to think that you are avoiding my specific instructions, disobeying my direct orders, to eat while you're out here." Chekov said nothing, but continued to smile at the doctor. After a few more seconds with no response, the doctor said crankily, "You're pink. Go have Sascheja give you another hypo to prevent sunburn. Some people shouldn't be allowed out in full sun." The doctor's frown suggested the ensign was purposely pale.

"Yes sir, right away." said the young man, jumping up.

The doctor turned to Ziem. "Eat up Sabide. You are going to need your strength out there protecting these people, each more determined than the last to find new ways to hurt themselves."

"Yes sir." said Ziem; she looked down at Chekov's cold food. Then she looked at the ensign, uncertain about what he would want her to do, but he refused to meet her eyes. The doctor glared at her and crossed his arms. He seemed decided to wait until she ate the food. Although she was still hungry, and she didn't mind the taste at all, the idea of taking someone else's food was embarrassing. But she was unable to think of an alternative, so reluctantly she stuck her fork in the vegetarian eggs. Her first few bites seemed to satisfy the doctor. He returned his attention and his complaints to the captain, who had watched the whole interaction with a knowing grin. Ziem thought he too was trying to get the ensign to catch his eye, but Chekov avoided it, kept his innocent expression and looked around as if searching for the nurse. Spotting Sascheja by the tents, he scampered off, leaving his breakfast to Ziem.

The next few hours were frenzied. Giotto sent Rudolph into the field with Spock and the junior officers. He gave Geoff responsibility for guarding the camp and watching Burri, the Phadruan driver. He told Ziem to repack a sled with supplies from a list he sent her PADD, while he inspected the Phadruan vehicle himself. He equipped it with a homing device so that their journey could be monitored, and checked it for weapons. With Burri distracted, he spent some time figuring out how to drive it in case the need arose. Finally, he surprised Ziem very much by telling her that she would be in charge of security at the base camp while he was gone.

Giotto said, "I don't anticipate you will have any real problems. This whole project seems to be pretty much as advertised. Be very clear with Rudolph about what his responsibilities are, and don't assume he will be able to handle anything independently. If you actually have any real trouble, he will be fine; it's the day to day stuff he doesn't do well with. I don't think the crew will give you any trouble. The captain is leaving Lapinski in charge, not my pick, but probably not worse than Martin. Remember that he doesn't outrank you, he's in charge of the mission, but you're in charge of crew safety. And if you are concerned about anything, do whatever you think necessary to keep them safe. If that means calling the ship for emergency transport, so be it. Don't think about the gear, or the work, just get the crew out of here. If you don't hear from us, or for any reason you grow concerned, get the crew aboard the ship and search from there."

"Thank you sir, I will do my best." Ziem was irritated, but not surprised when she began to blush.

"I have a lot of faith in you Sabide," said the chief. "My worries aren't about you at all."

Promptly at 10:50 Mr. Spock returned to camp followed by the officers, who all looked hot, tired, and frustrated. They were followed by a chagrined looking Rudolph. Ziem assumed he had received one of Mr. Spock's infamous reprimands. She wondered briefly what he had done to deserve it, with Rudolph there were many possibilities. But she was too busy to ask. Mr. Giotto had her pack the Phadruan vehicle.

By 10:59, Captain Kirk, Yeoman Tremaine, Lieutenant Uhura, Dr. McCoy, Mr. Giotto, Geoff, and Burri the driver were standing by, ready to leave for the compound and the dinner party. Mr. Spock, very surprisingly, was not. He had wanted to change prior to leaving, as the birds had again been around the work crew. Finally, Ziem saw him walking toward the vehicle. He was deep in conversation with Ensign Chekov, who looked thoughtful, and Lieutenant Lapinski, who looked bored.

"Let's go Commander, our host is waiting!" called the captain. His spirits seemed excellent. Clearly he was eager to take a break from surveying.

Spock walked to the group, continuing to speak quietly with the two young men until he was almost at the door of the vehicle. Burri pressed something and the wall slid back to admit the Starfleet team.

"I am ready Captain." said Spock. He climbed in without pausing or acknowledging the rest of them. The doctor followed him in, but immediately popped back out.

"Jim, there's no chairs in here. What are we supposed to do, stand like cows going to slaughter, or throw ourselves on the ground like it's a hay ride?"

"It'll be fine Bones. Whatever the local custom is right?" the captain was still outside the cart, holding out his arm to assist his beaming yeoman into the vehicle. He offered his arm to the communications officer, but she gave him a cold look and jumped in herself.

Through the universal translator Lieutenant Uhura carried, Ziem heard Burri, the driver, say to himself, "I toured the entire camp, and not one chair did I see, rocks only. But now James T. Kirk and the crew of the illustrious starship Enterprise must sit in chairs in the cart. They wish to be treated like maidens on their way to a wedding. Ha. They do not fool me. They are not used to luxury. They can sit on the floor like normal people."

The captain heard too, he laughed and called into the cart, "Hear that Bones! It's a hay ride!" he looked back at the group around the vehicle and said, "Lapinski, you're in charge. We will check in at least every three hours, and we plan to be back late tonight. Have fun people!" and with that he jumped into the brightly decorated cart. The door clanged shut. The vehicle whined a little as its engine started, and then it rose out of the sandy ground and drove away, first making a large circle and then heading off as its companions had the previous day.

The remaining crew members watched until the bright cart disappeared in the glare of the noonday sun. Ziem was not afraid of the planet, or of her new responsibilities, but her little group seemed to have grown small and rather lonely. She almost wished she had Geoff's job, riding off to see new people and places rather than facing another day in the dirty survey camp with her crew consisting of the quiet ensign, the quieter geologist, the interchangeable lieutenants, the schoolmarm like nurse, and her often inappropriate underling.

When the cart was out of sight Ensign Chekov turned to Lieutenant Lapinski and asked, "Shall we go back to the field now? Or was there something else you wanted us to do first?"

"First I am eating lunch, and then I am waiting for it to cool down a little before I go back to work." the lieutenant said.

"Mr. Spock," began the ensign.

"Yeah, I heard Mr. Spock too." the lieutenant said dismissively, "I was standing right next to you. And I also heard Dr. McCoy this morning when he said we should avoid being out in the sun when it's too hot. I am choosing to follow his medical advice. I am not ordering you to do the same, but make sure you remember that I could do so." Lapinski smiled coolly at the younger man, who looked a little taken aback.

"Yes sir. I understand." the ensign said quietly. Ziem was very surprised by Lieutenant Lapinski's decision. She tried to read Chekov's expression. He wasn't surprised, she thought, more resigned? She wasn't sure.

"Lapinski, I'm not sure that's a good idea. This is a very important project and the work won't get done unless we take advantage of the daylight to do it. We've got plenty of water. I think we should stick to the original plan." Wilson, the geologist, looked flustered as he spoke. Ziem wondered if he was really upset with Lapinski's decision, or if was the stress of speaking that had him so nervous. She was certain she hadn't heard him say anything else since they left the ship.

"We won't take the whole day off, waiting a few hours for it to cool down won't dramatically affect the outcome one way or the other. We can eat an early dinner and work more this evening when it's cooler." Lapinski folded his arms and looked confidently at the older man. Wilson looked anxious, and definitely unconvinced, but he did not argue any more.

"We are not," began Chekov.

"Did I ask for your insights Ensign?" asked Lapinski.

"No sir." Chekov said quietly.

"Then don't even think about sharing them."

Lapinski looked at the little group, waiting for someone else to try to convince him to change his mind. When no one said anything, he smiled, and nodded, and said, "Good, let's go get lunch then." He began to walk back toward the supply tables, looking, Ziem thought, very pleased with his first command decision.

Lapinski grabbed a rations pack, and sat in the best of the sparse shady spots. Wilson walked over to the computer that displayed the map. Chekov joined him, and picking up the tricorder he had used that morning in the field with Spock, began to fidget with it. As he checked the machine, Chekov kept looking speculatively at Lapinski, who was now chatting happily with Martin and Rudolph. Chekov looked at the tricorder and then at Lapinski several more times before apparently reaching a decision. He held his tricorder up and snapped a picture of the map, and then carried the unit over to Lapinski. He stood at attention a little to the side of the group, waiting to be acknowledged.

"What?" asked Lapinski.

"Sir, I have a favor to ask of you." Chekov said quietly.

"Which is?"

"Do you mind if, instead of sticking to the original plan and working in north to south laying plots, I work in an east to west one?" Chekov held up the tricorder, which displayed a small copy of the map. The paths he was discussing were lit up. Lapinski took the tricorder and studied it.

"I can't believe you would be willing to change your hero Mr. Spock's logical, preordained plan. Seems very un-worshipful disciple like of you." said Lapinski.

"Yes sir. Ordinarily I wouldn't, but Mr. Spock designed the plots to separate the workers over the greatest possible area. As our group is so much smaller now, I think it will not be necessary to be so careful to avoid duplication as it once was. Working from east to west, all the work groups will intersect the river several times each day. It is cooler by the water. As you said, it is quite hot today. It will be good to have opportunities to cool down regularly as we work." Chekov paused while Lapinski studied the map. He added, "We can switch back to the original plan when Mr. Spock returns. We will have shortened the north/south corridors, but we will not have dramatically altered them."

"Yeah, I imagine you will go right back to Mr. Spock's original plan and somehow you'll never get around to mentioning that you didn't think enough of it to stick with it when he was gone. You're sneaky Chekov, I knew there had to be some explanation for your success." Lapinski didn't look up from the map as he spoke, and his tone was the mocking, condescending one he seemed to reserve just for the ensign.

Chekov opened his mouth, Ziem thought he was going to argue, but he must have had second thoughts, because he said nothing. He just stood and waited, until Lapinski handed him the tricorder.

"If you are determined to get sunstroke, go ahead. And walk whatever way you want. But you're on your own; I don't think anyone is going to go with you." Lapinski sounded disinterested, but not antagonistic.

Chekov looked at Martin, who looked a little chagrined, but said, "Sorry, Pav, I'll go out later with Tim. It's just too hot."

Rudolph laughed and said, "I'm going to fulfill my duties as a security officer and carefully watch these two lose all their money to me in a poker game."

"Enjoy your dreams Rudolph; the reality is going to be different." Lapinski said.

"Stay and play Pav," laughed Martin. "You've always got money."

"Thank you, later." said Chekov, who was now looking questioningly at Wilson.

"I think it would be better if I stayed here. I'm going to rerun the data we've collected so far. Because of the, discrepancies." said Wilson apologetically.

No one had asked her if she planned to work, but Sascheja volunteered in her instructing voice, "I am going to side with the majority on this decision. It is quite hot, and I do not like the sun. I believe the ensign is correct in his interpretation of the orders, and do feel somewhat guilty doing so. But I am technically not even part of this work party, and if the real members aren't going, I don't think I will. If it cools down later, I am willing to go out for a few hours then."

Ziem found the medical officer irritating, and could tell by the lieutenants' expressions that they did too. She tried to control her reaction, reminding herself it wasn't the Venzi woman's fault that her standard was so formal; she had probably learned it as an adult, maybe at the academy. Many crew members were not really fluent outside their work areas. But Sascheja always sounded as if she resented being forced to simplifying herself for not very bright listeners.

"Alright," the ensign fussed with the cover on the tricorder and then turned to go. "I will be back at 1800 hours."

Ziem stood up, "Where are we starting from? I need to log it in."

The little ensign stopped and grinned up at her. "Are you going to come with me?"

"I am your security escort. I have to go." She answered.

"See Pav, you're dragging poor Sabide out in this heat too. Just stay here and both of you can lose your money to me." Martin wheedled. The ensign looked worriedly up at Ziem.

"No, I wish to go. I planned to go." Ziem tried to think of the right way to say it. Finally she said, "I believe it is my responsibility to go." She gave Rudolph a meaningful gaze, but instead of feeling recalled to duty, he laughed and ignored her.

Chekov however, gave her a very grateful look, and asked hopefully, "Do you wish to carry a tricorder?"

"I would, honestly, I would if I could. But Mr. Giotto has been very specific about us not assisting with the survey work." Ziem said.

"Just so you know Ziem, he's not here, and I'm not going to tell him, so he wouldn't ever know. If you are going to go drag around in the desert for six hours you might as well be useful." Rudolph said.

Ziem flushed. She felt torn. She agreed with Rudolph. It was unnecessarily cautious for her to spend the next six hours watching the ensign work, but she had never deliberately disobeyed any order before. Dozing off yesterday made her want to be exemplary for the remainder of the assignment. But she could tell by their expressions that the young men all thought she was being overly fastidious.

"I am sorry," she said, "I can't." Rudolph and Martin chuckled like she was an old joke, and Lapinski looked at her with outright scorn. She knew that as soon as she walked away they would all be laughing at her. She hated that feeling. Her resolve was weakening when she felt a tug at her sleeve. She looked down. Chekov smiled up at her.

"I forgot what Mr. Giotto said. You should not disobey him. If you did, I would not be able think of my work. I would stare out into space lost in guilt and waste all the afternoon. You should do what you know is right and both of us will be happier." Ziem felt a little better.

Lapinski snorted derisively, but Rudolph said, "Pav, only you would say it helps you out for her to do absolutely nothing." He turned to the two lieutenants and said, "And the thing is, he seem like he honestly believes it. Really, it's kind of inspiring. He almost makes me feel guilty. Not guilty enough to go drag a tricorder around in this heat, but almost."

"Sure it does." said Lapinski.

"Well, okay, honestly, not even really even close to almost, but a little, and that is pretty good." said Rudolph with a smile and a nod to the ensign.

Chekov laughed. "Thank you, I think. But when we come back I will be very hot, covered in bird shit, and hungry. You will not find me even a little inspiring then I don't think. So now Lieutenant Sabide, we should go to work or my fine speech will have been for nothing. I wish to leave Randy his good opinion of me as long as possible." He walked off towards the plots, still laughing to himself, and Ziem trudged after him, feet sinking again in the dusty Phadruan soil.

Chapter 13
Afternoon, the Third Day

Chekov's expectations for the afternoon were correct. It was very hot. The sun glared down, and Ziem could feel the heat from the sandy ground through her boots. Their uniforms were designed to radiate heat away from their bodies, but the exposed skin of her face and hands felt tight and her lips and nose were uncomfortably dry. The birds were out in force, and Chekov gave up even trying to protect the tricorder, it was soon slick and dirty.

Ziem worked hard at following the protocols the chief had outlined for the mission. Feeling ridiculous, she circled around the parameter of the work party, in this case a single ensign playing on his PADD and mostly ignoring the tricorder slung around his neck until it signaled him to walk to the next stop. She scouted the horizon for trouble, and then doubled back to check in with him. He never had anything threatening to report. He would look up at her with a pleasant, expectant expression, but he never initiated conversation.

After her third silent pass through, Ziem reflected that the afternoon was going to go very slowly if they didn't exchange a word. She missed Lieutenant Uhura, who had chattered charmingly all the time they worked together. Somehow the communications officer had asked enough questions to get Ziem talking, and the time had gone quickly. As both she and the ensign were reserved, she was afraid it was possible that each would pass the entire day waiting for the other to speak. Faced with hours of silence, Ziem decided she must think of something to draw him into conversation.

Working her way back to the ensign, Ziem tried to remember how Lieutenant Uhura had gotten her to talk while they worked together. Somehow asking him to describe his home seemed a little forced to her. Uhura had seemed genuinely interested in Bahz, but Ziem doubted she could pretend the same about Earth. She knew nothing about chess or wall ball, and she knew none of his other interests.

Feeling a little desperate, when she came up again to the young man she shoved her tricorder in front of him and barked, "Do you want to see where the captain's caravan has traveled?"

Looking surprised, he nodded. Then he watched the trace's path on Ziem's tricorder, concentrating very intently until her hand got sore from holding the machine out for him. Finally he looked up and asked her to speculate on where the caravan would eventually end up. He listened gravely to her thoughts, and then he asked her to explain her reasoning. She talked until his tricorder signaled him to move on. She was surprised, and a little embarrassed, to realize how long she had gone on. She scurried off to survey the area for signs of danger. He called after her to hurry back, and it occurred to her that perhaps he too had been trying to think of something to say.

When she was scouting, and by herself, Ziem found herself replaying the rest of the crew's decision to play cards in the afternoon. She was very frustrated with Rudolph, although she knew that she was being irrational. Once the lieutenants had decided to stay at the base camp one member of security had needed to stay. She had not wanted it to be her. She was frustrated because Rudolph had been so comfortable with doing nothing. She understood how frustrated the chief have been. She wished one could demand attitude.

Three hours exactly after he had left, Lieutenant Commander Giotto called in. Ziem was standing by Ensign Chekov when her comm pinged. The chief sounded tense. Their group had not yet reached the Truleyphadru clan compound. The driver said it would still be several hours before they did. They had been treated courteously, and their situation was unchanged from their departure. In the background Ziem could hear the doctor speaking. She couldn't make out his words, but his tone implied he was not enjoying the trip. Within his own division, the chief did not tolerate complaining. Ziem tried to imagine the chief confined for three hours in what he considered a potentially dangerous trap, with unhappy, noisy travelers. She decided she preferred to be hot and bored with one friendly ensign.

When the chief asked, she told him she was providing security for a work party. She was going to give more details, but Chekov shook his head vigorously when she started to talk, and so she stopped and instead asked the chief about night time watches. The chief told her to follow protocol, and then promised to check in when they reached the compound, and signed off.

"Why didn't you want me to talk to him?" asked Ziem.

"I just didn't want you to tell him how small our crew is." replied Chekov.

"Why not? They will probably figure out you are the only one who went out today eventually. And maybe a message from the captain would get them back to work." Ziem didn't understand why he would protect the lieutenants.

"Not necessarily, and they will probably do some work this afternoon. Lieutenant Lapinski is not correct; we are already behind on this project. But we couldn't catch up even if all of them worked all day, so it isn't a catastrophe for them to take a short break. If the captain called the group and told them to get to work Lieutenant Lapinski would be very angry. I would prefer he not be. And I just do not wish to be responsible for causing difficulties for anyone when it is possible that it is not necessary." The ensign's tricorder pinged and he started to the next analysis site. Ziem walked beside him.

"I don't understand why you don't want to get Lapinski in trouble. I would." Ziem was thoughtful.

"Do you think Lieutenant Lapinski is so bad?" Chekov asked.

"I really do. I can't stop thinking about this." Ziem sighed. Chekov smiled at her.

"You are lucky then, because you can't have known many truly bad people. Lieutenant Lapinski just wants to show that he can give orders to me. Which of course he can, he outranks me. He could have ordered me to stay at the base camp, and then I would not have had this chance to enjoy a walk in the sun and to talk with you." As he spoke the ensign smiled but continued to play with his PADD.

"So this really doesn't bother you?" Ziem couldn't imagine, she had replayed the morning's conversation in her head almost all day.

"A lot of it bothers me. I do not like the heat, I really wish I had brought a change of clothes, and I hate those birds. But if you mean our crew members, then no, I don't care what they do," He paused and then added, "That is not correct, I do care, but I have no power to change their minds. I have enough problems with," here the ensign paused and seemed to search for the right words, "my peers, without being the one who tattles." He smiled shyly up at Ziem. "That is the right word? Tattles?"

"Yes, that's right." said Ziem. She paused and then added. "You are nicer than me."

Chekov shook his head. "I am a realist."

After another hour they came to the river. Chekov suggested they take a break and Ziem agreed. After carefully setting his equipment and boots on an embankment, Chekov jumped in fully dressed. He paddled around happily and encouraged her to try it. Ziem wanted to, and even began to remove her boots. But she kept imagining armed Phadruans appearing from behind the shrubs and killing them both. She knew she would never be able to relax enough to enjoy herself and gave up. She compromised by sitting on the bank and letting her feet dangle over the edge. She kept her phaser on her, but she did lay back and enjoy the water, which was warm, but much cooler than the air, and felt really good. After a while Chekov got out and rummaged in his pack. He lay down next to her and popped open a box of chocolate milk. He took a drink and then handed it to her. Water running off him soaked her uniform. Her skin got wet, first at her side where he lay against her, and then pooling at the small of her back. Considering they were both fully dressed, it felt oddly intimate. It made her feel a little excited, like she was doing something daring. She said nothing. They lay still, enjoyed being cool, and shared the milk.

Eventually he said wistfully, "Too bad is not beer."

Ziem smiled but didn't reply. She would never have agreed to drink alcohol while on duty. But she did like to imagine a picnic with the ensign on the riverbank. She thought how nice it would be to have a tablecloth and shade from tall trees. Instead they ate lunch with their feet in the river. Chekov insisted Ziem have his rations, she ate both packets while he ate cold vegetables he had saved from night before. He shared some candy Mac had left. It was melty, but Ziem thought the whole meal was wonderful.

Eventually they went back to work. Ziem checked the perimeters and Chekov restarted his survey. When she finished her inspection she headed back in towards him. They walked awhile in companionable silence. Ziem picked up rocks to shim at the next flock of birds they ran into. He continued to work on the PADD. Ziem watched, trying to tell what it is he was doing. It wasn't a game; it looked more like a report. There were charts, but more figures than words.

"What are you doing?" Ziem realized after she spoke that her tone sounded suspicious. The ensign must have thought so too, his answer was evasive.

"I am recording an analysis of a potential construction site on the planet Phadru." He smiled at Ziem but she thought his eyes were a little worried.

"No, I mean, what are you doing with your PADD?" Ziem tried to make herself sound nicer, more conversational, and not angry.

The ensign hesitated, he held the PADD in the crook of his right arm, while the fingers of his left hand drummed nervously against it for several seconds. Then he nodded his head and said, "Mr. Spock didn't say not to tell anyone. And besides, you are head of security while Mr. Giotto is gone. You should know. There is something odd about the information we are downloading, the information on the tricorders."

"What's that?" asked Ziem.

"On the first night we were planet side Mr. Spock asked me to check the map, it is the mainframe for this mission and he wanted to be sure there were no problems with the data. At first everything looked perfect. Everyone's data looked good. But as I looked at it, I realized I recognized some portions. It seemed to me identical to the information in the report I read before we came. And it shouldn't be, because the information in that report is an amalgamation of several earlier surveys. It can't be identical, because there never was any one day that was just like that."

"So I tried to think of some specific thing I could check for, to see if my information had made it into the computer. Do you remember that on the first day here I found a plant that wasn't on the original survey? I noticed it because it was so brightly colored, and seemed out of place in this desert. It is out of place, it is not a native plant. It must have grown from a seed on some earlier worker's shoe. The important thing is that when I looked for the information on that plant in the main computer, and I couldn't find it. And I knew that I had downloaded all the data from my own tricorder just an hour earlier. And the records showed that I had, but it was not in there. It was as if the computer overrode the new information with old information.

"I told Mr. Spock what I had observed. He had me check all the tricorders and he and Mr. Wilson reloaded all the data and it seemed it have worked, until the next day, because when we checked the files they had again reverted to the original ones."

"But that doesn't make any sense." Ziem said.

"Exactly," Chekov replied. "There does not seem to be any reason to tamper with the data. It isn't like it is going to make any difference to the plans for this area. We tried to think of reasons anyone would go to the trouble to eliminate our analysis. We couldn't think of many, but Mr. Spock had one idea. He suggested that perhaps all the data was corrupted. If this area was never suitable for the refinery, it is possible that some pro industry growth group organized themselves to make it appear that it was. It would mean that there was an elaborate plan from the very beginning to make this region appear other than it is. It would be a lot of work to accomplish something not very important, there were other areas they could have built the refinery. And it is unlikely; we have since learned that some of the original scans were done before the site had even been chosen."

Chekov paused, and then he said, "The illogic of the idea does not appeal to Mr. Spock at all, particularly since we see very little significant changes between the new data and the old, but it very difficult to think of any other possibilities. In the meantime, he had me send the data off the tricorders to a more secure file on the Enterprise. I am also to take some scans with my PADD, and to copy of some of the analysis my tricorder does. That way we will know if the defective program is in the tricorders or the mainframe."

"Can you do that?" asked Ziem.

"A tricorder is just a computer programmed for analysis. And a PADD is also a computer. It can be programmed to do anything any other computer can do. It doesn't have the sensors a tricorder has, or the memory, or the power. But it can be programmed to be a weak approximation. And my PADD is unusually powerful." He looked up at her out of the corners of his eyes, "I have personalized it to be more useful to me."

"Gamer." teased Ziem. He smiled but said nothing. They walked awhile longer. The ensign continued to tap on his PADD. Ziem mulled over the information she had been given. She tried to think of other reasons for the data corruption, but couldn't think of any.

"Who would be able to corrupt the memory banks on a computer?" asked Ziem.

Mr. Chekov looked at her with surprise. "Half the crew could do that. No, more than half, anyone who is a competent code writer could do it. The programs associated with this mission are not strongly protected, there didn't seem to reason to make them so. This is not vital work, and so many people will be involved in it would make it complicated to make it completely secure."

"Really? You could do that?" Ziem tended to think of all machines as equal and necessary evils. She had no interest in how they worked.

Chekov looked at her with surprise, "Oh easily. I could do it right now, from here using this PADD. And I could fix the problem too. And unless they were very good I might be able to trace the program back to its creator. But Mr. Spock believes it will be more useful to allow whomever it is to continue, so that we may eventually learn their purpose. So in the meantime, I have a great deal of data to back up."

They walked a little further and Ziem thought some more. It seemed impossible that the wasteland around her was the site of industrial intrigue. She tried to think of additional explanations for the changes in the computer programs, but she could not. She considered the crew members back at camp.

"Does Mr. Lapinski know?" asked Ziem.

Chekov nodded. "Mr. Spock explained the situation this morning."

"I can't believe he isn't doing more to help." Ziem was growing angrier as they spent more time in the hot sun.

"He can't really do anything. He does not have my highly specialized PADD." Chekov reminded her placidly.

"Oh yeah, I forgot your souped up PADD." said Ziem.

"Souped up?" Chekov looked up at her with a quizzical expression. "Like soup to eat?"

"Oh, that means made fancy, or you know, fixed up. People usually say it about machines, especially personal transports." Ziem started to blush, and Chekov grinned at her.

"I should have shown my PADD to the Phadruans last night." He said. "They might have thought we were more important if they realized I am the owner of a souped up PADD. Maybe given us more respect?"

"Maybe," laughed Ziem. "But I think for respect from them you are going to have to paint it gold and scarlet and maybe glue some feathers to it."

"And even then, I will still be Captain Kirk's servant, and not important. I guess I must just accept that I will never deserve the respect of Clan Truleyphadru, and somehow try to continue anyway." Chekov tried to look sad, but couldn't keep from smiling. Ziem laughed harder, until her comm pinged, and then she jumped to answer it. It was the chief.

"We are arrived." Giotto sounded tense. "Send these coordinates to the Enterprise so that they know where to look for us if things go south. And listen in, if you hear sounds of an attack when they open these doors get us support immediately."

He would have already contacted the ship himself. She realized he was using her as a backup, in case he was immediately incapacitated. In case, she thought, he died. She held the communicator tightly and listened. Chekov stood next to her and chewed his lip. Her stomach churned but she kept her demeanor professional. They could hear Geoff and the doctor in the background, Geoff giving instructions and the doctor objecting. The captain laughed, perhaps at something the doctor said? Their eyes met and they smiled at each other, because the captain was invincible, and that meant their friends would be fine.

They heard the whoosh of the vehicle door opening. They could hear the chief's exhalation when he jumped out of the cart. Security was always first on the ground. He didn't say anything for a few seconds, and then he called to Geoff, "Looks clear, bring 'em out."

Geoff's acknowledgement was lost in the sounds of the away team leaving the comparative safety of the vehicle. As the crew stepped out the noise level went up. They were clearly in a crowd. Ziem could hear many voices, but no words. Not understanding what they were hearing made it easy to hear anger and threats from what might very well be welcomes. But Ziem could imagine the team, surrounded by grinning Phadruans, inside a walled compound and under attack. She strained to hear the sounds of aggression, projectiles or phased energy, but all she could hear was excited chatter. She could feel her heart beat in her throat. She fought down the desire to call to the chief. She did not want to distract him from his work, but she desperately wanted to hear his analysis. She reminded herself to breathe.

"Sabide," said the chief, his voice was grumpy, which meant he was alert but not worried. "It looks alright so far. I am going to send you some scans of the buildings and the terrain. Watch our coordinates and I will check in within the hour, but so far, so good."

"Thanks chief. We'll wait to hear from you." Ziem was embarrassed by her tremulous voice. Chekov smiled up at her reassuringly, which she found annoying, because she felt certain he had been as nervous as she had been.

"Giotto out." In the background she heard McCoy say, "I'm a doctor, not..." and then the communicator went dead as the chief closed his.

"That is a relief." Chekov sighed.

Still irritated, but trying not to show it, Ziem said, "I guess we will never get to know what Dr. McCoy isn't."

"Don't worry about that. You will get to hear him say what he isn't many, many times." Chekov went back to work, adjusting first his tricorder and then his PADD. Ziem walked beside him. Watching him work made her feel calmer.

"What do you mean, we will hear it many times?" she asked.

Chekov snorted. "He says that often. Usually to explain why he cannot do what he will shortly end up doing any way. The captain doesn't even listen anymore except to tease him. I always want to say that most of the things he claims he isn't are not precluded by being a doctor anyway." He paused and added, "I never would of course. But I want to."

"You must see him a lot if you know that much about how he talks." Ziem said.

"He is on the bridge more than you would suppose. He is a close friend of the captain. I hear them talk quite a bit." Chekov replied.

"It must be fun being on the bridge, and seeing all the action up close." Ziem remembered that Uhura had told her the ensign worked the same alpha bridge shift as she did.

"I think it is probably like most jobs. Some of it is very interesting, and some of it is not so much." Chekov looked thoughtful and continued, "I like navigation, and I get plenty of time to think, and I like that. The captain lets me scribble my ideas and work on formulas as long as I am ready when he needs me, which I am careful to be."

He paused again, and then looked at her shyly and added. "Often I think the officers I work with are the best part. They are amazing, all of them. You know the captain, he is like no one else, and I get to watch him think and decide and all the time I feel so lucky. And Mr. Spock is..." He gestured and seemed at a loss for words. Eventually he started again.

"He is so smart, so, so smart, much smarter than I will ever be. And calm and brave all the time. I admire him very much. Do you want to know something surprising?" Chekov looked expectantly at Ziem. She nodded and he continued. "He says many witty things. People do not always pay attention, but I do. And I think he sometimes says things in an amusing way on purpose." He paused and then spoke a little slower, like he wasn't sure what he was saying, "I wonder often if it is hard for him always to be surrounded by people who don't think the way he does. Do you think that would be difficult? I think it would be exhausting."

Ziem had never considered what it must be like to be the least emotional one on the ship. It was hard, she knew, to look differently than most of the crew. She wondered if it was as difficult to think differently.

"I always heard Vulcans don't have emotions." she said.

"I do not know a great deal on the subject. But I understand that they do not choose to express their emotions, which is different than not having them." He paused and then said so quietly she almost didn't hear him, "I know they feel sorrow."

The ensign sounded wistful and he averted his eyes. Ziem couldn't read his expression. Ziem remembered that he had been on the ship on its maiden voyage, had seen Vulcan destroyed. She decided to change the topic.

"Tell me more about the bridge crew." Ziem said.

Ensign Chekov seemed to have reached the same decision as Ziem. He went back to the previous subject with a determined air. "There is Science Officer 0718. He is very interesting. Not a friend, and not witty like Mr. Spock, but very interesting. When he is on the bridge and is communicating with Mr. Spock, I can feel like the most average person imaginable. And that is sometimes nice." Ziem laughed and he looked pleased.

"Tell more." She said.

"Well, there is Lieutenant Uhura. You know her. She is smart, she knows so many languages! And she is always patient and kind to me. And she is brave! In battle, but also in life, and she does not allow even the captain to tease her. I wish I could decipher how she does that, but, it probably would not work for me. And there is Mr. Sulu, he is the best."

"Best pilot?" asked Ziem. She had heard that was true.

"He is the best pilot, but I meant he is the best person I know. He is smart and kind and brave, and an excellent athlete, so, so competent at everything. And he knows everyone on the ship, and everyone likes him because he is funny and good tempered. He always includes me when he has fun, and he doesn't have to. I admire him more than even the captain I think. I feel very lucky be their navigator, because if I was not they would not know me."

"They might. It's a small ship. We all meet each other eventually. They would probably still like you" said Ziem.

Chekov shook his head. "No. I am very good at math, but I am not amazing in any other way. Captain Pike picked me to be his navigator because of my simulator scores at the academy. He had never even met me. If he hadn't I would probably still be there, working in some depressing engineering lab and telling people their life's work was mathematically unbuildable."

"I think you're selling yourself short." Ziem remembered something and added, "Last night I heard Captain Kirk tell the chief that you were the only junior officer he really wanted to take on the trip today." Ziem tried to remember precisely what the captain had said, she was pretty sure it had been complimentary.

"Is that true?" asked Chekov doubtfully.

"Yes. But Mr. Spock said you were the only one here he could count on to do any work if left unsupervised and pretty much insisted they leave you." That Ziem did remember clearly. "And it turns out, he was right."

Chekov smiled shyly at his PADD and then looked up at Ziem. He said, "Well, I did tell you that Mr. Spock is smart." He paused and then added. "Thank you Lieutenant, you made me feel very happy by telling me these things."

As Uhura had said he would, he pronounced it "wery happy", which somehow made Ziem feel very happy herself. She liked seeing him smile, and for once she didn't feel awkward leaning down to look in his face. She just felt good, and glad she could please him. Realizing how much his happiness pleased her made her feel self-conscious, and again, she rushed to find something to say to change her mood.

"Can you explain something to me?" she blurted.

Looking surprised, he nodded.

"Why do you have so many nicknames?"

"Oh, that is simple. I thought you would ask something hard. My given name is Pavel. Most Americans make diminutives by shortening a name, so they tend to call me Pav. But in Russian the diminutive is Pasha, and that is what my family calls me. So when people on the ship decide they like me, they usually just begin to call me Pav. But when I want someone to be my friend, when I am seeking friendship, I usually ask them to call me Pasha. Does that make sense?" He seemed to have explained it before.

"Why don't you just tell everyone to call you Pasha?" asked Ziem.

"I don't mind being Pav. Although I did not know at first that people were talking to me when they said it. I didn't understand American naming habits until Lieutenant Uhura explained them to me. But I am always happy to be thought of. I don't care what they call me."

"It's the opposite for me. My given name is Ziem Sabide. But many of my people make it longer. They call me Ziemmie or worse, ZimZim. No one ever asks me either. They just do it. It's annoying. I don't think I look at all like a Ziemmie."

"And what does a Ziemmie look like?" asked Chekov.

"Ziemmie sounds sweet. I am going to guess that a Ziemmie looks far less intimidating than I do." Ziem answered.

"Maybe you don't seem intimidating to the other members of security." Chekov grinned playfully up at her. "Maybe you seem like a sweet little girl."

"I seem like a sweet little girl? You better be careful Ensign Chekov, keep it up and you may end up seeing just how intimidating I can be."

Chekov threw his hands up in mock surrender, waving his PADD above his head. "In that case, I should stay on your good side. How about Lieutenant Sabide, if you called me Pasha?" He paused and then added, "See how I did that?"

"Oh, I see, very smooth. I threaten you once, just a little bit, and immediately I get moved to the Pasha track. I guess I should have started bullying you days ago. We would have been friends and you would have given me all your milk by now. Okay Pasha, how about you call me Ziem then?"

"I like the name Ziem. Very pronounceable, which you probably noticed is not always the case for me. I will be happy to call you Ziem. And I think it sounds pretty without any changes at all." The two of them smiled at each other, then his tricorder chirped, and they went back to work.