Chapter 19
Afternoon, the Fourth Day

The afternoon passed dusty, hot, and full of bird shit. Ziem was busier than on previous days, as she was the only security guard she had farther to walk and more notations to take, but the work was still not demanding. Neither Lapinski nor Sascheja spoke, not to each other and not to her. She enjoyed her time with Martin and Wilson more. Wilson was the first crew member she had worked with on the mission who seemed to pay any attention to the actual work. When she visited with him he described the terrain from a geological standpoint, and talked about its evolution. He couldn't make Phadru's desolation interesting, but he did make it less boring, and she enjoyed the time she spent with him. Martin was pleasant each time she checked in with him, although he did pump her for details of the morning's hunt. She didn't trust him not to use anything she said to try and make Lapinski mad, and so told him as little as was politely possible, but that did not deter him from asking.

At 1700 Lapinski got on the comm and sent out a group message.

"Hey," he said. "It's been ten hours. I say we head back to camp. I could use a swim and maybe some dinner, even if it is going to be more fish."

The crew began to shut down the equipment and gather together for the walk back to camp. Everyone looked tired; Lapinski's eyes were ringed with red. They all moved slowly, like they were old. No one talked much.

They had gotten just close enough to see the camp when Lapinski broke the silence to tell them to leave their tricorders by the map. He said Chekov would need to clean them when he got back and it would be better to have them all together.

"Seriously Tim?" asked Martin.

"Let me think," said Lapinski. "Yes."

"You don't think spending the whole afternoon chasing after birds is enough? You want him to spend the evening cleaning up after them too?,"

"Are you offering to do it for him?" Lapinski asked. "Because if you're not, then shut up. It has to be done and it's his job. And Spock wants him to check the data before we download it anyway."

"You know," Martin continued, "when he finally drags in empty handed we still won't have anything he's willing to eat for dinner."

"That is not my fault. He's welcome to his share of what we have." Lapinski said.

"He can have mine," Wilson said mildly.

"And mine," Martin said.

Lieutenant Lapinski looked like he had a few more things he wanted to say, but Sascheja interrupted him by pointing in the general direction of the camp and asking, "What is that?"

Ziem saw a thin trail of white smoke drifting into the sky. Reaching into her pack she grabbed the extra phaser and handed it to a shocked looking Martin. Turning to the group she said, "Lapinski, stay with the crew. Try to find some cover. If you see or hear something bad, or if you don't hear from me in ten minutes, call the ship and ask for emergency transport out. Come on Martin, you're with me." Without looking to see if her orders were followed, she drew her phaser and started to jog towards camp.

"Do we call the ship?" Martin asked.

"Not yet, I want an idea of what we are up against, and it may be nothing, it is probably nothing, just more Phadruan visitors. I don't want to panic."

"Then what's the plan?" asked Martin shakily, he had to run hard to keep up with her.

"We split up; you go around and come in from the north side. Don't be seen, and don't go in until we have some sort of idea what we are up against. Silence your comm, but if you're secure call me when you get in position. Call for help at the first sign of something bad."

"Aye sir," said Martin, turning left and running towards the far side of the camp.

Cursing the stark Phadruan landscape, Ziem tried to be careful as she got closer to the camp. Eventually she dropped to the ground and crawled up a small rise to peer from behind some rocks. Nothing on the plain was going to completely hide her, but she hoped she was less obvious. She could see no one. Their camp site looked unchanged from when they had left it that morning. The smoke continued to rise fitfully, there was never a lot and it didn't rise steadily like it came from something that was burning. She couldn't see its source; it seemed to be coming from the area of the fire pits, behind the tents, but she wasn't sure.

She put on her visors and checked the camp carefully. The visors were helpful, but not perfect. They let her see heat. If there were living beings in the camp she should be able to make out their figures, get an idea of numbers and perhaps species. But even under the best of circumstances the visors were only minimally helpful, and the heat from the Phadruan sun reflecting off the tent walls interfered with them quite a bit. She strained her eyes and looked around the camp. She thought she saw some movement by the fire pits. She looked harder and saw it again. She couldn't see any details, just movement and rough size, but there seemed to be at least half a dozen large humanoid figures. Staying low, she went closer.

Entering the camp Ziem moved slowly and used the tents as cover as she worked her way to the fire pits. She paused behind the tent closest to the pits. The afternoon was so still that even from that distance she could hear voices. She froze, and listened intently, trying to identify the language.

"Jim I am telling you, you need to talk to the quartermaster. No one ever eats these salmon ration packs. That's all that's left here. It's ridiculous to even send them out. It wastes time to pack them and it wastes time to return them to stock. Just ban them from the ship and have done with it." The voice was a man's, speaking perfect Standard.

"Doctor, while I acknowledge that all beings have flavors they prefer to others, over attention to such matters, like most purely sensory experiences, may become a distraction from the work at hand. As all the rations are equally nutritious, undo concern about taste, texture, or packaging is not conducive to the success of this, or any, mission." The second voice, also speaking in Standard seemed familiar to Ziem. The speaker sounded serene, calm. She attempted to peep around the tent, but the angle was wrong.

"Bones is right Spock. I'm not eating that. No one should eat that. I will take it up with the quartermaster. And you know what else I am going to say? If the mission is supposed to last less than a week I don't think it would kill them to toss in some fresh actual food. Fruit wouldn't take up any more room than artificial fish does. It wouldn't be such a big deal having horrible meals if people could at least have a snack." The third voice, strong and friendly, Ziem knew immediately. Without lowering her weapon she stepped around the tent.

"Captain Kirk?" she asked.

The captain, Mr. Spock and Dr. McCoy had the ration box open and were examining the leftover packages. The chief was leaning against the makeshift table it sat on, his back to them, his arms crossed and an angry look on his face. Hendorff was in the pit, ineptly feeding kindling to a very balky fire. Tremaine sat on one of the rock stools, watching Hendorff and grimacing as she used her hand to wave the smoke away from her face. Uhura was seated next to her, and next to her was Burri, the Phadruan driver. He had a small universal translator on his lap. The captain grinned when he saw Ziem.

"Lieutenant, what did you guys do with all the rest of the food?" he asked.

"Stand down Sabide. We're back." said the chief in a resigned voice. He did not sound any happier than he looked, perched as far away from the other senior officers as he could be and frowning.

Ziem holstered her weapon and after a glance at the chief opened her comm.

"Martin?" she asked.

"I can't see anyone from this angle Lieutenant, but I can see that box like vehicle the captain's group took to the party. I wonder if it could the away team come back early?" whispered Martin.

"Come on in Martin. It is the chief. Oh, and the captain and everyone. I guess you're right, they got back early. Call Lapinski and have him come on in too." Ziem said. Certain now that there was no danger, she began to feel angry. Ignoring everyone else she turned to Chief Giotto. She didn't trust herself to speak.

Giotto said, "I apologize for not notifying you of our arrival Sabide. It turns out Burri can actually drive much faster than he did on the way to the compound. The trip home was significantly quicker, which we didn't realize until we arrived about half an hour ago. The captain thought it would be fun to surprise everyone." His tone improved Ziem's mood, even made her smile a little. This mission was hard on the chief. She knew what he thought about fun in general, and fun preventing him from following established, agreed upon routines was more than he could tolerate gracefully.

The captain smiled too and said, "We planned to have dinner waiting for you, but no one can eat this crap. We were just discussing what to do. I don't suppose there are any decent rations left?"

"There isn't anything else sir. The uh, visitors ate a great deal. Mr. Lapinski requested more from the ship, but they refused until they heard it from you. They can only respond when the assigned CO orders additional supplies." Ziem realized that she was explaining regs to the captain of a starship and cut herself off. Captain Kirk did not seem to mind. He was listening like it was perfectly normal for lowly lieutenants to tell him how Starfleet worked. She felt very foolish and wished she had said less. She looked over at the chief to see what she should be doing. He nodded at her. He seemed happier. It occurred to her that he was probably reassured to know that someone, somewhere, was following the regulations.

"Yeah, I know," said the captain. "I've had this happen before, it's inconvenient."

"You could occasionally try staying with the original mission plan." said Dr. McCoy. "Then it wouldn't be such a problem."

Chief Giotto smiled approvingly. The captain rolled his eyes.

Ziem felt compelled to add, "I am sure they will send more as soon as you call. We have been making do with what we have." Behind the captain Geoff stepped out of the fire pit so he could see her. He smiled encouragingly and waved. Ziem sighed and hoped she wasn't blushing again.

Martin trotted into camp Then Lapinski arrived from the opposite direction with the rest of the team. There were greetings and explanations. It was noisy until the chief asked where Rudolph was.

"He's still in the field with Mr. Chekov sir." answered Ziem.

"Why aren't they with the rest of you?" asked the captain.

"Perhaps Mr. Lapinski should explain." Ziem said, hoping her voice didn't sound as satisfied as she felt to be finally able to say it.

Giotto turned to Lapinski, clearly expecting an explanation. The lieutenant didn't answer for a few seconds, but stood with a thoughtful expression, like he was reasoning out what to say.

"Lapinski, where is Chekov?" asked Captain Kirk in a much sterner voice than Ziem had heard him use before.

"Well," began Lapinski. "You know the ration situation sir. I had an idea to supplement our food sources."

Martin interrupted. "Wait," he said, "I think that may be them."

Lapinski stopped speaking and looked the direction Martin was pointing. Ziem thought he seemed relieved. She turned and could see Chekov and Rudolph before they saw her. They weren't paying much attention, were just wandering their way through the tents, coming gradually toward the fire. Chekov was walking almost sideways, looking up at Rudolph and speaking very enthusiastically. Rudolph was laughing at whatever it was he heard. They were filthy, far worse than any of the survey takers. Their uniforms were crusted with dirt and streaked with bird waste. There were feathers stuck to their uniforms. And they were each carrying four dead, plucked and gutted birds, two in either hand.

They came around the last tent. Rudolph saw the crew first; he stopped abruptly and stared at them with a surprised expression. Chekov stopped talking and turned to see what Rudolph was looking at. He looked shocked, and then dismayed. He glanced at Mr. Spock, then down at the birds in his hands. He frowned.

"You're back." said Rudolph.

"Hey." said Hendorff. "You two don't look good."

"What have you been doing?" Lieutenant Uhura asked.

Chekov crossed his arms defensively over his chest. The dead birds swung gently back and forth beside him. His hands were stained a rusty brown, and his face was streaked with the same color. Ziem suspected it was dried blood. He bit his lower lip and frowned at Lapinski.

"My God Jim, we were gone for a day and a half and it turned into Lord of the Flies around here." said the doctor.

"And Pav, I think we all know who's Simon on this island." the captain said kindly.

Chekov looked up at the sky and muttered under his breath.

"Wow." said Rudolph, looking down at his companion. "You're right. Russian swear words really do sound scarier than Standard ones."

Chekov gave Rudolph a scathing look, then reached over and yanked the dead birds out of the taller man's hands. He stomped over to Lapinski.

"Sir," he said sulkily. "Here, as per your orders, are eight chickens. They are cleaned and ready to cook. If it is convenient sir, I would like to bathe before I start on the tricorders, sir." Chekov held out the birds.

"The captain's back ensign, you can report to him." said Lapinski, gesturing towards Kirk.

Chekov turned to the captain, who said, "I heard. Go. Cleaning up is a great idea. In fact, don't even feel like you have to wear that shirt tonight if you can't get it a lot cleaner. Just save it for when you are by yourself in the field tomorrow."

"Where do you want the chickens?" asked Chekov.

"Set them over on the table I guess. Did you really kill those things?" asked Kirk.

"Yes sir," said Chekov unhappily.

Burri had jumped up and pushed his way to the front to stand next to the captain. He looked at the birds appreciatively and said, "Excellent hunting Pavel Andreievich Chekov. Too bad you didn't get enough for us all, but I will add some things and we will eat well tonight! What did you use to get these? Did you envelope them in a force field? Use traps? Net?"

Chekov didn't answer. He stood at rigid attention, stared steadily at the air between the captain and the doctor and didn't say anything.

"Chekov?" asked the captain. "Aren't you going to tell us how you kill the birds?"

The ensign sighed and said quietly, "I used my blanket. Sir, I would like very much to go and wash."

"A blanket?" asked McCoy.

"Go, go." said Kirk with a run along gesture. Chekov trudged off, still looking unhappy. Rudolph watched him go, then turned and offered the chief an elaborate salute.

"Go clean up." Giotto said. Rudolph bowed and started after Chekov.

"Did he say he used a blanket?" asked Doctor McCoy.

"Lieutenant Lapinski." Mr. Spock's composed voice cut through everyone else's chatter. "I would like to go over the work accomplished by the crew in our absence, and then discuss your decision to ignore the supplied rations in favor of the slaughter of local wildlife."

Lapinski rolled his eyes, but replied "Yes sir." in a hearty, enthusiastic manner. He followed the Vulcan first officer toward the map. Martin watched them go, and then smiled happily at Ziem, who half expected him to rub his hands together in delight at his friend's predicament.

"Hey Burri," said Geoff. "Want me to help you?"

"Fine idea Geoff Hendorff, but first I will easily fix your laughable and unsuccessful attempt at a fire. You go and get us shovels. I can easily direct you where to dig. We will need lots more roots to make this bit enough for us all, but even more we will also need a fire that makes heat and not just smoke. How did you get to adulthood without competency at basic fire making skills?"

Martin, Tremaine, and Uhura all offered to go dig potatoes. The captain shocked Ziem by saying he would help too. Sascheja and Wilson offered excuses about needing to check on their own work and slipped away. Ziem sat down and pulled out her PADD, she knew Chief Giotto would want a detailed report and she wanted to review the last twenty four hours quickly first. While she waited Ziem could hear the doctor and the chief talking. The doctor looked very serious, like he had important questions.

"Giotto," McCoy asked. "Did you hear that boy just say he killed those birds with a blanket?"

Chapter 20
Evening, the Fourth Day

Burri ground the potato like roots into a fine paste, and cooked them with a few pieces of the birds and some herbs he found, making a sort of stew with dumplings. He found some onion like plants, stuffed them into the remaining birds and roasted them together. Then he used the last eggs, more roots and onions to make a frittata like dish. It took some coaxing from Lieutenant Uhura, but Burri begrudgingly agreed to make a chicken free version of the stew for Mr. Spock. Even after he had begun to cook it he continued to complain, insisting the soup would not be worth eating without meat. Eventually the novelty of the challenge began to appeal to him, and he switched to bragging about what a fine cook he was to be able to make such an odd dish.

While the food cooked, Mr. Spock asked Burri many questions. He wanted to know all about the birds, were they migratory, did they have other breeding grounds; did the people of Phadru rely upon them for daily food? Then Mr. Spock began to ask the same sort of questions about the herbs and plants. Burri seemed to enjoy the interrogation. He answered every question thoroughly. Mr. Spock listened politely, although, Ziem reflected, most people would probably have preferred more direct answers. Burri tended to add long reflections on his own fabulous experiences as hunter, gatherer, and chauffeur, much of which seemed to Ziem to have very little to do with the original questions. Mr. Spock was patient. He listened to everything and did not interrupt, although occasionally he would ask Burri to repeat things that Ziem thought had nothing to do with birds.

When the meal was ready the captain made the crew wait until everyone was together around the fire and then thanked Burri for cooking. Burri was thrilled with the attention, and bragged until it was his turn to fill his plate. Then he ate seriously, not even bothering to look up, but chewing quickly and occasionally praising his own excellent cooking, loudly, and with his mouth full.

Burri was correct, the dinner was fantastic. Gradually the mounds of food began to disappear. People began to eat more slowly, and then to stop, eventually just sitting and visiting quietly, enjoying the evening. At length Doctor McCoy stood up and began to speak in a voice loud enough for the whole group to hear.

"That was a fine meal. I would go so far as to say it was the best meal I've had in some time and that would include the excellent one we had prepared for us last night at the home of our friends the Clan Truleyphadru. I want to acknowledge the cook one more time, thank you Burri." The crew all clapped and Burri bowed, beaming with pleasure. The doctor continued, "But there is one question I still have not gotten a satisfactory answer to, and I would like one. Ensign Chekov, why don't you explain just how you used a blanket to get us tonight's dinner?"

Chekov, who had been reserved and skittish all the meal, glanced nervously at Mr. Spock and murmured, "I don't wish to speak about it." He started to stand, Ziem got the impression he was going to leave.

"Sit Chekov," said the captain. The ensign sighed and dropped back to the ground. Uhura frowned at their commanding officer. He said to her, "I want to know what happened, look at it as giving report." He turned to the younger man and asked, "Chekov?"

The younger man did not look happy, but he straightened his shoulders, put his head up and said, "Yes sir. At approximately 1200 hours, following Lieutenant Lapinski's order I left the survey team to find and kill eight birds. Accompanied by Mr. Rudolph I went to the area I thought was most likely to facilitate me doing so. It is located in the center of section 7 gamma on the schematic for the mission, by the river. We were able to fulfill our mission without difficulty and returned to base at 1730."

Ziem was impressed. She thought Pasha had done an excellent job. His report was succinct but covered all the pertinent information. She hoped Geoff had been listening, he could benefit from copying his friend. She glanced at the chief to see if he had enjoyed it as much as she had. She was surprised to see Mr. Giotto was looking at the captain with his mouth oddly twisted. It was an unusual expression, one she had never seen him make before.

"You didn't explain the blanket." McCoy said gruffly. The ensign sighed and looked at the captain.

"Or anything else interesting. You managed to make the whole adventure sound very boring Mr. Chekov," agreed Captain Kirk. "I believe we talked about that before we left the ship."

"It wasn't though," said Rudolph. "It wasn't boring at all. You should have seen it. It was actually kind of amazing. First, he took his blanket and tied a rock into one corner. Not a big one, one he could throw easy but tht was heavy enough to pull the rest of the blanket along behind it. Then he used it kind of like a net. First he made us walk all the way over to the nesting grounds. We went clear to the middle where the nests are packed so close together. He said it would be easier if the birds were crowded. And he was right. It's total chaos over there. All the birds are flying around and landing on top of each other and eating. They wouldn't let him get close enough to grab them. But if he didn't move eventually they would get within a couple meters or so of him. He just sat there and waited until a close one shoved its head down in the dirt and then he would toss his blanket over it, kind of overshoot it with the weighted corner so the bird was actually under the blanket itself. Whenever he managed to get one covered, he would jump on the blanket and kind of kneel over it, holding down the four corners on the blanket. After a while, not long, a few seconds maybe, the bird would just calm down. So then he would reach under the blanket, grab the thing, pull it out, ring its little neck and toss it to me. It didn't work every time, but when it did it was slick as a whistle."

"With your bare hands?" asked Tremaine. Chekov nodded without looking at her. She made a sad little sound. Chekov shrugged, then drew his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. He sat with his head resting on them, looking like he wished he were anywhere else.

"Please Beth, if you were going to object you should have done it before you ate them," said Rudolph. "Besides, it was fast. They didn't suffer. In fact it was so fast it didn't even bother their neighbors much. They would squawk and fuss when he jumped on one, but pretty soon they would have totally forgotten about it and be right back to feeding themselves. It was actually pretty easy, though it wasn't fun sitting perfectly still in the sun all afternoon. We underestimated how long it would take to clean them, or we wouldn't have been so late. We only had the one knife so I wasn't much help."

"Well I never met anyone who killed their own food before. It just makes me feel bad to think of the poor little birds." Tremaine said sadly.

"Shit filled, filthy chickens," corrected Chekov firmly.

"I grew up on a farm and I have killed a great deal of my own food." said Doctor McCoy. "Do you think whatever it was we ate at that feast last night wasn't alive at some point?" Turning to Chekov he asked, "Why didn't you just use a hatchet?"

Instead of answering, Chekov looked at Rudolph, who laughed and said, "Probably because I told him we didn't have any."

"We have hatchets and axes in the emergency supplies." said the chief.

"That's what he said!" laughed Rudolph. "I told him he was wrong."

"Rudolph, for the next month, after your regular shift, I am going to have you packing and unpacking the emergency supply kits. I hope it will help you remember what's in them next time you are in the field." snapped Giotto

"Okay, truthfully, I knew they were there chief, but we left from the field. I just didn't want to have to walk all the way back here to get them and then haul them around in that heat all day. We had a knife, and it worked out fine."

The captain turned to the chief and asked quietly, "Is he for real?"

Giotto looked at Rudolph with distaste. "Two months," he said coldly.

"Yes sir Mr. Giotto." said Rudolph resignedly.

"If you were out there all afternoon in that heat, how did you keep the meat from spoiling?" asked the captain.

"We built a little cooler in the river with rocks. We stored them there." answered Chekov.

"That was a good idea." said Captain Kirk.

"It was Lieutenant Sascheja's. I remembered her telling me moving water could be used to protect meat for short periods." Chekov said, nodding at the nurse, who sat up taller and looked Ziem thought, truly happy for the first time on the mission.

"A grasp of basic hygiene is of more benefit to the public than any other single health care issue. A good health care provider is prepared to educate underserved populaces on the topic at any time," the nurse said proudly. "I have saved and am prepared to share my research with the larger group Dr. McCoy."

"That won't be necessary," the doctor said quickly. The nurse looked disappointed and he added, "very impressive work though."

"I am impressed with Chekov." said Martin. He looked at his friend mischievously and added, "How about you Tim? Are you impressed? You probably are, because the ensign was impressive, right? Let's hear you say it."

Lapinski said bitterly, "Remind me Chekov, how do they score victories over poultry when they are ranking people for command school?"

Chekov glanced at the lieutenant, but didn't answer. He turned back to the fire and stared at it intently.

"You're jealous." Rudolph said.

"Mr. Rudolph, you are speaking to a superior officer," Giotto said. He sounded less angry than Ziem would have expected.

Rudolph nodded and said, "Sorry Chief Giotto." He turned to the lieutenant and said, "You're jealous sir." Martin choked off a laugh. The captain looked like he wished to join him.

Rudolph continued, "I mean, I've heard for a year now that he's a genius. I never believed it before, but watching him today I did."

"Are you saying," Geoff asked, "that nothing else he's ever done impressed you, but killing a bird does?"

"He killed eight birds." said Rudolph. After a beat he added, "Sir."

"Well, at least we know who's not a genius." the captain whispered to the chief, whose mouth did that odd twisty thing again.

Chekov frowned at the fire. Ziem watched at him curiously. Rudolph was complimenting him, in front of all the senior officers, and he was responding by pretending he couldn't hear. It made no sense to her. She could appreciate he did not wish to be disrespectful of their first officer. But Mr. Spock had barely commented on the birds-although that was perhaps natural, and Pasha had said Mr. Spock wouldn't act angry even if he was. Still, the captain was the real authority, and it was obvious he had been quite pleased by the catch. The rest of the crew had enjoyed the meal. She thought the hunting had ended up benefitting everyone. Surely he understood that supporting the team was more important than honoring an individual? He should be proud, not embarrassed. She wondered if she would ever completely understand humans.

"So is it true you were born this way?" Rudolph asked Chekov.

Chekov said quietly. "I knew what to do because I have done it before. In Taganrog there are chickens all over. My grandfather killed one out of his yard every Sunday. Sometimes I helped."

"Did he wrap them up in a blanket first?" asked McCoy.

Chekov sighed and shook his head. "Chickens don't fly in the dark. I made it dark for them and they didn't fight with me."

"Impeccable logic" said the doctor, nodding his head.

"Used to a very dubious end." said Mr. Spock, arching an eyebrow at McCoy. Chekov looked at him anxiously and then dropped his head to his knees again. Ziem wondered if she had underestimated Mr. Spock's distress, but he said no more.

"Captain," continued the first officer. "My discussions with the Phadruan driver Burri have convinced me that Mr. Chekov's terminology is essentially correct. The local birds are actually the descendants of escaped domesticated flocks. Burri states that while they do provide occasional protein in the diets of the local people, given the wealth of their society few Phadruan bother to hunt. The birds are prolific breeders, and not picky about either living or nesting environments. I see no reason their presence on this site should provide difficulties for the development of the planned facility."

"Great Spock." said the captain. After a pause he added, "What did that have to do with Chekov?"

Mr. Spock gazed impassively at the captain, before answering, "Chickens sir, the local birds are essentially chickens." Ziem had the feeling he was surprised at the question.

"Oh, sure." said the captain. Glancing down at the ensign he added, "Congratulations. Turns out you know your domestic fowl."

"He is a chicken super genius," whispered Lapinski. He spoke very quietly to Martin, who smiled, but Ziem heard him, and judging from Chekov's expression, he had too.

"Remind me to call the quartermaster in the morning." Kirk said to his yeoman. "We need more food and I get the feeling our mighty hunter wants to retire his blanket."

"Aren't we going home tomorrow?" asked Rudolph. "We can just wait until we get back to the ship to eat."

"We need to remain planet side at least two more days Mr. Rudolph." said Mr. Spock.

"Two days!" Martin and Rudolph said together. They sounded dismayed.

"Gentlemen, there are 153 man hours of work remaining in our assignment. We will be unable to finish the assignment in any less than two days." Ziem was beginning to realize that even without much emotion in his voice; Mr. Spock was able to give subtext to most things he said.

"But 153 hours is a lot more than two days." said Rudolph.

"Man hours, not hours," said Chekov quietly. Rudolph looked at him with confusion. "Oh never mind." said Chekov.

"Assuming full contingents of workers, we will be finished in two days." said Mr. Spock.

"Wait a second," interrupted Lapinski. "Are you saying sir, that your original estimates were wrong?" Looking at Chekov but speaking to Spock he added, "Are you saying you didn't actually know?"

Chekov turned on the lieutenant. He glared at him and said angrily, "He knew! The plan called for 4 teams of 2 workers doing 10 hour shifts. But since that actually happened exactly once on this mission we are behind. He wasn't wrong. We didn't work hard enough." Geoff kicked him lightly on the hip; Chekov sighed and added, "Sir."

"Mr. Chekov is again correct." said Mr. Spock. He seemed perhaps a little confused by the interaction between the two.

"Well, of course he is, he is after all the chicken super genius." said Lapinski.

"Hey mister," growled the chief.

"That's enough lieutenant." said the captain firmly. The two spoke at the same time. Lapinski didn't seem bothered and continued to smirk at Chekov who turned back to the fire. Uhura looked at him sympathetically.

Mr. Spock continued without acknowledging the interruption. "If four teams work 10 hours tomorrow we will have concluded 80 man hours of labor. We will send teams out again after a dinner break, thereby leaving less work for the next day. We will finish this assignment this week, tentatively on the second day from now. We shall certainly require more supplies to do so."

"I strongly suggest," said Dr. McCoy, "That we all get to bed now. Everyone is tired and we have a long day ahead of us."

"I concur." said Lieutenant Sascheja primly. The doctor shut his eyes wearily.

Chekov jumped to his feet and left without speaking. The rest of the crew began to stand and stretch and slowly make toward the tents. Geoff said he would take the first watch, and Ziem thanked him gratefully before joining the other women in their tent.