The turbolift door slid open and McCoy stepped onto the bridge, carrying his morning coffee. Kirk swung his command chair around and greeted him with little more than a grunt, then focused his attention back to the tablet in his hand. McCoy surveyed the early morning bridge crew. Chekov was at the science station, looking rather bored. Sulu was covering both navigation and helm, neither of which was much of a chore when in stable orbit around a friendly planet. Uhura was at her usual communications console. She alone of the bridge crew seemed cheerful, humming a tune as she monitored frequencies. McCoy sauntered in her direction.

"Good morning, Uhura," he said. "At least someone's in a good mood."

Uhura looked up and removed the Irving device from her ear. "Why, good morning, Doctor. Yes, it's a beautiful day, an exciting day."

Chekov looked over gloomily. "Vat is so beautiful about it?"

Uhura pointed at the viewscreen where red and gold Vulcan floated serenely underneath them. "Look at that, Gentlemen, and tell me it's not beautiful!"

Sulu snorted. "Sure, it's pretty enough, I guess. But a heavy gravity hot desert planet is not my idea of a great shore leave location."

"Den perhaps you will like Nu Aminta II," Chekov said. "Dead and frostbitten and lots of old dusty things."

"Boil or freeze," grumbled Sulu. "I've already frozen, and I don't think I'll try boiling."

He considered for a moment, then added, "But there are some plants on Vulcan I'd like to see..." He turned back to the screen with a heavy sigh.

McCoy shook his head, turning back to Uhura. "Beautiful we understand. But tell me why today is exciting for you, my dear."

"Well, two reasons, really. As a master linguist, I am anxious to see some things from Aminta II, perhaps get a shot at helping with the translation. And I am also looking very much forward to meeting one of our guests a little later."

"Which guest is that?" asked Kirk, looking up from his PADD, the first indication that he had been paying attention to the banter flying back and forth.

"Polthea of Altaire, of course." She looked incredulously at the blank stares she was receiving from everyone. "Don't tell me none of you have heard of her."

Kirk's brow furrowed. "I don't remember that name from the passenger roster, Uhura."

"Polthea is a stage name. She is on the guest list as T'Phol Grayson." More blank stares, except, she noted, from McCoy, who suddenly found the deck to be interesting.

"So," said Chekov, "Do you want to let us all in on the secret of the amazing whoever she is?"

Uhura nodded. "I'll do better than that, I'll show you." She glanced at Kirk. "Permission, Captain?" Kirk nodded consent. Her fingers played across her board, shortly followed by music over the bridge speakers, a piano solo with a soaring melody. For several minutes the song filled the bridge while they listened without speaking.

The piece finished. Finally Sulu spoke. "Now that was beautiful!"

"Polthea was a teenager when she recorded that one," Uhura said. "It is her original work, probably her most famous piece. She is coming on board to help the linguists at Aminta translate some of the tonal pieces they have recovered. Evidently she sees music, not in just notes or as a score, but as patterns of sound waves and vibrations. It is all very interesting, and I look forward to discussing it with her."

Kirk rubbed his chin. "Maybe we can ask her to give a little show for the crew. That would be a welcome diversion, assuming she is willing. Do you want to be the concert planning committee, Uhura?"

"I suppose I could approach her about it," Uhura said.

"I'll help," McCoy said unexpectedly. "What time are they coming aboard?"

"Eleven hundred hours. ship time," Uhura replied.

Kirk looked at McCoy speculatively, a little surprised that he had volunteered for the task. His CMO could be a hard study sometimes. However, it was fitting that a senior officer greet the scientists upon arrival, and McCoy certainly qualified. "Bones, why don't you and Uhura meet our guests in the transporter room," he said. "You can escort them to their quarters and get them settled in. I'll assign a yeoman to the guest wing."

"Will do, Captain," McCoy said. He moved toward the lift. "I'll meet you at the transporter room later," he nodded to Uhura. She waved her fingers at him as the doors whooshed closed. "Deck five," he ordered, and a couple of minutes later entered sickbay. Chapel was at her desk working on her PADD. She looked up and greeted him with alacrity, her expression carefully and inquiringly cheerful. He dropped his now empty coffee cup into the recycle unit and got a glass of water, pausing at her desk.

"Good morning, Chris." He saw her shoulders relax, almost imperceptibly.

"Good morning, Doctor McCoy," she replied. "You're up early. Your shift doesn't begin for another hour." Chapel's scrutiny revealed the dark circles under his eyes were more pronounced than usual, but at least he seemed communicative and he was drinking water. She knew he never drank alcohol while on duty, but she wondered how much he had consumed lately and if he was both completely detoxed and adequately hydrated. There was no way to tell without a scan, a notion she quickly dismissed.

McCoy sighed, seeing the diagnostic study running through Chapel's mind with him as the subject. He decided to ignore it and took a seat on the edge of her desk..

"Tell me, have you ever heard of Polthea of Altaire?"

If she was surprised by his off the wall question, she hid it well. "The child musician? Yes." She waited on him to continue.

"She's coming on board today. Uhura is a fan." He shrugged. "I have to admit, I had never heard of her. "

Chapel pursed her lips. "Well, she wouldn't be a child now, of course. But she was pretty famous years ago. You would have been busy in medical school and the residency grind when she was popular. The entertainment channels still play her music, though. Classical performances don't go out of style." She paused and grinned. "Not like that stuff you listen to sometimes."

"You wound me to my core, Miss Chapel. The Beatles and Van Morrison are not 'stuff', they're classic rock." He motioned at her tablet. "I've volunteered to see our guests on board later. What's on the agenda for today?"

Chapel glanced at the schedule. "You are excising that lipoma from Tera Litchcomb's shoulder this morning. Two physicals this afternoon. You were also planning to finish the quarterly control audit today, the report is due at the end of the week."

"Joy." He slid off her desk and headed for his office, intending to finish the paperwork. Instead he found himself doing a computer search and listening to the results. He was still engrossed when his first patient arrived and he reluctantly put it aside.


Uhura was waiting outside the transporter room, eyes still sparkling, but her overt excitement level constrained. McCoy put an arm around her shoulders and she hugged him back affectionately.

"I have been listening to your child prodigy,"he told her. "It's amazing what some people can do at such a young age."

"Yes, it is. But imagine the amount of dedication it takes to make the raw talent blossom," Uhura replied.

"Dedication and or compulsion, both internal and external. There are a lot of factors at work in an exceptional brain. And children are subject to the whim and rule of adults. The life of a prodigy can be pretty difficult under the best of circumstances."

Uhura squeezed his arm. "You are making me a little sad. I guess I hadn't thought of anything but the talent."

"Just call on me whenever you need a dose of gloom and doom." McCoy said, giving another quick hug before releasing her. "Now, come on, let's go get our guests."

Chief Kyle greeted them as they entered the transporter room, already busy at the console. Materializing on the transporter pad was a polished wooden box, about a meter and a half long, and several other assorted containers. Kyle and another crewman climbed the platform and sat the items to the side. The box was obviously rather heavy for its size.

"Luggage?" McCoy asked.

"Bloody scientific equipment," Kyle said. "For whatever reason, they didn't want these things beamed at the cargo station. We're ready to bring the people aboard now."

The transporter hummed and three beings sparkled into materialization, two Andorians, both appeared to be one of the male Andorian genders, and a Vulcan woman. McCoy stepped forward to greet them but brought himself up short before saying anything. The Andorians were embroiled in a spirited discussion in their native language. Their voices were not especially loud, but there was a lot of hissing and antenna waving and gesturing, and it was obvious the discussion was being continued from planetside. Uhura looked at McCoy, her eyes widening. He shrugged slightly and stepped closer, clearing his throat loudly.

"Excuse me, Gentlebeings." The Andorians abruptly fell silent as if they had just noticed they were now aboard a vessel with an audience. "Welcome to the Enterprise." McCoy nodded slightly. "I am Chief Medical Officer Doctor Leonard McCoy, and this is Lieutenant Nyota Uhura. We are here to show you to your rooms and help you get settled in."

He motioned for them to step down from the pad. The taller Andorian inclined his head. "I am Kelan, and this is my associate Vartheb. We accept your hospitality. Have our things arrived safely?"

"Yes, indeed," McCoy said, gesturing to the neat pile of containers.

"You will see that they are delivered to my quarters,"Kelan ordered. "With extreme care," he added in Kyle's direction. "These are important scientific instruments."

"Of course," McCoy said flatly. "Our people will be very careful." He turned to the Vulcan woman. "Welcome aboard, Ma'am."

She spread her fingers in the Vulcan salute. "Thank you, Doctor McCoy, Lieutenant Uhura. I am T'Phol, and your service honors me." She stepped from the platform, with a glance at Kelan and Vartheb. She was tall and slender, like every Vulcan McCoy had ever seen and moved with careless grace. Her dark hair was loosely gathered in a pony tail and she had a violin case slung over her shoulder.

"If you will follow us, we will show you to your quarters," Uhura moved toward the door, entourage in tow. McCoy paused by Kyle's station. "Mr. Kyle, would you be so kind as to make sure these things get to Kelan's cabin? Quicker is better, I think."

"Right away, Sir," Kyle answered, his British accent more clipped than usual.

T'Phol stepped forward. "I have an item here, too, but I can take it with me." She reached for the wooden box.

"Here," McCoy protested,"Let me carry that for you." He picked it up by the handle and grunted in surprise. The thing was heavier than he expected.

She regarded him with apparent amusement. "Perhaps it would be better for me to carry this. I regularly do so."

McCoy relented, feeling his cheeks redden. "Well, so much for chivalry," he mumbled. He stepped back, and T'Phol lifted it with relative ease. "This way, then," he said. T'Phol fell into step beside him. Ahead of them, the Andorians were deep into their discussion or argument as they followed Uhura.

"It seems the Kelan and Vartheb have a lot to talk about already," McCoy said.

"Indeed," T'Phol said, her inflection very reminiscent of Spock. She lowered her voice. "If my evaluation is correct, they do not seem to be in accord. But I do not speak Andorian."

"Nor do I. I guess I shoulda brought along a universal translator. But I do like Andorian cabbage soup," McCoy said, then felt immediately foolish for the asinine quip.

T'Phol made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a chuckle, prompting a sidelong glance from McCoy. "Too spicy," she said, "and too yellow. Over the years, I have learned to eat things from many different worlds and cultures. A lot of Andorian fare is both garish and piquant, but I do like Andorian tuber."

They caught up with Uhura, who had stopped in front of the first guest quarters, typing in the access code. "If you'll step inside, I'll show you how things work. It's the same for all the rooms." They moved forward and watched while she demonstrated the food slots, intercom, computer terminal, and door passkey. "We have assigned Yeoman Cassady to assist you during your stay. Please let him know if you need anything. His number is on your intercom pinpad. You are free to move between your quarters and the common areas on this deck, including the mess hall, lounge, and arboretum. We would also be glad to give you a tour of the Enterprise during your stay. Just let Mr. Cassady know so we can arrange for a guide."

"You will also find Andorian dishes programmed into the food synthesiser," McCoy added. "Hopefully you will find things satisfactory."

Kelan inclined his head. "It is adequate," he said in Standard. "You may be excused while I await our supplies." Uhura's trim eyebrow rose and her eyes flashed a bit, but she smiled.

"Of course, Sir," she said, with dangerous sweetness. "Good day." Vartheb said nothing, but his antennae twitched. McCoy wondered if it was from nervousness or agitation or some other reason. They left Kelan, deposited Vartheb next door, and went a little further down the corridor to T'Phol's quarters. Uhura opened the door for her. "This is your room, Polthea."

T'Phol stepped inside, setting her box on the floor before turning to Uhura. "I am no longer known as Polthea. That was a corruption of my real name. I have been T'Phol Grayson since I was fifteen. "

"I am so excited to have a chance to meet and work with you, I forgot. I suppose I sound like a teenager with a crush," Uhura apologized, "but I have enjoyed your music for a long time."

"No harm," T'Phol answered. "Will you be working on the Nu Aminta project, then?" She carefully laid the violin case on the bed and glanced around the spare room.

"I hope to," Uhura replied. "I am a master linguist, my specialty is computational linguistics. Sometimes I use musical concepts in my algorithms, but I'd like to learn more."

"Have you seen Al'Kipin's thesis on the theoretical modeling of lingual corpora using Pakthalian Web frequencies?" T'Phol's eyes were alight with inquiry.

Uhura nodded quickly. "Yes, interesting work, but he is using them in the study of current Salenoid offshoot dialects. Would they be as useful when applied to endangered or archaic languages..."

"OK, OK," McCoy broke in, raising his hands in mock surrender. "You linguists are obviously speaking Greek to me. I'll run on back to Sickbay now." He nodded to T'Phol. "A pleasure, Miss Grayson. I am sure I'll see you again."

T'Phol tilted her head, eyes slightly hooded with veiled amusement. McCoy sensed her humor on display yet again. He found he liked it.

"Yes, I suspect you shall. Thank you." She and Uhura resumed their conversation which followed him down the corridor until the door slid closed.