The song McCoy sings to the creatures is, of course, Blackbird. I removed the lyrics to stay within Fanfiction's guidelines.

McCoy and Chapel finished the six physicals and had the reports recorded and filed before twelve, planet time. For a while Giotto had busied himself with a PADD while they worked, but by the time they were through he had pulled a chair by the window and was observing with quiet alertness.

"What is it, Barry?" McCoy finished drying his hands.

"The bird things are back." Giotto pointed to the wall where two of the winged creatures were sitting. "They have been there a while, perched on the wall. It feels like they're watching for something. It's kind of creepy."

McCoy had a strong notion that they were watching for him. He stepped closer to the window, looking out. Both creatures immediately hopped down from the wall. The bigger one moved toward them, its gait a clumsy looking shuffle. It came right up to the window and stood tall. McCoy couldn't say how he knew, but he thought it was the same one that had approached him before, He slowly reached out his hand and touched the window. It tilted its head, then reached out with a wing. McCoy noticed a clawed appendage at the apex, much like a bat's thumb. It touched the window with deliberate movement, resting its claw against his fingers. McCoy moved his hand slowly. The claw followed. He heard Chapel's quick gasp while Giotto stood stiffly beside him. His own heart rate accelerated as the creature looked at him, its 'hand' still meeting his on the other side of the glass. They regarded each other for a moment. McCoy had the distinct feeling he was being evaluated.

"OK, Piasa. I'm coming out there."

Giotto tensed. "I wouldn't recommend that, Doctor McCoy. We have no idea how these creatures will react."

"They see people going in and out of here every day." He took a tri-ox hypo from his medikit, dialed a dose and injected his forearm. Giotto immediately held his arm out.

"You are not going out there alone," he said quietly.

Without a word, McCoy pushed the shot against his arm. Chapel also stepped forward, but he holstered the hypo.

"Christine, two of us are enough this time. It's trying to communicate with us."

Her temper rose. "Or maybe it's wondering if you taste like chicken. You're not indestructible, Doctor. This is a foolish risk."

"I don't think it's foolish." He removed a scanner, then handed his medikit to Chapel. "Watch from inside and use it if you have to. I'm getting my coat. There is an exit at the end of our hall. I'd just as soon not draw attention from the staff."

McCoy and Giotto both put on coats, and McCoy slung a tricorder around his neck.

"Set your phaser on stun," McCoy said. "Don't take it out unless we're attacked. I don't want them to feel threatened."

They slipped quietly out the two sets of doors, leaving an unhappy Chapel to watch from inside.


Outside it was cold, but not frigid. Air stirred against their faces, enough to nip. It was quiet except for the low rustling sound of the leathery succulent leaves in the slight breeze. McCoy could feel his heart begin to pump harder as the tri-ox took effect, and his ears popped as the pressure began to equalize. He turned to Giotto.

"The clinic would be on the other side. I'm going to walk around there."

Giotto's eyes widened. "Not necessary, Doc. Look."

McCoy turned to see the two flyers landing about a hundred feet away, between the wall and where he was standing. They folded their wings and sat, silent and watching.

"Stay here," McCoy said quietly. "I'm going to meet them."

He walked slowly and steadily forward about half the distance to them and stopped, holding his empty hands out. Both creatures took a few shuffling steps toward him. McCoy's attention was immediately drawn to the smaller of the two. It was obviously favoring one side, its movement hitching and painful to watch. He slowly reached into his coat pocket for the medical scanner. He held it for a minute on his open palm, then turned on the tricorder. When the beep and whirr caused no reaction, he moved a few steps closer and began talking to them in a low voice, his words a sing-song litany. Both tilted heads as he approached. He was less than ten paces away when he stopped again, his voice faltering. He could smell them, a dry, acrid odor that stung his eyes and throat. He recollected with certain clarity that same smell from his night terror. He fought to subdue his sudden panic.

The smaller creature shrunk back and hissed, but the other took a step closer, then another, until it was standing close enough to touch. McCoy reached his empty hand out, marveling that it was steady, watching as its pupil constricted almost to a pinpoint. The beak opened enough to see the first row of teeth. McCoy's pulse raced faster, pounding in his ears. An old Beatles song popped into his head. Almost in desperation, he began to sing softly.

Its pupil flared wide as it stretched to its full height while behind it the other spread its wings.

Giotto drew his phaser and took a step toward them as McCoy began the second verse.

The dark face came closer to him, then it turned its head slightly. The mesmerizing gold and red eye seemed to glow softly. "Nice Piasa," McCoy whispered, putting all his mental effort into projecting his benign intention.

Behind him Giotto aimed, ready to stun both of them.

They stood beak to nose for what seemed like an eternity to those watching. McCoy reached a little closer and touched the sleek, shining scales on its neck. Then the creature began to trill very softly. He could feel the vibration through his fingers. He realized it was humming the Blackbird song back to him, but using a different scale. Its voice sounded like it was being filtered through drones and woodwinds in multiple layers. It finished singing and relaxed, moving its face away from McCoy's and settling back.

Giotto lowered his phaser and released the breath he had been holding. Inside, Chapel relaxed her death grip on the medikit.

McCoy and Piasa studied each other for a minute. The smaller one limped closer and sat, one leg extended at an awkward angle.

He held the scanner out for their inspection.

"Little Birdie is hurt," he said in a soft singing voice. "Can I examine your foot? This doesn't hurt, see?" He activated the scanner and turned it on himself.. When there was no movement, he turned it toward the smaller one, crouching closer on one knee, talking in little nonsensical rhymes as he worked. He heard it warble and the other answer. It held very still as he ran the scanner over it and consulted the tricorder.

He sat back and visually studied the injury. Its foot had four toes, two forward and two back, each ending in a long, curved, and very lethal looking talon. The foot was bigger than both of his hands together. The leg was barely bent at an angle above the toes, but the skin was unbroken. In a human he'd say it was a greenstick fracture. On one toe, the talon was torn and laying to the side. The wound appeared fresh and was slowly oozing dark blood. Little Birdie was softly panting, a universal sign of being in pain.

McCoy chewed at the inside of his mouth as he thought and studied the tricorder readout. The creatures had iron based hemoglobin, but with a high concentration of magnesium and several unfamiliar properties. The chemistry panel was almost indecipherable without hours of study and a run through the bio-computer. He knew he wouldn't risk anesthesia, even assuming they would allow him to treat the leg at all. It would be a simple procedure to reduce the fracture and amputate the talon. He turned and set the tricorder on the ground. Making eye contact, he reached slowly for the foot.

"I have to look at this so we can fix it. Will you let me see? Make Little Birdie all better? I have to touch you. Can Uncle Lennie handle your foot?" He hadn't talked baby talk in a long time, but he hoped his tone was soothing and calming. Piasa made a chiming sound, very low and deep. To McCoy's astonishment, Little Birdie adjusted position and extended the foot toward him.

"Thank you, that's a good boy. Let's have a look. Here we go..." McCoy gently touched a good toe, running a finger down the talon and back, then continued up the leg. He could hear a soft tremolo,somewhat higher in pitch and not as resonant as the bigger version, and independent of the panting. He examined the tarsometatarsus, passing over the break, but grasping more firmly above that area at the tibio-tarsal articulation. It was covered with hard, flat silver-grey scales. The scaly covering from the ankle area to the knee was softer, with a texture like thick feathers. The scales were rounded and layered so they overlapped. Under the scales, the muscles were well defined and the skin was very warm.

He worked his way back down, touching the bent area carefully. The trilling halted as Little Birdie tilted his head and he could feel the eye on him. He looked up. "I know this is a hurt place. I won't do anything yet, but we have to set it to make it better. Next I'm gonna look at your toe, OK? Wanna play little piggy?"

The soft trill began again, slower and with a different pitch. McCoy took that as a signal allowing him to proceed. He gently grasped the injured toe above the torn talon, manipulating the joint and inspecting the injury. He discovered the distal metatarsus was also torn. He inspected the remaining tissue still connecting them with the rest of the toe. He released the foot and looked at both of them.

"I can fix this. I can set the leg just like new, but the talon has to go. I have to get some things. Will you wait?"

He got to his feet, his knee a little stiff from kneeling on the cold ground. Both sets of eyes were on him as he backed away a few steps. When they didn't move, he turned and walked back to the overhang where Giotto waited. The security man looked at him with an incredulous expression.

"I need some supplies. The smaller one is hurt."

"And you're going to treat it, of course." Giotto sounded resigned. He had been the head of the security team on Janus VI when McCoy had healed the Horta. He remembered the feeling of awe and disbelief that the doctor had approached treating the silicon creature almost casually, seemingly unmindful that he could be reduced to smoking cinders in a few seconds. At first he thought McCoy had a death wish or was simply foolhardy. Almost four years later, he knew better. The man was a healer.

McCoy could see Chapel waiting behind the second door, He stepped into the chamber behind the outside door and waited for the pressure to equalize. He opened the door and reached for his medikit.

"I need a cauterizing laser scalpel," he said. And some of that plexi-stabilizer we use for field casting. Both are in my big kit in my room."

Chapel recognized the urgency in his voice and rushed to get them. Just as she returned with the items, T'Phol, Uhura and Cassady came down the hall. They hurried the rest of the way.

"What is happening here?" Uhura asked. "Has there been an accident?"

"No," McCoy said. "We're all fine. I'm treating a patient outside." He added the scalpel and casting set to his kit, turning to the door.

Uhura looked out. "Are those your patients?"

"Just the smaller one. I'm going out again. No one else is to come outside."

T'Phol moved forward. "No, not alone. I will accompany you."

McCoy's eyes flashed. "Everyone will stay here," he repeated sharply. "That's an order." He looked pointedly at Uhura, who nodded slightly. He slipped through the door and was out. T'Phol took a step to follow, but Uhura moved in front of the door and laid a hand on her arm.

"He knows what he's doing. You have to stay with us, as he ordered."

T'Phol reluctantly backed away to the window as they all took posts and watched.


The light was noticeably dimmer as he crossed the yard once again. He walked with slow even steps all the way to them and knelt on the ground. They were both quiet as he opened his medikit and took out the scalpel.

"See?" He held the device on his palm, then laid it aside. He hummed a little Blackbird as he removed the casting kit and mixed the components, installing them in the spray delivery canister. Their heads tilted and pupils fluctuated as they observed his movements, occasionally he heard an answering hum, but they were mostly quiet. He opened a packet of broad spectrum anti-biotic and cleanser.

McCoy had already decided to treat the talon first. It was an open wound and almost certainly causing the most pain. He could amputate it cleanly and quickly, while the leg would have to be manipulated into a straight position. He had no idea how it would tolerate that much handling, especially if he was also causing pain. In the back of his mind was the thought that if things didn't go well, the creature could adjust to a crooked leg, but at least the talon would be fixed. He knew he could do the amputation with one swipe of the scalpel. He also knew it would hurt.

He glanced at Giotto, who nodded back. His phaser was already in his hand at his side. He thought how useless that probably would turn out to be if it should go badly. Although the creatures seemed ponderous on the ground, he had no doubt they had lighting fast reflexes. They could probably gut him before Giotto could get his phaser raised to fire.

He looked at the bigger one. "You've been in my brain already, haven't you? Tell your friend here I don't mean to hurt him. I don't think y'all will hurt me. I hope I'm right." He touched the soft scales on its chest and heard the soothing deep bell sound,like Piasa enjoyed his touch. He turned his attention to Little Birdie, who extended the injured foot to him like he was any patient during any examination. He grasped the foot in his left hand, turning it for the best angle and catching the other toes out of the way. His hand was almost not big enough. He braced his forearm against his knee, feeling the sharp edges of the talons against his fingers. Total silence from both. He squeezed the cleanser over the toe. If anything they were both quieter and even more still, like carved gargoyles. He took a deep breath and picked up the scalpel, flicking it on. The green light glowed ready. His concentration narrowed to the scalpel in his hand and the tissue he was going to cut. He envisioned the perfect slice and enabled the blade.

One swift movement and it was done. The tip with the attached talon fell to the ground. Little Birdie uttered a high pitched hissing squeal but never moved or even flinched. McCoy slowly opened his fingers and released his grip on the foot. There was no blood,only a dark place where the scalpel had cut and cauterized. Both of them looked at the new toe, minus the talon. Piasa took his foot and shoved the amputated portion away in an expression that McCoy believed was disgust. He turned the scalpel off and returned it to its case.

"That's the way it's done, my scaly birdie buddies. I feel stupid talking to you like babies, yes Uncle Lennie does, but we've done good so far. Yes we have."

Little Birdie hummed and touched McCoy's chest with his beak. He stroked the thin neck, feeling the vibration deep inside.

"OK, now we have to see about your leg before it gets dark. Are you ready for more? Lemme see." He ran his hand over the leg again, wondering how much pressure he would have to exert to straighten it, and how tolerant Little Birdie would be. He wasn't too worried. After cutting off the toe segment, there was no doubt remaining in his mind that the creatures were both highly intelligent and knew he was helping them. How they factored into his night terror was a question he was not prepared to entertain.

"Are you ready? Here goes." He gripped the leg above and below the fracture and applied pressure. Fortunately the reduction did not require much effort and he had it aligned with two light pushes. Little Birdie hissed both times, but once again held absolutely still. Piasa warbled and hummed throughout, encouragement, he thought. When the leg was straight, he sprayed the plexi-cast material on the leg, covering to the joints above and below the break. The special polymer would degrade over the course of a few weeks and fall away on its own.

He finished and gave a final pat to the ankle just above the cast, running his fingers lightly across the scales. "You've been a good patient, Little Birdie. Thank you for not killing me tonight. You, too," he said to the other. They both trilled and chimed, gentle low tones that spoke to him of gratitude and relief. He stood. They backed away from him, and with a final hum launched into flight. He felt the wind from their wings and smelled their peculiar scent that no longer seemed so disagreeable. He watched them until they were out of sight before he laughed, almost giddy with elation and relief. He found the talon, scooping it into a specimen container, picked up the tricorder and packed away his kit. His hands did not shake because, dammit, he was a doctor.