McCoy laid the tablet aside for a minute, scrubbing a hand across his eyes. His head was swimming with equations, formula, and ingredients in differing proportions and combinations.
He remembered Uhura mentioning that Aminta may have been a source for drug smuggling in the past. Apparently some faction with an interest in the re-discovered Aminta had uncovered a small stash of the ancient drug during an excavation. They had made some progress in their attempt to replicate the drug. They knew the particular plant species it derived from. So far they had managed to increase the hallucinogenic properties of the substance, but they were missing some unknown component that would transmute the drug into a powerful mind control agent, at least for several iron based hemoglobin species, including Klingon, Trill, and possibly Human.
It was that unknown factor that was ringing the alarm bells in his head. It was biological and not botanical, that much was clear. The 'defkato' Vartheb was so fond of aboard the Enterprise had not been pure, but a variation of the Amintian hallucinogen coupled with a defkato base. Inhalation was evidently the preferred method of delivery. One canister lobbed into a crowd could incapacitate dozens or hundreds of people at once. He suspected the physiology in the nervous system was similar to scopolamine or pentothal.
He carefully flexed his neck and shoulders. He was tired, as well as sore and stiff. His side and shoulder hurt, and his headache was fierce. He was sure he had a concussion, maybe a skull fracture as well, he was still dizzy and nauseated. Two Orion guards stood nearby, observant but silent.
"I need to go to the bathroom," he said, more because he wanted to speak and move rather than a sense of urgency.
Neither guard replied, but one spoke into a communicator. After a few minutes, Vartheb arrived, looking a bit disheveled as if he's gotten up from bed. He glanced at the PADD, nodding. "You have questions?"
"I want to go to the bathroom."
Vartheb spoke to the guards in Orion. McCoy rose, holding to the table edge for support before he could straighten. He followed them at a slow shuffle to an opening with no door. The little alcove had a toilet and sink. The guards stood silently as he peed. He noted his urine was a little bloody. Internal Doctor added kidney trauma to the growing list of maladies. He washed his hands, splashing his face. There was no towel or dryer so he dripped as he made his slow way back to the table, carefully lowering himself into the chair.
Vartheb seated himself, rotating the tablet so he could see the page, then turned it back to face McCoy. They stared across the table for a moment, the tablet with its information silent but looming between them.
Vartheb''s antennae swiveled, all his attention focused on McCoy. "You have read far into the experiment. I would like the pleasure of your acumen."
"How long have your people been working on this? Months? Years? I've had a few hours to study results from work with unknown control and pedigree. How can I know what might have gone wrong or where?"
Vartheb studied him for a moment, his eyes hooded, antennae drooping. "I believe, Doctor, you have more insight than you are sharing. Why don't you tell me about the flying creatures."
"You have my tricorder. It contains the sum of what I know."
"I think not. I have reason to believe there is so much more. Tell me, do you communicate with them?"
"That depends on what you mean. Do you know about pets? A dog, or a cat? Or the Andorian equivalent?"
"We have no equivalent. I do understand what a pet is."
McCoy was not surprised to find Andorians did not keep pets. "Dogs and cats, they're smart animals. They learn what we want, we learn how to respond to them. We love them, even. And I believe they love us. There is definitely communication between pets and keepers."
Vartheb shook his head. "If so, it is of no consequence. These creatures are not pets, Doctor McCoy."
"Of course not. They're wild, wary, not domesticated. But they have some level of intelligence. Some level of comprehension. Like many wild animals. It's not unusual."
Vartheb blinked slowly. "You talk, but say nothing."
"Just trying to explain animal communication, since you don't understand it."
"I think you would be better advised to be truthful. We have...ways... to convince you to remember accurately."
McCoy stopped his eyes from seeking the contraption in the corner with the evil helmet. He spread his hands. "I don't know any more about them. They're winged, flying hotblooded predators. Their eyes are placed for binocular vision. They have teeth and talons, suggesting their diet is predominately meat. They have elevated levels of several minerals, particularly magnesium, in their blood. On my medical tricorder is a copy of their DNA helix, which I have not studied."
"And you can talk to them."
"No."
"You medically assisted one at the compound."
"I've treated animals from time to time. I don't like to watch any creature suffer."
"Then you met with one outside the compound."
McCoy wondered what and how Vartheb knew.
"Coincidence. I was taking a walk."
"The Enterprise team was attempting to translate their 'language'."
"I don't know anything about that. I'm a doctor. My job was to do physical examinations on the scientists stationed there. And that's what I did."
Their back and forth was interrupted by a commotion just outside the door behind them. Vartheb stood, McCoy turned around. Ludedmi opened the door, struggling with something just out of sight on the landing at the top of the stairs. Vartheb waved a hand at the guards who went to help.
Between the three, they hoisted a struggling shape wrapped in netting. McCoy's heartbeat raced as they brought their burden in, placing it on the stone floor. The bundle writhed and hissed. He could see a few shining scaly feathers poking through the net, along with a foot missing part of a hind toe.
"Uncalennie." He was startled, the voice inside his head was so clear he wondered for a second if the others heard it too.
"Lay calm if you can." He tried to aim his thought at the bundle. The struggling stopped, fading to just the motion of breathing with the accompanying hiss. McCoy stroked the feathers in his imagination. "Little Birdie."
"Liddleburdy will help Uncalennie."
McCoy swallowed hard. Vartheb moved into his peripheral vision, folding his hands in a prim gesture. He looked at McCoy and smiled. The hair prickled on McCoy's neck.
"Well," Vartheb said. "Perhaps we shall see firsthand what you know about the birds. Won't that be nice?"
McCoy suddenly felt cold. He shivered as Vartheb's sibilant laugh echoed around the room.
