“The Skunkworks?” Ogawa said, unable to keep the laugh out of her voice as she repeated the odd word.
“A nickname among us engineers for Utopia Planitia. Apparently it’s an homage to an organization with a similar function from Earth’s history.” Ra-Havreii’s elaborate eyebrows drew together. “I’m surprised you’re unfamiliar with the term.”
Ogawa smiled and shrugged. “I don’t think there’s any Terran who knows every obscure detail of our history. Surely not every Efrosian knows his own that well.”
That seemed to take the commander aback. “Forgive me, Lieutenant. I’m afraid I have a bad habit of imposing my own cultural norms on my associates. I meant no offense.”
“None taken,” Ogawa assured him. “But does that mean Efrosians generally do having a working knowledge of those kinds of details?”
“It’s culturally mandated,” Ra-Havreii revealed. “You may be aware that my world is in the final stages of a prolonged ice age. My people evolved in the forests of the temperate band straddling Efros Delta’s equator. Because of the difficult conditions there, our road to technological advancement was longer than it was for many other humanoid civilizations. As a result, we developed a highly structured and fiercely observed oral tradition to pass information from one generation to the next. Such practices are still observed, even though there is no longer a practical need for it.”
Ogawa was intrigued. “If you don’t mind my saying so, Doctor, it sounds like a very problematic and imprecise way to convey and preserve information.”
“You’d be surprised,” Ra-Havreii said with a soft laugh. “Abstract knowledge, after all, may be stored and communicated in any number of ways. Meaningis a different matter altogether. Our oral tradition has allowed us to preserve not only very ancient knowledge, but, where relevant, its emotional context. We’ve found that to be a powerful advantage when it comes to learning and, more importantly, to understanding.
“You must understand also that the idea of a written language had not yet occurred to my kind when all this was taking hold. Our oral tradition evolved out of necessity, not by choice. To this day, our method of data storage is aural, not optical. Our libraries have more in common with symphonic archives than they do with, say, this ship’s databases. Rather than utilizing visual symbolism, we’ve created tonal vocabularies for history, science, philosophy, even mathematics. Similarly, our spoken language includes a range of vocalizations, imperceptible to most other species, that may contain many layers of subtext.”
“Music,” Ogawa realized. “Your entire culture is music-based. I’ve heard of such things, but the species that evolve along those lines are always aquatic. Never those that evolve on land. That’s fascinating.”
Ra-Havreii seemed delighted by her amazement. “We’ve come to understand that we’re unusual in this regard,” he admitted, “but it has served my kind well.”
Ogawa wanted to ask more—she craved to, in fact—but at that moment the main sickbay door hissed open, drawing her attention toward the sound. She smiled as Commander Troi entered.
Then Ogawa’s eyes widened as she focused on the large, sharp-toothed reptiloid who accompanied Titan’s diplomatic officer.
She quickly recovered herself. “Dr. Ree, I presume?” Ogawa said, smiling broadly.
Ree righted his head, blinked his opaque inner set of eyelids, then the transparent outer ones. His wide mouth pulled back in an approximation of either a grin, or a look of predatory hunger. “Unless you have another Pahkwathahn on your medical staff, that must be me.” His clawed feet barely clicked against the floor as he stepped forward and extended one arm toward Ogawa. “You must be my indispensable chief nurse, Lieutenant Ogawa.”
She grasped his hand and shook it, struck at once by the smoothness of his scaly skin and the gentleness of his touch. “At your service, Doctor. A pleasure to meet you. I look forward to our working together.”
“As do I, Nurse.” Ree’s head suddenly swerved to face Ra-Havreii, who flinched slightly at the motion. “And who have we here?”
“Doctor Shenti Yisec Eres Ree,” Troi said, “may I present Doctor Xin Ra-Havreii of Utopia Planitia.”
“Ah, one of Starfleet’s shipwrights,” Ree said, then peered at Ra-Havreii more closely. “You seem a bit waxen for one of your species, Commander. What seems to be the matter?”
“Nothing serious,” Ra-Havreii said. “Just an upset stomach.”
“Chronic?”
The engineer looked surprised. “As a matter of fact, yes.”
“Let me guess: replicated levithinuts.”
Ra-Havreii shrugged, embarrassed. “I’ve been waiting on a shipment of the real thing from Efros, but I don’t expect it to arrive before Titanleaves the Sol System.”
“You’ll be with us awhile, then?”
Ra-Havreii glanced briefly at Troi, who nodded ever so slightly. “That was my intention, at least until Titanstops over at Starbase 185.”
“A ten-day voyage, assuming there are no complications, not to commence for another two weeks,” Ree said. “That’s an unacceptable amount of time to go without health-sustaining nutrients that are obtainable only from foodstuffs native to your homeworld, Commander.”
“I’ve managed through similar periods in the past,” Ra-Havreii said. “The most difficult part is the nausea, but Nurse Ogawa has been very helpful in that regard.”
Ogawa took that as her cue to tell Ree, “I’ve administered two cc’s of peratheline, Doctor.”
“An efficacious choice,” Ree said. “But while peratheline will alleviate the symptoms, it will not address the underlying problem.” Ree picked up a nearby padd and deftly tapped it with the tips of his blunted claws.
“I appreciate your concern, Doctor, but really, I can tough it out,” Ra-Havreii said. “Besides, the replicated nuts—”
“Are unfit for Efrosian consumption,” Ree finished. “Not that the dieticians who program Starfleet replicators don’t try hard, but there are certain complex organic molecules the technology still has trouble with, the unique essential oils in levithinuts being a prime example.” Ree finished tapping the padd and handed the device to Ra-Havreii. “This should take care of the problem.”
The commander looked at the padd. “I don’t understand. Who is Chief Moreno?”
“One of the engineers aboard the Seyetik.We got to know each other quite well during the voyage from Deep Space 7. Quite an amiable fellow, and if I may say, an absolute fiend for Efrosian levithinuts. He boasted having four containers in one of the ship’s cargo bays. Since the Seyetikhas put in to Utopia for upgrades that should extend well beyond Titan’s departure, I expect Chief Moreno may be amenable to cutting a deal whereby he takes possession of your expected shipment in exchange for a good portion of his present supply.”
Impressed, Ogawa exchanged a look with Troi, who winked at her. Ra-Havreii seemed speechless. “Doctor Ree…I don’t know what to say. Thank you.”
“You’re quite welcome, Commander. Now, off you go.”
Ra-Havreii thanked Ogawa one more time, then left sickbay with Troi to pursue whatever was next on each of their no doubt busy itineraries, leaving the main sickbay area empty except for Ogawa and her newly arrived superior officer.
“Now then, Nurse, do you happen to know whether my medical supplies have been brought aboard?” Ree asked in his raspy, sibilant voice.
Ogawa nodded. “The quartermaster received your materials late yesterday. I’ve already arranged to have most of them transferred to sickbay, and they should be here by day’s end. As you requested, a portion of the arboretum has been set aside for your pharmacological plants, but I strongly recommend you supervise any retrofitting yourself.”