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Rattles And Beads
By Fizzbin
The elders and hunters were still deep in discussion when the Witch Doctor arrived. Ever since the morning, they had squatted on their heels around the communal fire telling and retelling the sequence of events. For the most part they spoke softly, though occasionally, a voice would rise slightly in the fervor of dissent and sometimes in fear.
Their women, when they weren't busy keeping the children quiet and safely tucked away inside the village huts, moved silently between them, dispensing food and drink. As the sun went down and a chill began to seep out of the forest, they brought skin robes to keep their men warm. When the women left the fire to refill a ewer or check a straying youngster, they made a wide detour to avoid the little hut on the southern edge of the village circle
Outside that hut, a group of heavily armed hunters stood, or to put it more accurately, sat guard. Though they had been there for hours, they remained alert and, like the others, spoke softly and continuously among themselves. They faced, not the fire circle, but the door of the hut, for rather than meaning to keep the tribe out, they were intended to keep Something in.
Back at the fire, the tribesmen poked and prodded the facts, squeezing them to be certain no tiny but important detail would go unnoticed. They compared them to other unexplained phenomena: extraordinary events such as the time Ne'kep'ta caught the fish with the amulet in its stomach, and the little sun that had moved slowly across the sky in the year Ma'ruk'al was born. They held their data up against equally mysterious albeit more common occurrences: the tiny lights that sometimes flickered deep in the forest to lure away the foolish child, and the ghosts that moaned in the tree tops when the winter winds blew from the south. When reason failed, they invoked the thousand spirits of the ancestors to entreat them for enlightenment.
Nothing compared, no help was forthcoming, and the facts were few. That morning, a party of hunters found the covering torn away on one of their pit traps. The hole was far too small for their usual game and so they approached cautiously to peer down into the fifteen-foot depth. It was then they first saw the Demon. It was sitting in the bottom of the pit playing with a pile of shiny flat rocks and oddly-shaped beads. A pebble detached itself from the lip of the pit and tumbled down the loose soil of the wall. The Demon's head snapped up and It looked straight at them.
It was horrible, with eyes like obsidian and strange skin, black on the bottom half and blue on the top, that seemed to fit loosely over its bones. It had an ugly, oozing, green gash on Its forehead. And Its ears! Everything about It screamed, "Wrong, wrong!" It unfolded Itself from the ground and rose up, impossibly tall and gaunt. Raising Its arms, It reached for them with long thin fingers. Their senior, Ma'ret'al, brought It down with a well-aimed blow dart before It could harm them.
After some discussion, one of the hunters, Ma'lok'ta, descended a rope into the pit. He cautiously approached the unconscious Demon and tied the rope under the Its arms. His companions murmured in appreciation of his bravery; he would not be a junior for much longer. He stood back and they began to haul the Demon out of the pit.
While waiting for the rope to be lowered again, Ma'lok'ta poked at the rocks and beads with tip of his blowgun. He squatted on his heels to examine them more closely. They were like nothing he had ever seen. All were perfectly smooth and some shone with a brightness that could not be called a color. Other pieces were as black as the spaces between the stars. Ma'lok'ta reached out a tentative finger and touched one briefly. Nothing happened. The rope fell back into the pit. Ma'lok'ta made a quick decision, removed his loincloth, and scooped the odd things into it, tying it into a bundle before he ascended the rope.
Now, the Demon lay inside the little hut. It had been unconscious ever since, and the whole time the elders and hunters discussed the question: What does one do with a Demon?
Some seniors argued that It should be killed immediately, before the tranquilizer wore off and It awoke to take Its revenge. Others countered that killing was a serious action that had never been done in the memory of any now living, and it was too terrible a step to contemplate unless they were certain the Demon meant to harm them. A small number thought perhaps the Demon might be grateful they had spared Its life and help them in the future, bring them game and lead them to teeming rivers and fertile glades. Another party reasoned that, even if they did kill the Demon, It would probably come back in the way the spirits were wont to do, and take Its revenge on them anyway. It was a difficult question.
Ma'lok'ta, his loincloth recovered, sat in the circle and recounted his experiences over and over again for consideration by the elders and seniors. He showed them the amulets, as he now referred to the rocks and beads, which were spread out on a skin in the firelight. He was telling his story yet again, when the Witch Doctor stepped out of the darkness and into the circle. He bowed with outstretched palms to the Headman and introduced himself.
The startled tribesmen regarded the intruder warily. It was late in an exhausting day and they were not entirely certain his sudden appearance was not some further trick of the spirit world.
The Witch Doctor was an impressive sight. Tall, but not horribly so, he had the bright blue eyes that were rare and highly prized as a sign of good lineage. His loincloth was embroidered and beaded and he wore a magnificent cape of tiny iridescent feathers. A wide beaded band was tied around his forehead, holding upright a crown of green feathers. Strings of shells and beads ran down from the band and trailed across his shoulders. He held a long ornately carved staff to which a bundle had been tied with leather thongs. The Headman rose and approached him with great dignity.
"I am Ma'sep'eh. I welcome you to our village."
"I'm pleased to be here, Ma'sep'eh." The Witch Doctor grinned at him. "I understand you have some trouble."
"We are disturbed and would be glad of your help, but, please, how do you know of our troubles?"
"I've got very sharp ears. I was half-way to the big waters when the winds told me you had captured a Demon. I came just as fast as I could."
"The big waters? So far."
"I rode here across the skies on a dart of light." The Witch Doctor gestured up at the night sky where the occasional meteorite was not unknown.
The tribesmen whispered among themselves. "It's impossible. It's a miracle. It's another demon. It's inevitable. It's unreal."
A voice piped up, "See if he'll eat."
The elders and seniors turned to look at Ma'lok'ta. They looked at one another. The Headman waved a woman forward and whispered in her ear. The woman looked up at the Witch Doctor and bit her lip.
"This is my wife, Ne'ruh'eh. She would offer you food and drink."
Ne'ruh'eh moved forward, extending a flat basket filled with small leaf-wrapped packets of roasted meat. The Witch Doctor popped one into his mouth and chewed with relish. He smiled at the woman.
"Delicious. My compliments."
Ne'ruh'eh placed the basket on the ground and unhooked a gourd from her waistband. Pulling out its stopper, she offered it to the Witch Doctor, who took it and drank deeply. Returning the gourd, he bowed to her.
"Thank you. I was getting a little dry there."
She left the gourd next to the basket and backed away smiling shyly. The tribesmen shifted and looked at one another. Ma'sep'eh stepped forward again.
"We have Something you must see."
* * * * * * *
Inside the hut, the Demon lay insensible on a mattress of grasses, bound by a length of rope around Its chest and arms. Ma'lok'ta lifted a torch over It. The Witch Doctor knelt and untied the bundle from his staff. Taking a small rattle from the bag, he began to shake it over the prostrate Demon, moving it up and down from head to foot then back again. He studied the rattle for a moment. Then stood to face Ma'sep'eh.
"I need to see everything the Demon had on It. Was It carrying anything when you found It?"
Ma'sep'eh selected a junior from among the tribesmen crowding in the doorway and dispatched him to bring the skin full of amulets. The Witch Doctor nodded and returned to the Demon's side. He pulled a small stick from his bag and waved it, mumbling what the tribesmen took for incantations. Leaning forward, he pressed the stick into the Demon's neck. There was a hissing sound and the Demon began to stir.
It opened Its eyes and the tribesmen inside the hut drew back to huddle by their companions at the door. It tried to sit up, found Itself bound, and opened Its mouth to speak. The Witch Doctor leapt up and waved his staff over It.
"SIGMA IOTIA!" The Witch Doctor commanded.
The Demon closed Its mouth and blinked. It studied the Witch Doctor, lifted Its head to look at the cowering tribesmen, and then lay back with a groan. The Witch Doctor shook his rattle over the Demon again, muttering a string of incantations.
"Anaphylactic Shock. Mild case. Concussion. Bruised hip. You'll live."
The junior returned with the bundle of amulets. It passed hand over hand to the Witch Doctor, who glanced inside quickly then added it to his own bundle along with the rattle and stick. As he tied the bundle shut, he leaned over and whispered.
"Alright, you green-blooded hobgoblin, start yelling and try to sound terrified."
The Witch Doctor sprang to his feet waving his staff, as the Demon struggled against Its bonds, snarling.
"Pekh-razh!"
"Same to you, buster." The Witch Doctor hissed. "Try sticking to things that don't translate."
"Duotronic circuit!"
"Much better. Put some fear in it."
"Warp core breach!" The Demon howled and thrashed.
The Witch Doctor turned to face the terrified tribesmen. The Demon continued to shout.
"Neural Neutralizer! ADMIRAL NOGURA!"
"Gentlemen. As you can see, this is a Demon of truly horrific proportions. The only solution is for me to take It with me and return It to Its fiery home."
The tribesmen nodded their heads eagerly and gestured "Go, go" with their hands. The Witch Doctor slipped the loop of the bundle over his arm and leaned down to grasp the Demon by Its ropes.
"Up you go!"
He pulled the Demon to Its feet, then reversing his staff he pounded its head into the ground, shouting "JIM BEAM!"
There was a tremendous flash of light and the hut filled with an acrid, evil-colored smoke. The screaming of the tribesmen didn't quite drown out a peculiar, shimmering hum. When the smoke cleared, the hut was empty of Demon, of Witch Doctor, and of tribesmen.
* * * * * * *
Spock sat on the edge of the bio-bed while McCoy, still in full regalia, finished closing the laceration on his forehead. He was biting his lip and trying not to look the Doctor in the eye.
McCoy growled, "Stop smirking, damn you!"
Spock made a noise suspiciously like a snort and reached out to finger the feathers on McCoy's cape.
"I always knew it would come to this, Doctor."
McCoy batted his hand away. He made the final closure. He hoped it was painful.
"Listen, Mister, the next time you decide to wander away from the survey team on a restricted planet, try *not* taking a header into a bear pit."
"I was preoccupied."
"Business as usual. Then at least try not to land on both your tricorder and your communicator."
"Thank you, Doctor, I never would have thought of that."
McCoy was about to retort when the sickbay doors slid open and Kirk swept in.
"Mr Spock. Glad to see you back in one piece."
"It is my pleasure, Captain."
Kirk beamed at both of them with satisfaction before turning his gaze solely on McCoy. His eyes took on an impish gleam.
"My, Bones! Don't we look festive?"
"Oh, shut up!" McCoy ripped off the headdress and threw it down hard on the bio-bed. "And can't you get someone to bring me some clothes? I'll be damned if I'll parade through the corridors again in this rig."
"You're right, it would be bad for morale." He smiled broadly. McCoy glared. Kirk conceded and headed back out the door.
"I'll see what I can do. And, oh, Mr Spock," Kirk turned back and pointed at his First Officer. "I'll see you at 1800 to discuss survey party protocol." The door closed behind him.
It was McCoy's turn to snort. He put away his equipment and dumped out the contents of the leather bundle. Spock picked up the beaded headdress and turned it over in his hands contemplatively.
"Doctor?"
"What now, Spock?"
"Would you mind if I kept this?"
"Why? So you can torment me with it at inopportune moments?"
"No. As a memento."
"Now why would you want a memento of that place? You were unconscious most of the time." McCoy started to remove the imbedded med scanner from the head of the rattle.
Spock shook his head and spoke gently.
"You misunderstand me, Leonard. I would like a reminder of all the times you have saved my life."
After a long moment, McCoy lowered his eyes, then he nodded and took a deep breath.
"In that case, Spock, you might as well have this too." He thrust the rattle into Spock's hand. His voice softened. "I'd hate to break up a matched set."
The mood passed quickly. McCoy gruffly waved Spock off the bio- bed.
"Now get the hell out of here and go figure out how you're going to explain this to Jim." Back in the village, the tribesmen added another shrine to those honoring the thousand spirits of the ancestors. Many years later, Ma'lok'eh, the new Headman, was often asked to recount the story of the the great Witch Doctor, Ma'koh'eh, and how he vanquished the Green Demon. He liked best to tell it in the springtime when there were many darts of light in the sky.
END