The Doctor sighed deeply, put his hand down on the polished wood of the floor, then winced when a sharp pain in his shoulder reminded him it was damaged and he shouldn't lean on that arm. He felt a bit odd about that damage. He didn't appreciate the spear wound itself, but he'd understood just enough of subsequent converse between the natives to decide he wasn't dead because his blood was red and he might not be something evil.

 He'd spent five days attempting to convince them of it, but wasn't making a great deal of progress, though throwing out the meat they'd begun supplying the second day, when his conical green cage was next opened, seemed to be accomplishing something. They were no longer dropping half cooked carcasses on him. He'd begun to get some interesting fruits to go with the water that collected in the basin shaped area in one corner of the floor every time it rained, which was often.

 He'd originally thought lack of sanitary facilities might mean his stay in the enclosure would be relatively brief. The first downpour had disabused him of that notion. The amount of water that flowed across the floor would wash anything soluble away in a few minutes.

 He stood and made another circuit of the small enclosure suspended from a tree branch. He'd examined all the bindings holding the floor, which was obviously a cross section of a single very large log, to the tightly laced green branches forming the walls. It was a very interesting construction, but even a detailed examination of it hadn't reduced his disappointment he could neither break nor untie any of the vines that secured it. The bindings at the apex of the conical structure, which was the only opening, were quite above his reach. Since it opened rather like the top of a pouch being spread and the braided vines with which the enclosure was suspended were attached to the sides, or went under the floor, there was nothing to leap for when it did.

 He hadn't been able to see how it was opened either. Standing directly in the center of the opening, in an attempt to ascertain the method, had resulted in one of the items dropped by the natives from the branch of the tree hitting him on the head. He'd actually been grateful for the downpour that had provided enough water to rinse most of the grease out of his hair.

 He sighed again and wished for his coat again, primarily for the multitude of handy things in the pockets, but also because he was a bit chilly and rather fond of it. When the enclosure began to sway with his pacing, he sat down. It was becoming a far too routine sequence, first sigh to sit down.

 Five days and he'd learned almost nothing. His shoulder was healing and his curiosity and frustration becoming less tolerable as it became less a distraction. There wasn't a great deal of opportunity to learn a language with a visual component if one couldn't see anyone speaking!

 The Doctor scrambled for the widest gap between the branches when there was a sudden commotion below. He saw a large group aproaching from the direction of the village, but he couldn't see what they were carrying. He struggled to understand any of what he was hearing/seeing them say. He sat back on his heels when they passed out of his narrow view and continued to listen intently.

 He was rather pleased he understood enough that he wasn't surprised when the top of the cone opened and was to prepared to break the fall of the person who was dropped in. He nearly yelped at the complaint his shoulder made that it was *still* damaged, but did manage to get the large young male lowered to the floor gently. However, he was astounded when he turned him over to examine him for injury.

 "A human! Something doesn't make sense about this."

 The Doctor examined the big, muscular, red head and could find no other injuries but the large lump on the back of his head, but he did find one very useful item. The natives hadn't done quite as thorough a job of emptying the young man's 'pockets' as they had his. He was peeling a tasty greenish-yellow fruit with the little folding knife when the young man opened his eyes.

 "Lie still! You took quite a crack on the head. Probably a rock from a sling. I've seen some native children practicing with them. A slice of fruit? Oh, I borrowed your pen knife. Hope you don't mind."

 "Uh... no, but please be careful with it. It's very old. My grandmother gave it to me. It was her grandfather's. It's my good luck charm." "Aptly designated and well-maintained. It's exactly what we need to get out of this extremely boring abode. Then we need to get my coat and all the "lucky charms" I carry in the pockets."

 "Look, who are you and... how did you get here?"

 "I'm the Doctor and you, specifically the field your ship generated, brought me here. It didn't do quite what your physicists predicted."

 "We knew it was an experiment, but it worked. Brought you how?"

 The Doctor smiled. The young man was going to be an interesting companion for awhile. He didn't see the smile. He had his back to him. He'd wobbled a bit getting to his knees, but he was now carefully examining the way their cage was constructed. Not battering at it, pushing a bit here, tugging a bit there, very much as he'd done to determine the strength and flexibility of the branches and the vines that bound them.

 "You're right. We're going to need a knife. Glad I dropped that in my boot sheath just before I left the ship." "I noticed the sheath was rather large for the knife in it."

 "I discovered there was just enough room under the standard issue boot knife for it when I took my field test for exploration service. Exploration Special Service Lieutenant Commander Carrington Aster. You look human, but I'm damned sure you aren't."

 "You're quite right, though I spent quite a few of your years on Earth and a great many more in the company of humans. I'm interested in how you reached that conclusion."

 "I'm just shy of two meters and weigh over 130 kilos. The mud smears on your shirt match the ones on my ass. I was dumped in and you caught me. I can see how bad the wound in your shoulder was by the size of the slice in your shirt and the boodstain around it. Looks like you took a spear. The hole under the one in your shirt looks like it happened at least fifteen days ago, not five."

 "Caught *is* somewhat overstating it, Commander."

 "Call me Carr. The Exploration Service isn't a military organization. You?"

 "Doctor."

 "So am I, but I still use my name."

 "What type of doctor?

 "Northwest Continental University Botanical Research Fellow."

 "I'll use your name. Carrington."

 "Carr."

 "Would you rather I called you Commander?"

 The Doctor raised an eyebrow and the big young man smiled and shook his head, then started asking questions. The Doctor told him what little he'd learned and was a bit surprised at his complete understanding of how frustrated he was that it wasn't more. Then it was his turn to ask questions and that didn't go quite as well.

 "CLASSIFIED?!"

 "Doctor! Calm down! Or at least quiet down! It's classified."

 "When did your ship, the Galaxion, leave Earth, Carrington?"

 "The exact time of travel is classified, Doctor."

 "Just the year will do."

 "The year?"

 "That *is* what I said."

 "Doctor, it's an odd question."

 "Carrington, please, just answer it."

 "2111."

 "I was afraid of that."

 "What do you mean?"

 "You're in a first contact situation."

 "That was expected. The object is to keep from doing something stupid. Considering the encounters with the natives so far, the probability of that doesn't seem particularly high. Personally, I think we should do our best to get out of here witout any more."

 "Carrington, you surprise me."

 "Carr. The only one who calls me Carrington is my doctor. She calls me Dimples if I correct her."

 "Since I don't see any, I'll make an assumption of their location."

 "So does everyone else. That's why I don't correct her. Carr."

 "Would you prefer Dimples to Commander?"

 "I'm still dizzy or I'd have known better than to mention that."

 "Carrington, you're right about the probability of botching a first contact. Most species do, even mine."

 "Botched how?"

 "Do you believe in demons?"

 "No."

 "These people do. That's one of the few words I'm sure I have right. That's what they think we are. How about gods? Would you prefer to be one of those?"

 "That's botched."

 "Precisely. Now, we need to get out of here and find my coat and everything that belongs in the pockets."

 "I had a pack, Doctor, with a lot of equipment in it."

 "Guns?"

 "No. I don't like them."

 "You *do* surprise me. I'm not really accustomed to having someone agree with me on the subject, or most subjects."

 "Back to another one we agree on. We've got about four hours to get my pack, your coat and warn Sergeant Chernev not to go back to the lander. Her squad is guarding a geologist doing sampling in an area of caves west of it. I was collecting plant specimens within twenty meters of it."

 "Under the circumstances warning the sergeant would seem to be of primary importance."

 "I've got a communicator in my pack."

 "Thank you. I needed a reasonable excuse to hunt for my coat in a busy village in the daylight. This vine spans the greatest distance between places it's too tightly pinched to pull free."

 "Here to... "

 "Here."

 "About four meters. Well, I tie a good knot, but hand me my knife. Let's see if I can whittle us a bit more length to start. I didn't have much time to investigate, but I noticed this was easier to cut if one sliced at a very sharp angle. The floor is extremely interesting. Did you discover how they cut and polished it?"

 "No idea on the cutting, but it was polished with fine sand. I have a suspicion this enclosure is of religious significance in some way."

 "I'm whittling on a shrine?"

 "No, but possibly a chamber of meditation or healing. One of the few phrases I've seen enough to be rather sure of is "from under the ground demon." We may be in here, suspended as we are, to reduce our power by breaking our contact with the ground."

 "Fastnacht might be able to learn the language."

 "A linguist?"

 "A mathematician. He speaks several languages, but the reason I think he might is his hobby is dance. I've seen him practice a movement of two fingers until the computer said he had done it exactly as the performer did, then found out it was the only movement he hadn't been able to get exactly right in a twelve minute performance. After he did the whole thing exactly as the performer did, he changed it to fit his body and skill."

 "He might be able to learn it."

 "Six meters. You seem sure you can."

 "Well, not quite in that fashion. It's a mental ability inherent in my species. This isn't the first time I haven't immediately understood people and been able to communicate, but it's been the most frustrating!"

 "Is that why your shoulder isn't completely healed?"

 "I beg your pardon?"

 "If you have the mental ability to communicate with most species immediately, it seems logical you'd have the ability to heal yourself."

 "Well, not completely, but I have found it a bit difficult to concentrate on helping it along."

 "Probably takes some type of meditation. I'd have been too irritated and too worried I'd miss something too, at least once I got it past the point it was a distraction."

 The Doctor rubbed his ear and smiled a bit wryly. Carrington grinned widely and told him he wished he could do something about reducing the distraction of his pounding head. The Doctor told him to lie face down. He wished aloud for the kit in his coat pocket and applied pressure at specific points with his fingertips. As he did he noticed the young man was even more well muscled than he'd realized.

 "Better?"

 "Much. Thank you."

 "You're welcome. How did you get that much muscle?"

 "It was my second qualification for a spot on the Galaxion."

 "Muscle?"

 "Physical trainer."

 "I'm *not* a member of the crew."

 "If we get out of here fast, I'll remember that."

 "Your knife."

 They slowly worked vine loose, but they had to cut it several times. One strand long enough to reach the branch above them woudn't be enough. The vine was strong, but not strong enough to hold either of them. They hoped two twisted together would be. They had enough to loop over the branch when it began to rain. The Doctor nearly had to shout to be heard over the sound of it hitting the cone shaped structure.

 "We need to do this now!"

 "They'll be in shelters waiting it out?!"

 "It's the sensible thing to do!"

 "Get on my shoulders, Doctor! See if you can figure out how to get it open!"

 The Doctor didn't waste time on figuring out the mechanism. He just started cutting vine. Carrington was quite tall and amazingly steady, but he was still working almost at arms' length with water running into his face. He reached to the side to steady himself when a piece of wet vine slapped across his cheek and felt it give.

 "Carrington! Can you pass me the vine and steady me while I stand?!"

 "Vine! Hurry!"

 The Doctor realized the strong young man was reaching his limit. It was now, or he'd need rest before they could make another attempt. The downpour wouldn't last long enough for that. He carefully balanced his weight on his hands while he raised one foot, then the other, to Carrington's shoulders. His shoulder didn't like it at all, but he ignored it. When Carrington had both his ankles in a firm grip, he slowly, steadily, pushed his body erect.

 He faintly heard Carrington whoop when he pushed through the apex of the enclosure, like some creature squirming out of a green coccoon. He decided to replace creature with butterfly in the mental image and was much more pleased with it. He was not pleased with the branch that gouged the wound in his shoulder immediately following the thought.

 The Doctor finally got his shoulders and arms free and threw the braided vine over the branch. He caught the other end on its first swing toward him, quickly looped it around the one he was holding and tied it. He pulled until the loop was snug against the tree branch, feeding the length down into the enclosure below him.

 Slowly, carefully, he lifted his weight from Carrington. As soon as he was relatively sure the vine would hold him, he scrambled up to the branch. It wasn't a simple task to get from the vine to the slippery branch and his shoulder was beginning to complain loudly. He knew it had only taken a few seconds, but subjective time seldom agreed with reality and he felt like it had been a long struggle when he finally got his body onto the wide branch.

 Carrington saw the Doctor get onto the branch, gusted amazement at the skill and agility with which he did it and his obvious strength, then realized he'd been holding his breath. He wiped water out of his eyes with a wet sleeve, grabbed the rope, said a small prayer it would hold him and climbed. He cursed his wide shoulders when he began to struggle to get through the hole at the top, then looked up in amazement as he was pulled free from above.

 He began climbing again, but carefully and slowly. When the rope began to drop in small increments, he just held on until it stopped, then he went up it fast. He grabbed the doctor's hand and grinned widely when he pulled him up onto the branch.

 "Doctor, you're amazing!"

 "Of course! Get the vine! Your arms are longer and mine are tired!"

 "You're bleeding!"

 "A particularly stubborn branch didn't think I should leave!"

 "Got it! Let's go!"

 Carved steps down the side of the tree seemed ridiculously easy after the effort to get out of the conical cage, but they were both grateful for them. The Doctor looked back and noticed Carrington was smiling widely. He indicated why with a quick point of his thumb. The Doctor glanced at the enclosure and returned the smile. The spread of branches at the top had disappeared and it was once again a perfect cone. It would be quite some time before anyone realized they were gone. He pulled his foot from mud and mentally amended "If they don't see our tracks."

 The Doctor turned to get farther off the trail from the village to the river and realized Carrington was no longer right behind him. He looked back, smiled and waited for him. He was using a stick and a handful of mud to blur the shape of his footprint. A few moments later, they were looking into the village from the jungle on the opposite side of it from the place they'd been caged.

 The sky was clearing, but the rain had lasted long enough. Now they hoped everyone would leave their shelters from it. The Doctor pointed and led Carrington farther around the village. The person, who had yelled at the others to stop when he saw the color of his blood, had come out of a structure somewhat larger than the others. That seemed to be the best place to begin looking for his coat and Carrington's pack. Of course, it was also sturdier looking than most and almost right in the middle of the village.

 To Be Continued