Wow, Jim Kirk thought with a small part of his brain. The Athoralians have some pretty sophisticated taxidermy techniques. Another small portion of his brain was going through the hello-we-come-in-peace-do-you-want-to-trade-for-your-dilithium? routine.

The rest, however, was screaming GET IT AWAY FROM ME HOLY SHIT WHAT THE FUCK at the spider-lion-crocodile thing on the wall.

"Ah," he said to the ambassador's aide after the initial ceremony was over. "Can I ask what that, ah, creature is?"

The aide sighed. "Poor Fluffy. She only died a year ago. She was the ambassador's favorite, you see."

"Favorite . . . ?" Jim trailed off, not sure how to finish that sentence. He gave Fluffy a sideline glance and barely repressed the shudder. It looked as if at least seven of its eyes were following him.

"Favorite hunting companion," the aide said, with a nod. "It's very likely he'll ask you to accompany him on the hunt in a couple days."

If that's what they use as dogs, Jim thought, what the hell are they hunting?

Where were Bones and Spock? He was going to need a lot more alcohol and someone with a good poker face to get out of that invitation.