The Horta is badly wounded. It may die.
It won't die. By golly, Jim, I'm beginning to think I can cure a rainy day.
Can you help it?
Helped it? I cured it.
How?
Well, I had the ship beam down 100 pounds of that thermal concrete. You know, the kind we use to build emergency shelters out of 'em. It's mostly silicone. So I just troweled it into the wound, and it'll act like a bandage until it heals. Take a look. It's as good as new.
Well, Mr. Spock, I'm gonna have to ask you to get in touch with the Horta again. Tell her our proposition: She and her children can do all the tunneling they want, our people will remove the minerals, and each side will leave the other alone. You think she'll go for it?
It seems logical, Captain. The Horta has a very logical mind - and after close association with humans, I find that curiously refreshing.
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