“Chris, I’m sorry,” Chekov said, putting a hand on her shoulder.
She gently brushed the hand away. “I’m all right, Pavel. I just wish these people had at least shared a little of their medical data with us. I was flying blind.”
“Admiral Yilskene’s people didn’t seem overly concerned about what happened to Kasrene,” Chekov said. “Yilskene doesn’t even seem in much of a hurry to debrief Mosrene about what happened. I just don’t get it.”
“I think you explained it pretty well earlier. ‘The castes must look after their own.’ Well, they did a pretty miserable job. And so did I.”
“Doctor, Kasrene was run through with a monomolecular blade. You dounderstand that this patient was beyond saving, don’t you?”
“Certainly beyond myabilities.”
“When you consider the internal injuries a weapon like that can inflict, I don’t think a Tholian medic could have done any better.”
That’s why monoblades are illegal on most Federation worlds,Chapel thought. But then, we’re a long way from the heart of the Federation, aren’t we?
“I’m not sure I understand your point, Pavel,” she said aloud, doffing her surgical smock and tossing it into a nearby clothing ’cycler.
He sat on the end of an empty biobed and ran a hand through his gray-streaked hair, apparently gathering his [100] thoughts. Oh, please. Not another story about growing up in Novy Riga, Russia.Chapel controlled a wince.
Chekov looked around as though making sure none of the sickbay staff were close enough to overhear him, then studied her with a serious expression. “Did I ever tell you what it was like to be forced to watch while Khan cut the throats of everybody on the Regula I research station?”
Chapel nodded, though she was surprised that he would mention this. From her medical database, she knew that Chekov had suffered intense posttraumatic stress as a result of that experience, which had later sidelined him from serving as Captain Sulu’s exec for several years. She was also aware that he. generally took great pains not to discuss that particular chapter of his career, even with Excelsior’schief medical officer.
“Khan stuck these ... alien slugs into my ear, and into Captain Terrell’s,” Chekov continued, staring off into his memories. “Once those creatures had entwined themselves into our brains, we had no other choice but to follow Khan’s orders. No matter how hard we tried to resist, we couldn’t stop ourselves. At least, when Khan ordered him to kill Jim Kirk, Clark Terrell found the courage to point the phaser at himself instead.”
Watching his hands slowly turn white as they gripped the sides of the biobed, Chapel felt she had to stop him from going any further. She simply didn’t want to see her old friend trot out his pain, particularly for her benefit.
“Me, I just stood there until I couldn’t stand the pain from that damned eel anymore,” Chekov continued. “I discovered that I just wasn’t strong enough to—”
“Why are you telling me this, Pavel?” she interrupted.
“Because even though you did everything you could, Christine, sometimes that simply isn’t good enough.”
Chapel favored him with a wan smile. “Thanks, Pavel. Maybe you should consider hanging out a shingle for psych-counseling services.”
[101] “That would be too much like evaluating crew morale reports, Doctor,” he said, returning her smile before nodding toward a nearby biobed. “How’s Tuvok?”
Chapel led the way to the bed where Tuvok lay, far from the mess and clamor of the trauma team, whose members were still packing up their instruments and discreetly covering up the Tholian ambassador’s sliced-open corpse with a light blue tarp.
Chapel looked up at the readings on the biobed monitor above Tuvok’s head. “Not good. He’s suffering from some sort of neural shock. I haven’t seen a Vulcan brain exhibit trauma of this type since Spock tried to mind-meld with V’Ger.”
“Spock got better,” Chekov pointed out.
“He was also extremely lucky.” Chapel recalled, not without a little melancholy, the unrequited infatuation she had felt toward Spock when they had served together on the original Enterprise.With the benefit of many years of hindsight, she realized now that her nonrelationship with Spock probably stemmed from her feelings of loss after her separation from Dr. Roger Korby, her late fiancé; Korby had proved to be even more remote from love—to say nothing of simple humanity—than even the most stoic of Vulcans.
Still, she occasionally wondered whether Spock ever thought about her after all these years.
“So what’s Tuvok’s prognosis?” Chekov wanted to know, concern striating his forehead.
“It’s too soon to lay odds, but I do have an initial treatment idea,” Chapel said as she crossed to the companel on the wall and punched a button. “Chapel to Dr. T’Lavik.”
“T’Lavik here, Doctor,”came the Vulcan physician’s response, her voice a calm, even contralto. Though her shift had ended several hours earlier, she didn’t sound like someone who’d been roused from slumber. “What can I do for you? Vulcans, heal thyselves,Chapel thought. “Please report to [102] sickbay immediately, Doctor. I need a consultation for treating psionic trauma. The patient is Lieutenant Tuvok.”
There was a slight but noticeable delay in T’Lavik’s response. Chapel imagined that, like most Vulcans, T’Lavik would be somewhat sensitive about discussing Vulcan touch-telepathy with a non-Vulcan. “I will be there presently. T’Lavik out.”
Chapel turned from the companel and faced Chekov. “Don’t worry, Pavel. I’ve already lost one patient today. I’ll be damned if I’m going to let another one slip through my fingers.”
A huge weight had settled upon Sulu’s shoulders after Christine called to inform him of Kasrene’s death. So Mosrene’s plan succeeded, whatever the reasons behind it.
Sulu stood between Aidan Burgess and Janice Rand in the dimly lit VIP quarters that had been assigned to Tholian Ambassador Mosrene. Mosrene, now out of his cumbersome enviro-suit, sat on the floor behind the orange-tinted forcefield barrier that contained the hot, high-pressure sulfurous atmosphere he required. Outside the barrier, the air was uncomfortably warm, though breathable for class-M life.
Sulu found himself wishing that the forcefield separating him from Mosrene were attached to the entrance to the ship’s brig. The only problem with that, as Burgess had already pointed out, was that Mosrene may not have done anything wrong in the eyes of Tholian law.
Kasrene’s erstwhile assistant betrayed no emotion that Sulu could construe as either guilt or remorse; to the contrary, the Tholian’s demeanor seemed as unfathomable as ever, his face and body an enigmatic congeries of fractured-looking gold-and-ruby crystal formations. Mosrene’s limbs were folded beneath him, his tail outstretched to the rear, sphinxlike.
Sulu decided that the direct approach would be best. [103] “Mosrene, I need to know why you killed the ambassador. Can you explain yourself?”
Mosrene’s voice, mediated by the universal translator, rose in a chorus that sounded somewhat nettled. “I am Ambassador Kasrene’s lawful successor, Captain Sulu. Please address me as AmbassadorMosrene.”
Sulu closed his eyes to tamp down his frustration. He took a long, deep breath before opening them and speaking again. “There must be far more discreet methods of rising in the Tholian hierarchy, AmbassadorMosrene, than killing your superior in the middle of a diplomatic meeting. So I have to conclude that you had reasons to act that go beyond simple career enhancement.” He glanced significantly at Burgess, hoping she would pick up on his wordless message: Let me handle the interrogation. You’ve already said more than enough to these people.
Mosrene turned his head so that his white, emerald-rimmed eyespots seemed to widen very slightly. “That is so. Ambassador Kasrene was about to divulge ... sensitive information, which I deemed best contained. I owe no further explanation to anyone, save my superiors in the diplomatic caste. They will understand the necessity of my actions, just as the other members of our delegation did.”