Matthew Pook is out of control; he not only began work on
"When None Prevail" mere days after our successful collaboration,
"Shades of Green," left the spotlight, he was already thinking ahead
to the debut of his own site, tentatively entitled Star Trek: Way Station. I think I've created a monster; so
much the better for all of us.
Jane McDonald, the focus of our new tale, is becoming fairly
well-traveled; she started her literary life aboard the USS Argus on
Alex Thompson's site, then moved here. Don't be surprised if her wanderings
aren't quite over.
"When None Prevail"
By Matthew Pook
and Joseph Manno
"Bridge to Dr.
McDonald; please report to the observation lounge."
Jane McDonald sighed and put down the PADD she'd been reading. It
had been long day, spent mostly in the stultifying task of reviewing the ship's
medical inventory; the last thing she wanted to do was sit in on a briefing.
Duty called, though, and she tapped her comm badge, acknowledging the request
for her presence.
As she trudged her way from her cabin to the turbolift, her
thoughts were not on the task ahead, but on the letter she'd barely had time to
read before being called away. It had arrived that morning from her sister,
with a progress report concerning her daughter, Samantha.
The news had not been
good. Now the matter would have to wait again, just at the time when it really needed her full attention.
By the time she'd reached the observation lounge, McDonald had
managed to cast aside her personal problems for the moment and compose herself.
Inside, she found Lieutenant Commander Erika Benteen,
Also present was Tertius Galenius, the youthful centurion from
Magna Roma. He had, to everyone's surprise, been selected as the new assistant
chief of security by the captain—filling a slot in the department left by the
loss of Sito Jaxa. The friendly, competent Bajoran had, regretfully, departed,
having been coerced by her government—along with just about every other member of her race in Starfleet—to
serve aboard their first warp capable starship, the Emissary.
For now, though, Galenius stood in for the newly promoted
Lieutenant Müeller, who'd accompanied Mantovanni and Matsuoka to the latter's
new command, the Olympic-class
hospital ship USS Averroes.
Benteen motioned McDonald to a chair.
"Sorry to call you back after you'd finished your shift,
Doctor, but we have a small medical problem on our hands."
McDonald took her seat and nodded to the others. The Felisian's
eyes seemed to narrow, and her nostrils twitched ever so slightly, when she
returned the greeting. Jane knew from working with her that something about her
own appearance or demeanour had aroused Hatshepsut's professional curiosity.
Damn it all, anyhow.
She shrugged it off for the moment and turned her attention to Benteen,
who was pointing to the man on the screen behind her.
"Doctor, this is Alex Barker, commanding the Pride of Coventry. Captain, this is our
acting CMO, Dr. Jane McDonald.
"Now, sir, if you'd care to explain your problem for
us."
"Thank you, Commander." The captain, a square-faced man with short, glossily jet-black
hair, began, "My vessel makes a
regular run between the Rigel systems and the Way Station in Sector 242. I don't normally carry many
passengers, but I have a problem with some right now.
"I have aboard a
family of Mokharan merchants, who are returning home from a trading trip to
Rigel VII. Two days ago, one of them came to me and asked if it were possible
to increase the ship's speed, as they needed to return home earlier than they'd
planned. I didn't have a problem with that and agreed to go to warp five.
Unfortunately, that wasn't good enough; he wanted me to increase to maximum warp and maintain it
until they were home. Now, I try to keep my engines up to scratch, but they're
older than I am and there's no way they'd stand all that exertion.
"I explained this,
and asked him why he needed that much speed, but that was when he clamped
up—clamped up and stormed out. I followed and tried to reason with him, but
there was nothing doing. All he did was shut himself and his family in their
cabin."
The silence grew uncomfortably long; he was obviously upset.
Finally, Benteen prompted the merchantman to continue.
"And you thought the problem resolved, sir?"
Barker nodded. "Yes,
but it wasn't. The Mokhara didn't appear for the evening meal, but that's
pretty normal. They tend to keep to themselves, but I've always found them
decent enough—as long as you don't ask too many questions. We were just sitting
down to eat when I got a call from the bridge. Janeer—the one who'd requested I
increase speed—was holding my watch officer hostage in an effort to… persuade us into full warp.
"Thankfully, we
managed to overpower him without much difficulty—it was fairly obvious he
didn't really want to hurt anyone—and lock him in a cabin on his own.
"Our real problems
started when we went to check on the rest of the Mokhara. Janeer's wife let us
into their cabin, and seemed to accept that her husband's attempt had failed
easily enough. Then my first officer saw that their son appeared to be ill—it's
difficult to tell from under their robes and the mask they wear—and suggested
that we call our ship's doctor. The wife reacted… very badly." Barker again hesitated.
"Could you further define, 'badly', Captain?" requested
Galenius.
The older man chuckled rather harshly.
"Yes, Centurion, I
can: She picked
up a short spear and threw it into my X-O's shoulder."
All of them looked startled, McDonald noted, with the exception of
the Roman. He simply nodded.
"Understandably, I
had no choice but to stun her, but I've never seen any Mokhara react like these
two have.
"So, right now,
I've got the two Mokharan adults in separate cabins and their son in my
sickbay. All that my doctor can tell is that the boy's sick, and neither of his
parents will explain either what's wrong with him or what their beef is. I need
Starfleet's help. You're the closest ship, and not only do you have far better
medical facilities than the Coventry, you can get this family home a lot faster
than she can."
Benteen nodded. "That shouldn't be a problem, Captain Barker;
we'll be glad to help. My helmsman tells me that we can rendezvous with the
She then turned to the other three and asked, "Any
questions?"
The Felisian gently shook her head, but Jane asked, "Captain
Barker, how's your first officer?"
"I'm told she's on
the mend, thank you, Doctor. Now if you'll all excuse me, I need to prepare my
passengers for transfer.
"Centurion, I want the parents transferred to the brig and
the son to sickbay. Doctor, please see to the boy. From what Captain Barker
described, I think he's the key to this situation. A diagnosis should give us
some information; armed with that, I can try to get some answers from his
parents. You'll assist there, Hatshepsut.
"Since we don't have much in the database about the Mokhara,
I've contacted our facilities at Way Station
242. I suspect we'll get more out of
them than going directly to the Mokharan home world. As soon as we receive the
info packet, I'll forward it to you."
She stood. "All right, unless there's anything else…?"
Galenius gestured. She acknowledged him with a nod, and he
observed, "I actually think it best to keep the parents in quarters rather
than the brig. It wouldn't do to have the boy learn his mother and father are
now imprisoned, when he is already unwell."
After a moment, Benteen nodded. "Very considerate, Centurion.
I have no doubt you can keep them secure in guest cabins. Very well, handle it
however you see fit."
When there were no other suggestions or comments, she dismissed
them.
McDonald headed for sickbay to prepare for the arrival of her young
patient, intending to read up on what little there was concerning the Mokhara
in the ship's database. This, plus whatever challenge the sick child's
treatment might present, would serve as an excellent distraction from having to
deal with her daughter's latest antics as described in her sister's letter.
Almost eagerly, she set to work learning all she could about the Mokhara.
This lasted for all of seven minutes.
Even if Jane had decided
she'd forget about her personal problems for now, M'Raav Hatshepsut had not:
The Felisian appeared at the doorway to her office and, without preamble,
asserted, "Your attention, I believe, Doctor, would rather be
elsewhere?"
Jane's problem was returned suddenly from that mental closet where
she'd quite carefully placed it for later examination.
Yes, on my patient
rather than you, Counselor.
She sighed. Dealing with this later
had just become an untenable option. McDonald steeled herself for the
emotional upset that confronting one's own problems often brought.
Ship's counselors often had that effect upon people.
“You're not going to let me leave this for the moment and get on
with the problem at hand, are you, Hatshepsut?" Jane asked, summoning a
weak smile.
"Would you be at your best if I did?" The Felisian's
query was matter-of-fact. "Commander Benteen said that our problem would be arriving within
three hours. I think that we can spare one of those three and attend to
yours."
She then entered and made herself comfortable on the office couch.
"Come in, please," said McDonald wryly.
Jane ordered a glass of cold orange juice from the replicator. It
would perk her up, and ready her for the arrival of the patient from the Pride of Coventry.
Before Hatshepsut, she placed a glass of water.
The Felisian's eyes narrowed and if it had not been carefully
placed under her, Jane was sure that she would have flicked her tail in
irritation. "Water? That's not
very hospitable."
"From your last medical, I'd surmise you've been indulging in
a little too much cream. Your species' metabolism, as you well know, doesn't
handle lactose products all that effectively."
"Quite," Hatshepsut replied, restraining an amused
trill. It was so like humans to deflect their own difficulties by bringing up
one of their accuser's. Admittedly, it was
true that she was partial to a bowl or two—or three—of Ktarian heavy cream… but
then she wasn't really there to receive advice.
"So, Doctor, what was it that was distracting you when you came into the
observation lounge?"
Jane took a deep breath, exhaled and let her shoulders sink
slightly. "It's about my daughter, Samantha."
"You've received another letter from… Elisabeth?"
Jane nodded. "Yes. Samantha's… well, Elisabeth thinks that
she's been hanging with the wrong crowd at the starport."
Hatshepsut knew a fair amount about Jane's recent family history.
The doctor had undergone counseling for much of last year after the death of
her husband, Iain, during the attack on Earth by the Breen in 2375. It was
something that the couple had discussed, but from the opposite angle: They had
considered the possibility that Jane's
career in Starfleet might lead to her
death. Throughout, Samantha had lived on Mars with her father, who'd worked as
a leading naval architect at the Utopia Planitia shipyards. With his death,
Samantha had gone to live with her aunt in
"Go on," the Felisian encouraged gently.
"I feel as I'm failing her as a mother. Right now I should be
there for her and not here dealing with the medical problems of a ship's crew and beyond…"
"Until Iain's…" even though it was slight, Hatshepsut
noticed Jane's hesitation over the word, "…death… Samantha had someone to rely upon. Someone who was there for
her… and now isn't. Elisabeth can't be expected to step into the breech. It's
not fair to either of them."
Hatshepsut reached over and placed a soft paw on Jane's hand. It
was a rare gesture for a Felisian, and McDonald appreciated it even more for
that. She gave the counselor another anaemic smile.
"I'm just not sure what to do. Earth is simply not what I want in a career… and it was precisely what Iain wanted, and needed.
Our arrangement was perfect: I pursued the assignments that allowed me to
advance my skills; and he stayed put, because the best place for a naval
architect is Utopia Planitia. I love my daughter, M'Raav, but I'm just not willing to sacrifice my career to
raise her. If only…" her voice trailed off.
"…Iain hadn't died?" Hatshepsut finished.
Jane glared at the use of that
word, but nodded. "Exactly."
She was a hard woman; this Hatshepsut knew without question. She'd
clashed with Captain Mantovanni on more than one occasion, and had managed, for
the most part, to actually hold her own. That spoke of an impressive
determination and stubbornness. Despite her still apparent grief, though, no
more tears would be forthcoming—at least not for a while.
Her husband, Great Lady
watch over him, must have been either a formidable man—or a veritable mouse, she thought.
Jane nodded and picked up her orange juice, which she'd been
nursing, and downed it in an angry toss.
"M'Raav, I can't spare any more time for this. I can't come
up with a real solution until Liberty
reaches Earth in a few months, anyway. I've got work to do, so if you'll excuse
me…" she rose, walked over to the office door, and none too subtly
gestured through it as it opened.
For a moment, Hatshepsut regarded her with an unwavering feline
gaze.
Well, that's about all
the progress I'm likely to make today, the Felisian thought. Her agitation will subside after I'm gone,
and work is an excellent therapy—for Jane. Some part of her, though, will dwell
on this—and that's good. Perhaps she'll find herself compelled to act in some
way.
Wordlessly, she stood, and slipped out of the room.
As if on cue, the communicator on Jane's desk beeped.
It was Commander Benteen. "Doctor,
we've received those files on the Mokhara from the CMO at Way Station 242. I'm uploading now and you should be able
to go through it momentarily. Doctor Exton apologises, but it's all they've
got. It would appear the Mokhara are decidedly tight-lipped about their medical
information. I'll let you know as soon as we've made rendezvous with the
Coventry. Benteen out."
Hatshepsut, with her superior hearing, caught all of that, even
after the door had closed behind her. When she glanced back, Jane was already
frowning at her terminal.
That's what she and the
captain have in common that I'd missed.
They both frown more
than they smile.
***
"I was wondering if
I might have a moment of your time, Subcommander."
Jane had been standing near the centre seat for almost ten
minutes, while T'Laris conferred with Centurion Galenius. It was something
about the deployment of security personnel to repel boarders. The Roman had
glanced at McDonald once or twice—perfectly willing to stand by while she asked
her question, it seemed.
T'Laris had never even glanced her way.
Finally, the doctor had grown weary of waiting, and, during a
slight lull in their interplay, had interjected with what she thought was a
polite, but insistent attempt to gain the Romulan's attention.
Liberty's X-O chose to ignore her.
"Are my instructions clear, Centurion?" she inquired.
The Roman came to attention.
"They are, Subcommander."
She nodded to him. "Then proceed; you are excused from
further drill participation until the matter with the Mokharans has been
concluded to Commander Benteen's satisfaction. Dismissed."
Finally, as Galenius headed for the turbolift, she regarded the
doctor.
"What is so urgent that you felt the need to interrupt me
while I was issuing instructions during a vitally important exercise,
Doctor?" For a voice that seemed relatively distanced from emotion, the
undercurrent of irritation was surprisingly apparent.
Jane was a bit taken aback. "I'm sorry, Subcommander, but
it's important that I send a subspace message to Earth immediately."
"One of the conditions of our drill is what your vernacular
calls 'silent running,' Lieutenant Commander. No outgoing signals are to be
permitted for the duration of this evaluation."
"How long is that?" McDonald asked.
Without averting her gaze or changing her tone, T'Laris inquired,
"Lieutenant T'Vaar, time until exercise termination?"
"Twenty-seven hours, nine minutes," came the immediate
reply.
"That's over a solar day!" Jane exclaimed. "I can't
wait that long; this is an emergency."
T'Laris inclined her head slightly. "Explain the nature of
said crisis, please."
Jane hadn't expected that question; she folded her arms.
"It's a private, family matter."
The Romulan's expression never wavered. "I see.
"Request denied."
"What?" McDonald's incredulousness bordered on
insubordination; she was vaguely aware of this, but it didn't stop her.
"You've got to be joking."
"You humans are an obtuse lot. I am not, as you put it,
'joking.' Request denied." She
adjusted herself in the centre seat and consulted one of the armchair panels.
Two more words ended the exchange.
"Dismissed,
Doctor."
***
Within the hour, the Mokharans were aboard the Liberty and she was away, leaving Pride of Coventry—and her obviously
relieved captain—in her wake. Galenius took charge of the parents, interning
them together in guest quarters—with a pair of security crewman standing by,
ostensibly to "see to their needs." The child was beamed directly to
sickbay and straight onto a diagnostic bed.
Jane's first view of a Mokharan confirmed Captain Barker's
comment: It was nearly impossible to tell anything about them through the heavy
cloak and mask with which they hid themselves: Once in place, the Mokharans'
mode of dress made Puritans look like D'Abo girls.
Yet from the way the youngster twisted and turned on the bed, she
wasn't surprised that Pride of Coventry's
first mate had guessed the boy was sick. Her first thoughts were that he
was suffering from a fever of some kind, but she knew better than to go by
preliminary impressions alone—as useful as they could often be.
"Well Srv, this may not be a full adult, but I'm sure
whatever information we can glean here will be of great interest to Doctor
Exton at Way Station." Jane gave
a thin-lipped smile to the Bolian nurse. "Anyway, we'll need to get the
coverings off him in order to perform a thorough examination."
Srv did as he was directed, carefully helping her remove the
child's heavy blue cloak, and then the inner clothing. They were entirely the
same colour, which indicated—as Jane knew from the scant briefing sent from Way Station—that the boy was of the
merchant caste. The only exception to this practical, if unimaginative, colour
scheme was the facial piece, which they found matched his skin tone exactly: A
grey-white pallor with a hint of deep green.
The mask was an interesting object in itself. It was quite light,
and seemed to be of some cunningly carved ceramic material. The holes for the
mouth, eyes and nostrils exactingly matched the boy's broad, flat features;
clearly it was a custom item. There was writing etched on its interior; she
knew it could be something as mundane as the boy's name to an elaborate curse
upon anyone who dared remove it.
Other than on his head, where the dark green strands grew
exceedingly thick, the young Mokharan was entirely hairless. Jane noted, upon
closer examination of his face, that under his fluttering lids, the eyes lacked
either irises or pupils, and were a singular, deep green.
"It's clear that the Mokhara have a strong taboo about exposing
their skin," Jane noted. "Srv, why don't you replicate a blanket that
matches the colour of the boy's clothing? I think that may go a little way
towards easing any discomfort he may have about his new surroundings when he
wakes up."
While the Bolian performed his task, Jane began taking readings.
There was, she knew, little with which to compare them, but she had hopes it
would be enough.
***
"The Mokhara are indigenous to Sector 242, just within the
borders of acknowledged Federation space, but slightly 'off the beaten path,'
to use the idiom." T'Vaar reacted to the amused chuckles of her shipmates
with a slightly arched eyebrow, but continued apace. "First contact
occurred in 2303, when the USS Cousteau discovered
their colony in Sector 244; this was a group that had lost touch with its home
system, Dragonis Aleph, charted in 2157. It is a binary; the Mokharan home
world is one of two M-class planets orbiting a gas giant of the outer
star."
"A highly unusual configuration," noted Sera MacLeod.
Since her return to the Liberty,
the brilliant half-Vulcan had kept a low profile on the bridge, perhaps in an
attempt to avoid stepping on Benteen's toes. MacLeod had been the ship's chief
of operations until her departure to oversee the Tereshkova's refit and eventual recommission into the Arwen Evenstar, and had been,
admittedly, an enormously difficult act to follow. She was both incredibly
popular with the crew, and extremely adept.
Mantovanni, after being notified of Sera's availability for
reassignment, had practically leapt at the opportunity to have her return—odd
though the circumstances had seemed to some—and had resurrected the old title
"science officer" for her specifically.
She was using the freedom that being out of the conventional
hierarchy gave her to its fullest. She conducted research, tinkered with the
engines—much to the amusement of Irriantia—and generally wandered the ship
leaving things better than when she found them.
It is, Benteen thought, incredibly
irritating, in a "shake your head and laugh" sort of way. No one who doesn't have circuitry has any right to be that efficient. I know T'Laris
is aggravated at the fact that Sera reports directly to the captain instead of
her. I'm not sure how good an idea that…
She chided herself, and refocused her attention on T'Vaar's
briefing.
"…not unique."
"The inner planet, now known as Mokhara Prime, was rendered
uninhabitable by a previous nuclear conflict."
Erika suppressed a faint shudder at the thought of a world ending
its life in this way. It was something that no sane species or individual
wanted to see happen. Her own world had come close on several occasions—and
then succumbed to the temptation in the mid-21st century. Earth had
been lucky to survive; and were it not for the aid of first the Vulcans and
then the Andorians, life at home could have been quite different.
"The second outer world, Mokhara, had been abandoned for
reasons unknown. The Federation established a colony, Xhura, on this planet,
and shares the world with the Mokhara—who returned from their three colonies to
repopulate their home system once they had the means. Way Station 242 is at the apex of the Alpha Quadrant's only orbital
elevator…"
"Don't let Mav hear you say that," Benteen warned
good-naturedly. The rest chuckled; again, T'Vaar raised a brow, then she
continued without missing a beat.
"…outside the
Tellar system, of course. Starfleet engineers restored the mechanism, and have
since used Way Station 242 as a
staging post for the Federation's continued colonial expansion programme."
"Currently, the Mokhara are an independent political entity.
A joint consultative council mediates problems and relations between the two,
as well as running Mokhara-Xhura Holdings, the corporation that owns and
operates the orbital elevator. Practically, though, it is Starfleet that
handles much of the security and administrative necessities for Way Station 242.
"There have been tensions between both the Federation
colonists and the Mokhara, and between the Mokhara and the Ni'kria Hegemony—a
species from Sector 244, just outside Federation space."
T'Vaar finished and, after a nod from MacLeod, resumed her seat.
"Thank you, Lieutenant," acknowledged Benteen, and
turned to Galenius. "How are the parents?"
"They are subdued, but not happy. They have asked after their
son—incessantly. When I told them he
was being tended by our most capable physician, both were extremely upset—the
mother in particular; fortunately, I had seen fit to deprive them of projectile
weaponry before making my announcement."
MacLeod and Benteen grinned at Tertius' rather drolly delivered
observation; McDonald and T'Vaar were both caught a bit by surprise.
"That would further confirm Doctor Exton's report,"
Hatshepsut added, trilling in amusement. "The Mokhara exhibit strong
taboos towards medical practitioners."
Galenius dipped his head in agreement with the Felisian. "As
you say, Counselor. I was loath to inform the parents for that reason, but it
would have been against ethics—Starfleet and
Roman—to do otherwise."
Benteen nodded. "And you, Doctor McDonald; what have you been
able to come up with from your analysis of the boy?
"Doctor?"
Jane looked up from her PADD; she'd been going over the notes that
had accumulated during her initial study. What she wanted to say was, "To be honest, I've been hampered by the complete lack of helpful medical information in
Doctor Exton's report. Given the amount of time the Federation—and he in
particular—has spent working with this species, I would have thought there'd be
a little more to go on. Without some kind of benchmark, it's been extremely
difficult to formulate a clear picture."
But she didn't. It had been a long enough day already—not to say
tedious—and though the challenge of working on her young patient had lifted her
spirits a little, Jane was beginning to flag again, and knew it. The team knew
the problems with the lack of data and it would get them nowhere to have them
reiterated here, however annoying it might be.
Instead, she kept her cool.
"From the initial examination, my conjecture was that he was
running an elevated temperature and perspiring heavily, leading to a
preliminary diagnosis of fever—uninspired though that may seem. As to its cause…
Nurse Srv and I were able to isolate an agent fairly quickly. The problem is
that an analysis of his blood work indicated that agent would appear to be a
naturally occurring factor within his system—right down to the cellular
level."
"I'm currently working on a genetic comparison of the agent
and the host. Hopefully I can determine what caused the agent to act as it has…
"Right now, though, he's stable, Commander, but without more
information to go on, coming up with a possible remedy will take longer than
I'd prefer."
"Noted, Doctor," Benteen said. "In the meantime,
the counselor and I are going to pay the parents a visit. Galenius, I'd like
you there as well."
"Pilum is optional,
Centurion," Hatshepsut purred. The universal translator rendered the word
as "javelin," but Galenius noted her use of the proper Latin.
"I am pleased you feel secure in my charge, Commander,"
he answered with careful dignity, and followed Benteen. He gave her no
indication as to whether he'd gotten the joke.
Hatshepsut purred uncertainly, but McDonald caught the Roman's
slight grin as he passed.
"I do believe you've just been outflanked, Counselor. Fall back and regroup," Jane
whispered.
Erika Benteen's first look at an adult Mokhara confirmed
everything the report sent by Doctor Exton and nothing more. They were
short—around five feet tall. Both were swathed in blue cloaks, and both wore
the same type of white ceramic facemask as their son had. There was nothing to
distinguish between them except the red glove on one's right hand. She knew
from Galenius' earlier report, and from the little data they had, that this was
the boy's mother. It indicated a connection to the Mokharan soldier caste, but
nobody actually knew what it specifically represented.
The father had stood as soon as Erika entered their gilded cage.
The mother had remained sitting; and from her hunched posture, it didn't take
much to see that she was upset. He turned to face Benteen directly and
inquired, "You are the one in command here?"
Erika nodded, but before she could elaborate, the Mokharan
launched into his demand.
"You are holding our son against our wishes. We wish him
taken from the touch of the…" the Mokharan paused, as if contemplating
having to swallow a spoonful of vile liquid for the first time, "…medical practitioner you have placed him
with and returned to us, his parents."
Erika looked at the father as she waited for him to finish
speaking. She'd expected his voice to be slightly muffled, but to her surprise
it sounded quite natural. She wondered whether the mask was designed to conduct
sound or if it was something in the actual voice. Everyone, though, noted how
the father had loaded the phrase "medical practitioner" with all the
bile of an upset stomach after a night spent drinking Romulan blue ale.
"I'm Lieutenant Commander Erika Benteen, the USS Liberty's chief of operations, and you
are?"
"I am Janeer." He was curt, if informative.
"Well, Janeer, I believe you've already had the pleasure of
Centurion Galenius' company, and this…" Erika turned to the Felisian
beside her, "…is Lieutenant Commander M'Raav Hatshepsut, the ship's
counselor."
At the sight of the Felisian, the Mokharan stiffened just one more
notch, if that was actually possible. He pointed at Hatshepsut and demanded,
"What is a ship's counselor?"
Hatshepsut stepped forward and explained, "The ship's
counselor advises the captain and his officers on interpersonal relationships,
sees to crew morale and is responsible for the emotional well-being of any
passengers. This, naturally, includes you and your family."
Janeer considered this last piece of information, before replying
with another question, again directed at Benteen. "Does that mean that
this…creature is a doctor of
the mind?"
With Janeer, the word "doctor" fared even less well than
had "medical practitioner." Hatshepsut remained unperturbed despite
the vitriolic tone.
"Yes it does," Benteen replied. "And, believe it or
not, we're actually here to help you."
"Janeer, we do need the help Starfleet can offer." The
boy's mother spoke for the first time. Her voice was softer than that of her
husband, but unlike his, it was cracked by emotion, no doubt brought on by the
strain of their situation. He looked down at her and nodded gently. Then he
levelled his gaze back at Benteen.
"My life-mate, Aqru'un, is correct. We do need the help that
Starfleet can offer us."
Then his voice hardened again. "But we do not need 'help,' as you call it, from
the ones you call 'doctors'—or
'counselors.'" As the Mokharan finished, he pointed directly at
Hatshepsut. Out of the corner of her eye Erika noted that Galenius had subtly
changed his stance in reaction to the sharp movement, but had gone no further.
It was as if the Roman had eased himself up from the starting block and was
preparing to sprint, but had yet to hear the crack of the official's starter
pistol.
Benteen appreciated the preparedness to stop any aggressive move;
it allowed her to focus completely on the task of getting through to this man
without being distracted by more unpleasant possibilities inherent to the
situation. She stepped forward directly into Janeer's line of sight and looked
directly at the eyeholes in his mask.
"Currently, sir, we are
treating your family as our guests aboard the Liberty, but we have more than sufficient reason for placing you
both under close confinement in quarters: You, Janeer, for attempted hijack of
a civilian starship; and your wife for her assault upon a member of that ship's
crew. We believe you have what you regard as important, justifiable reasons for what you did. It's one of the reasons
you're not in the brig. An explanation would go a long way to mitigating your
actions.
"Otherwise, I'll have no recourse but to hand you and your
wife over to the appropriate authorities when we reach Way Station."
Initially, the Mokharan gave no reaction to Benteen's words, and
stood there as if digesting what she had said. Erika looked around at
Hatshepsut, hoping she might have an appropriate next step in mind. All she got
was a studied blink of those Felisian eyes before her attention was drawn back
to Janeer.
"Travel to Mokhara at greater speed is all the help we
need." Janeer looked down at his wife and then back at Benteen. "We do
demand that you return our son to us. Your actions add to his torment."
Benteen tried again. "Janeer, your son is sick. If you don't
help us, we can't help him."
The voice behind the mask remained silent.
It's not hostility to
Starfleet, per se, she thought, but to doctors of any sort. Could it be a "survival of the
fittest" mentality? A person who doesn't endure without medical help
doesn't deserve to live?
Erika opened her mouth to speak again, but was stayed by a soft
paw on her arm.
Hatshepsut said quietly into her ear, "Enough for now."
As if in support of the Felisian's interpretation, her comm badge
beeped.
"Sickbay to
Benteen."
Now facing away from the Mokharans, Erika released an exasperated,
but carefully close-mouthed sigh through her nose. She tapped the little device
and said, "Yes, Doctor? Is there a change in the boy's condition?"
"Yes. I think you
should come and have a look."
As they departed, Janeer gave her something else to think about.
"A child's condition, spoken about in front of his
parents—while they themselves wait, imprisoned, kept from him by… by… dirifili."
The translator refused to render the term, but no one thought it a
compliment.
At the door, Erika turned and addressed the two Mokharans in as
sympathetic a manner as she could manage.
"Right now, Janeer, I doubt that… Commander McDonald will release your son to your care, but I'll see
if she'll allow you to visit him in sickbay. Without more information from you,
it's the best I can do."
She gave what she hoped would be interpreted by the aliens as a
reassuring smile and stepped out through the doors.
The last thing she heard, though, was Janeer muttering,
"Permission to see my own son?
"We are imprisoned by animals."
***
"Am I disturbing you?"
A muffled reply, presumably from Sera MacLeod, was completely
unintelligible.
Fortunately, the dolphin was there to translate.
"She says, 'Come right in, Doctor.'" Lieutenant
Commander Irriantia, Liberty's chief
engineer and, often, Sera's right-fin man, hovered near the immense piece of
equipment in which MacLeod was currently buried headfirst to her hips.
The private lab, which took up a significant portion of Deck 11,
reminded Jane of holographic representations she'd seen of Leonardo DaVinci's
workshop. There was half-finished "stuff" everywhere. Most of it she didn't recognize.
Such was the mind of Sera MacLeod.
"Don't worry," Irriantia chirped, anticipating
McDonald's thought. "None of it can hurt you—as long as you don't touch
it."
Having no idea how serious he was, Jane decided not to test him.
"What are you building?"
Again there came a muffled sound from within the mechanism. This
one went on for fifteen seconds, and seemed enthusiastic; evidently Sera could
hear Jane perfectly.
The reverse, however, wasn't the case.
For a second time, McDonald looked to Irriantia.
"It's something she's been developing in concert with Admiral
T'Kara at Starfleet Research," the engineer said.
A tone that sounded almost scolding emerged from the hidden mouth
of Sera MacLeod.
The dolphin's head bobbed. He seemed almost embarrassed. "She
wants me to add that I've contributed, as well."
Jane smiled. "No doubt."
She made small talk for a few moments, then turned towards the
door.
"Well, I think I've managed to clear my head. Back to
work."
As if just remembering something, she suddenly snapped her fingers
and looked back.
"Might I use your terminal? I have a message to send."
Sera's muffled voice answered promptly.
The dolphin confirmed, "She says, 'By all means.'"
Jane McDonald picked her way across the room to where Commander
Sera MacLeod's subspace link to Earth—the one she used for regular
communication with Admiral T'Kara when in range—remained open and active.
Open and active, that is, despite
the current exercise.
Smiling, Jane sat down to have a little talk with her daughter.
***
In the turbolift, Galenius began with, "A brief observation,
if I may?"
Benteen glanced at him, and inquired in turn, "Centurion, is
this a simple matter, or do I need to halt the lift?"
The Magna Roman gave her a querulous expression and said,
"No, sir. I simply wish to remind you that the security of the crew,
yourself included, is my responsibility. Stepping between individuals with
known violent proclivities and me compromises my ability to protect you. I
request that you not do such a thing again."
Silence reigned for a moment; then Benteen reacted.
"That's it?" she blurted.
Tertius’ curious expression deepened. "Yes, Commander. What
did you think I was going to say?"
Benteen chided herself.
You're assuming Aldus
and Tertius are cut from the same mold, simply because they're both Roman,
Erika. You learned better than that your first year at the Academy.
A cynical part of her added, Then,
again, Tertius may not know your
history, yet.
But he will.
In sickbay, they found Nurse Srv and Doctor Jane McDonald working
on their young patient. For the three arrivals, it was the first time they'd
seen any part of a Mokharan uncovered: The boy's lower body was covered in a
blanket, leaving his head and torso exposed. Benteen moved to get a closer look
and wondered why they felt forced to cover themselves. If the boy is any indication, they're an attractive people, she
thought. Did the masks worn by his parents also hide features just as pleasing?
The sheen of sweat and slight shivers made it clear he was still
suffering from his mysterious sickness.
"Doctor?"
McDonald looked up from the diagnostic readouts she'd been
studying and gave them a weak smile. That she was tired was evident from her
drawn features; both Benteen and Hatshepsut could see worry etched on her face
as well.
Only Hatshepsut knew that Jane's concern might be something more
"motherly."
"I've still got the boy stabilised, although considering the
acute nature of his fever, I've not been able to fully alleviate the symptoms.
What's more worrisome to me are these." She indicated a pattern of dark,
soft mottling sprayed across the boy's visible skin.
Benteen frowned. "How so, Doctor? Aren't they natural to
Mokharan pigmentation?"
"No, they're not. They only began appearing twenty minutes
ago. The markings are heaviest down his spine, but they're found
everywhere—including under his hair."
"Could the agent you mentioned in the briefing be
responsible, Doctor?" Hatshepsut asked.
"It could be, and is," Jane acknowledged. "Genetic
comparison of the agent showed that it's not actually native to the host,
although, as I said, it permeates his system down to the cellular level. I'd
say that until a matter of a few hours ago the agent was dormant, and
represented no threat whatsoever to the boy. But now…" McDonald hesitated,
as if refusing to acknowledge what was occurring might help to stay it. Then
she continued.
"Now, it's actively working to alter his genetic code.
Unfortunately, I can't tell how long it's going to take or what the end result
will be—and I certainly can't attempt to stop it without more data. I'm stuck
at Hippocrates' first rule: 'Do no harm.'"
Benteen's sour expression said, "This is getting better and better all the time," but she
remained silent.
"Is there anything more you can tell us, Doctor?"
Hatshepsut prodded gently.
"Yes. Something was introduced into the boy's system and
activated the already present agent. I had Nurse Srv investigate all the
possible disease vectors and we came up with this."
Jane held up a sealed phial. Inside was a milky black liquid.
Benteen peered at the substance a moment before declaring,
"All right Doctor, I'll grant you, it looks disgusting; but what is
it?"
"For lack of a better term, call it a… genetic initiator. It's what set the harmful agent in motion.
"The problem is, we found it in the boy's digestive
tract."
Even Tertius was taken aback at that revelation.
"You're saying it was something he ate?" Benteen couldn't wrap her mind around it, at first.
"Yes. Since it's not a naturally occurring substance, it's
almost certain he was given it in his food. Deliberately."
There was more than a touch of anger in McDonald's voice as she gave her
explanation.
"No doubt you suspect the parents," Galenius
interjected.
Jane nodded. "It's more than likely. I think we need to not
only question them further, but search their belongings."
"Could this 'genetic initiator' be harmful to humans or other
species in any way?" Hatshepsut's pupils had become slits.
"No," McDonald answered, firmly enough to assuage their
fears. "It's very specific to a certain genome—the Mokharan genome."
"Do as the doctor recommends, Galenius: Search our guests and
their quarters, thoroughly."
The Roman nodded. "Yes, Commander. I'll also contact the Pride of Coventry and make certain they
left nothing incriminating conveniently behind."
Benteen smiled approvingly. "Good thinking, Centurion. Get to
it." As he hastened to comply, she
told the other two, "I'll be on the bridge, informing Subcommander T'Laris
of our situation."
She didn't look overjoyed at the prospect.
After they'd left, Hatshepsut addressed McDonald with the always
cheering, "You look terrible."
Jane made an annoyed, dismissive gesture. "I just wish Shiro
were here… I could use his input about now."
"About now, Shiro is taking command of USS Averroes at Starbase 717,"
Hatshepsut reminded her. Noting Jane's persistent glower, she added
reassuringly, "He himself recommended you to Starfleet Medical as his
permanent replacement."
"Yeah… I'm sure the captain was absolutely thrilled by
that," McDonald observed sarcastically. She took a medical scanner and ran
it over the boy again; obviously she hoped the gesture would be sufficient to
deter any further psychoanalysis.
She hoped in vain; the Felisian trilled in amusement, then noted,
"You don't have to like each other to work together effectively. Captain
Mantovanni knows that… and trusts that you do, as well."
"Well, that's good… because…" McDonald fell silent, and
pretended to be engrossed in her readings.
"Because…?" Hatshepsut persisted. She sensed an imminent
explosion.
She wasn't disappointed.
"Because I can't stand the man, all right? He's standoffish,
arrogant, inflexible…!" McDonald cut off her tirade in mid-sentence, as
Drs. Aiello and Carteris glanced up from their own tasks to determine what had
so disturbed her. Her glare was enough to discourage the latter, who promptly
went back to whatever it was he was doing.
Aiello, though, wasn't impressed. He gave them what was—to
McDonald, anyway—an infuriating little wave, grinned, and only then returned to
studying his terminal.
McDonald took a few deep breaths, and seemed to have recovered her
emotional equilibrium—until Hatshepsut added, "Then what you're telling me
is that both your professional and
personal lives are a shambles."
Jane responded with two words.
"Get out."
***
Subcommander T'Laris had absorbed Benteen's report with her usual
aplomb—and had responded with her customary minimalist charm.
"Very well.
"There is a communiqué for you from Way Station 242. You may use the… 'ready room' to receive it. Carry
on."
Considering that she had been the captain of the USS Lakota for all of four days—until the
collapse of Admiral Leyton's ill-considered coup
d'etât—she found using the ready room less than comfortable—almost like
trespassing in a garden from which she'd already been cast. T'Laris herself had
not yet ventured to utilize it in the captain's absence; considering his
feelings towards Romulans in general, her trepidation was probably wise.
When the commanding officer of Way
Station 242, Captain David Hughes, discovered that he would not be speaking to the Luciano Mantovanni, he appeared more than a little disgruntled.
Moreover, as always, her own reputation preceded her, and Hughes was distinctly
displeased to be discussing important Starfleet matters with, as her friends
from the North American continent might say, an "ex-con." His manner
had been officious and somewhat brusque—bordering, Erika thought, on the
genuinely disdainful.
"Way Station is more than
aware of the Liberty's situation and
we're doing our best to help resolve it. To that end, a Mokharan militia
starship is on its way at maximum warp to rendezvous. There will be a Mokharan
dignitary aboard... you will afford
him every courtesy. Is that clear, Lieutenant Commander?"
With an effort, she'd managed to maintain her cool.
"Abundantly, sir," she'd replied. "Do you know
anything more about the Mokharan situation we might find useful?"
Captain Hughes had then told her, curtly, "It's a cultural problem… the last thing that either Starfleet or Way
Station 242 needs is to have Mokharan
feathers ruffled, so to speak. Now, unless you have something of importance for me, Lieutenant Commander…?" And—without
waiting to see if she did—he'd abruptly cut the channel.
Liberty's chief of operations smiled ruefully. No one cares about ruffling my
feathers.
She sat and pondered, wondering what Mantovanni would have done in
her stead.
He'd have probably
verbally eviscerated Hughes for his attitude. That's captain's privilege, after
all.
The door chimed and, before she could answer, Doctor McDonald
boiled into the ready room and placed a pair of gray ceramic containers on the
desk. Then she stood back, hair slightly awry, arms folded and lips pursed.
"Yes, Doctor?"
Jane's report was terse and betrayed emotions just restrained.
"T'Laris sent me to you: I analysed the substance from these
two flasks found in our Mokharan guests' quarters—and confirmed it's the same
substance contained in my patient's digestive tract."
Lovely. More
complications.
Erika was initially unsure how to respond, given her earlier
conversation with Captain Hughes; and the momentary hesitation was clearly too
much for McDonald.
"How could they?
How could they do this to their own child?" Jane released an angry sigh.
"Doctor, I–" Erika tried to interject, but failed.
"Commander, they deliberately
gave their son a substance that alters his genetic coding, which for all we
know could kill him!"
"Doctor McDonald!" Lieutenant Commander Benteen employed
a sharper tone. "I know what
they've done… but Starfleet wants this matter handled with extreme care. The Mokharans are sending a dignitary to help smooth
this over."
“‘Smooth this
over’?" Jane repeated incredulously. "Doesn't
Starfleet know what they did?"
"Yes, they do, Doctor. But they're regarding this as a cultural matter, and we need to handle
it with care."
"Well," McDonald snapped angrily, "Starfleet
Command isn't my only recourse. I answer to a higher authority, Starfleet Medical, and as their representative
here, I'm telling you I don't find handling it 'with care' acceptable if these
people aren't held accountable for their actions!"
Oh, joy… another
self-righteous Hippo-crite. No wonder the captain finds her so irritating.
"Doctor McDonald, I appreciate your concern for the boy's
well-being, but if you are having difficulties with the way in which we or
Starfleet are handling this situation, might I suggest you see Lieutenant
Commander Hatshepsut for some perspective before you mount your charger and
ride off to Starfleet Medical?"
"I do not need to
see the ship's counselor any more than I already have recently, thank you." McDonald's reply was
almost grated out of her mouth. "So, Commander, what are you going to do?"
"At the moment, I plan to tread very carefully and see if I
can get some answers out of this dignitary."
McDonald nodded, suddenly deflated, and wearily made her way out
of the ready room.
The moment she was gone, Erika returned to the question she'd
asked herself just before the whirlwind that was Jane McDonald had burst in.
How should I proceed?
It was clear that T'Laris would be little help: She hadn't been
extensively briefed before assuming the X-O's slot, and was still in
"learning" mode; besides, it wasn't a military matter.
She no doubt, thus,
considers it "beneath her dignity."
That's not fair, Erika, another part of her thought.
Perhaps she just knows you'll handle it with a more adroit hand than would a
Romulan exchange officer.
She briefly considered handing their three passengers over to the
Mokharans with no further investigation—then dismissed it. After all, there was
the matter of a wounded civilian and an attempted hijack to take into
consideration.
Not to mention dealing
with Jane McDonald, avatar of Aeskeulapios, if I just release them. Checking with the bridge, Benteen discovered that the Mokharan
ship would not be arriving for another hour.
That was more than enough time for her to do what she felt that
she had to do.
***
"Bridge to
Commander MacLeod."
Sera tapped her comm badge. "This is MacLeod."
"Join me in the
observation lounge… immediately." Subcommander T'Laris' tone was positively brittle.
"We have a point of
order to discuss."
***
Benteen decided that the best course of action would be to press
the matter with the parents. After all, the evidence had been easy to find:
Galenius, using a specially-calibrated medical tricorder, had located the two
small, dark clay flasks in a matter of minutes, and promptly extracted them
from the Mokharans' luggage. McDonald's analysis had then confirmed her fears,
and brought her scampering to the ready room with a snoot full of righteous
indignation.
Erika had hoped she'd have longer to get to the bottom of this;
but with the Mokharan dignitary due to arrive within the hour, time was short.
Let's try the direct
approach, she thought.
Benteen held up the slim phial of black milky oil.
"Can you tell me what this is?"
The boy's parents had retreated to the cabin's far wall, and there
they stood at bay, the wife slightly huddled into her husband's arms.
Neither responded.
Erika could feel the weight of condemnation from Janeer's hooded
eyes, but it didn't deflect her from being blunt.
In fact, she sensed her own patience wearing thin.
"All right; be obdurate if you like. It's same genetic
initiator we found in your son's gut." She wondered if using the word
"gut" was a bit too vulgar, but hoped the visceral immediacy of the
word might nudge the parents into explaining their actions. "We also found
it in the two flasks that Galenius extracted from your luggage an hour
ago."
Both Mokharans flinched. The two security crewmen standing beside
Erika twitched slightly, their hands held over the butts of their holstered
phasers. Galenius had reported to her that the security detail had been forced
to draw their weapons and train them on the "guests" while he'd
scanned through their belongings.
Benteen's voice was hard. "I'm waiting."
Janeer replied defiantly, "Human, you will wait. We do not
answer to you. How you think is not our concern."
There was a long silence. Neither side moved.
I think that this is
what you'd call a Mexican stand-off, she
thought. Interesting, though, that he said, "How" I think and not
"What."
She nodded to the security crewmen flanking her and turned to
leave. She wasn't going to get a thing from her intransigent guests, and could
only hope that the dignitary arriving from Mokhara would be more forthcoming.
As she reached the door, though, Janeer spoke again.
"You are dirifili.
You hold our child captive below the touch of a bearer of the black. You are
not Mokhara. You do not understand.
Our son must die, so that he may live again. It is necessary."
"You're right about one thing; we don't understand. You can hardly blame us, though, when you refuse to explain. Where I'm from,
parents are actually concerned for
their children."
Benteen had goaded him intentionally, and it nearly paid off.
Almost, almost he replied; but his
wife touched his arm and whispered something the universal translator rendered
in galling clarity.
"Do not let the dirifili bitch anger you, my
life-mate. She cannot understand. Her entire race cannot understand. Her whole Federation
cannot understand. Against us they are nothing."
Benteen could almost see the woman's face beneath the mask,
hostile and venomous. Before she felt the urge to add something even more
caustic, she left the room.
I'm a Starfleet officer,
and I can't say
it, Erika thought, but I can still think it. I don't care about cultural diversity and IDIC in this case.
Any people who would do that
to their children are monsters.
I just want them off my
ship.
***
Jane McDonald's first look at an adult-clothed Mokharan was not
that of her patient's merchant caste parents, but the dignitary who'd just
arrived. Unlike the boy, who'd worn a deep blue, the new arrival was swathed in
a cloak and coverings of the same green-tinged white as the facial mask she'd
removed. Benteen had introduced him as Genek, a Mokharan priest, and said that
he'd requested to see the boy as soon as he'd come aboard. With him were two
Mokharans, these covered from head to toe in black. Neither had spoken, and
Genek had not introduced them.
The priest asked, "You are the doctor who handled the
death?"
Benteen noted that he'd used the word "doctor" with a
little less disdain than Janeer.
"With respect… my patient is not dead." Jane gestured to where the boy lay on the
diagnostic bed; he was sleeping far more restfully than he'd been when Benteen
had last visited. "In fact, he's almost fully recovered from the changes
brought about by the genetic initiator his parents poisoned him with."
That's a great choice of words,
Jane—so much for diplomacy. She attempted to warn her. "Doctor…"
The Mokharan priest raised his clasped hands, before parting them
palms outward and fingers spread. It was obviously a gesture for silence, and
Benteen heeded it.
"Please, Lieutenant Commander. Although she does not know it,
your doctor is a bearer of the black. They are bound, and not bound, by our
strictest of strictures. She may speak freely in my presence… and in the
presence of bearers of the black."
Then he turned back to McDonald and her young patient. "You
accuse in ignorance, Doctor, and so will be forgiven; you and your medical
science lack the knowledge to know if the boy will endure, and live again. Each
child must be given the gift of
death. Whether it is to them a boon or a bane we shall all see.
Again, he addressed Benteen.
"Bring his parents," he commanded. "They must be
witness to his life, or to his death."
Benteen nodded her assent to a Vulcan security guard standing near
the exit. He wordlessly moved to comply.
"But the boy's
alive!"
Jane was insistent; and Benteen could see why. Before Genek had
arrived, they'd discussed what Janeer had told Erika. From what he'd said,
they'd guessed—rightly, it now seemed—that the parents had given their son the
genetic initiator as some kind of straightforward test. It was clear now that
the whole occurrence was far more—both a rebirth ceremony and a coming-of-age
rite. The question was, to what end? And if the boy had been administered the
genetic initiator and had now essentially recovered, why was Genek still
concerned he might die?
"What are you going to do if he doesn't pass your little
test, Genek?" Jane growled. "Try to kill him? Is that what the goon
squad is for?"
There was no reaction from the priest, but the two black-garbed
Mokharans, hitherto utterly silent, hissed sharply. The priest again gestured
for restraint, and they settled back into silence.
This has now officially
gotten out of hand, Erika thought. She swung her attention
back from the Mokharans, grasped McDonald firmly by the elbow, and
none-too-subtly guided her to the other side of the room.
"Doctor, you're deliberately
trying to provoke our guests. I've already told you Starfleet Command won't
have it."
Jane remained obstinate.
"I'm only trying to get some answers, Commander, by whatever
means are necessary. You saw what
those two pigs did to their son. In my mind, this line of questioning is
warranted, and I shall continue if in
my judgment it's necessary."
McDonald was now standing firmly on Erika's last nerve.
"You're dangerously close to insubordination… and spending a few days cooling your
heels relieved of duty, Doctor."
Neither woman was someone to be pushed.
"You do that, Commander, and Starfleet Medical will have you
up on charges faster than you can say, 'Interfering with the practice of
medicine on a starship.'"
"You're only the acting CMO… remember that, Doctor!
One word to the captain and…"
"Hey!"
Both glanced over, startled. Dr. Patrick Aiello, who'd quietly
remained in the background during the entire incident, had come up behind them.
"No fighting in front of the guests, the patients… or your colleagues."
Chastened, each woman gave the other a, "We'll settle this
later" glare, composed themselves, and turned back to the Mokharan priest.
Obviously their hearing
was better than human, because he said, "I see your concern is genuine, if
misplaced. Though infidels, your dedication is not without honour."
He stopped as if considering his next words, before saying,
"What I allow now is unprecedented. None before me would allow it and I
may suffer the consequences of my actions. You will all stay to witness the
future of the first son of Janeer and Aqru'un."
Movement behind them indicated the arrival of the parents, and it
was clear that both wanted to go straight to their son. Yet at the sight of
Genek they did not, and instead clasped their hands and bowed their heads. The
priest did likewise and addressed them, "Janeer and Aqru'un, I commend you
for your attempt to keep our ways hidden, but the time for that is no longer
with us. They will stay with when we determine if your son will live or remain
lost to you."
Neither parent said anything, though Erika was sure that she had
heard a sharp intake of breath from Aqru'un. When Genek stepped up to the foot
of the diagnostic bed, they stood on the other side from her, looking on with
what seemed to be genuine parental concern. The two black-garbed Mokharans made
their presence known more forcefully by hovering near the diagnostic bed, as
well.
The priest bowed slightly to Jane and said, "Please, Doctor.
Turn your patient over onto his front. It is necessary to observe his
back."
Nodding to Srv, Jane and her Bolian nurse carefully turned the boy
over onto his front, while Dr. Aiello looked on and made some entries into a
medical PADD.
It was obvious that the rash of dark mottling was most pronounced
there. While elsewhere it was noticeable just below the surface of his skin, it
darkened visibly as it neared his spine, becoming a pattern—like one long half
of a Rorschach inkblot.
It was these markings that were the focus of the attention for
Genek and his dark attendants. His parents, too, had looked down, before giving
their anxious attention to the priest. Long minutes passed before he looked up
at his attendants. They replied with a nod.
There was a soft moan from the mother.
Genek spoke softly, clearly. "Janeer and Aqru'un. The bearers
of the black have born witness. Your son has passed on from you and is dead to
all Mokhara. Hold him dear in your memories. All Mokhara mourns for your
loss."
Janeer took his silently sobbing wife in his arms, hiding the
sight of one attendant removing the blue blanket from their son—and replacing
it with a black one. The other took the boy's clothing and replaced it with a
black set, before passing the original back to Janeer.
Genek said, "Lieutenant Commander Benteen; please, may I
speak with you?" At her nod, he motioned her away from the others, then
said, "Janeer and Aqru'un have, today, suffered the loss of their son. It
would be a kindness if you would allow them to return home without pursuing
these criminal charges you mentioned, that there they might mourn with their
family."
Erika frowned. She didn't understand the nature of their taboos,
but it was obvious from Aqru'un's reaction that she was nearly hysterical over
the loss of her son; even if he didn't seem
lost to Benteen, he did to her, and
the woman was clearly broken-hearted over it. It had become obvious in the last
few moments that all, or at least many, Mokharans performed this ritual. It
might be appalling to Starfleet officers, but ultimately, it was none of their
damned business.
"One way or another, I'll arrange it." She couldn't see
dragging this through the courts.
"I understand also," Genek continued, "that the Pride of Coventry's captain suffered a
loss of face and an injured crewmember. I shall instruct our merchants to
favour him with beneficial trade upon his return to our Way to the Stars—that which you call Way Station 242. I hope that this will settle the matter."
"It's more than generous," she agreed. "What of the
boy?"
Genek shook his head slowly.
"As I told his parents, he is lost to them, and to Mokhara.
It is always sorrowful when such occurs. He is a bearer of the black now; my
attendants will see to his needs. When your doctor feels he is capable, he
should join us on our ship."
Without another word, he bowed and left, attendants in silent
train behind.
Benteen frowned.
I can't say I'm sorry to
see you go.
***
"I still don't
understand how they could do what they did to their own son. It's repugnant
and unconscionable."
Hatshepsut blinked, once, but for now didn't respond.
She knew Jane's professional sensibilities were being heavily
influenced by concern for, and about, her own daughter. Samantha McDonald was
dozens of light years away, under the care of her sister, Elisabeth; and there
was, practically speaking, little Jane could do from here. It would be a matter
of weeks or months before she'd be able to take the situation in hand when the
ship next visited Earth.
The Felisian knew her patient would have to make a decision about
her wayward daughter; but that would come after they'd dealt with the matters
at hand.
And it was a pair of serious matters: Commander Benteen had
approached the counselor near the tail end of today's crowded appointment
schedule, both delaying her next patient with the impromptu visit, and looking like she didn't particularly
care while so doing. She'd then succinctly, politely and firmly requested that Hatshepsut inform McDonald, in the context of
an immediate counseling session, that no matter what she'd gotten away with on Argus, her attitude wouldn't be
tolerated on Liberty.
"Shape up or ship
out," was the phrase I believe she used,
thought Hatshepsut amusedly.
Erika had also made it abundantly clear she was doing it this way
in deference both to McDonald's rank and her record of distinguished service to
Starfleet Medical Corps.
"But she's steaming straight for a battle she can't win if
she crosses me publicly in the future," Benteen had warned. "And I
don't even want to think of what will happen if she pulls her 'holier than
thou' crap with T'Laris or the captain again. Either, I have a feeling, will
make her very sorry."
And that wasn't all.
Just after that, Sera MacLeod had contacted her, and let it be
known that Jane had utilized her subspace link to Earth for a personal message
after having been specifically told by Subcommander T'Laris that permission to
do so was denied. The good-natured Sera had been, at first, mystified by
T'Laris' irritation when they'd spoken soon afterward, but eventually the chain
of events had been revealed.
"Please inform her
that, since it involved her daughter, I 'took the heat' for her on this
occasion," the
good-natured Vulcan had told her, in a most atypically cool tone, "but that I do not appreciate being ill-used."
Thus, here Hatshepsut was—still in her office three hours after
her shift had been scheduled to end—with a tired, cranky Dr. McDonald. While
she begrudged none the time it took to counsel them, it was obvious Jane didn't
want to be counseled.
Nevertheless, she tried.
"Every species has reasons for why it does something,"
she said. "Of course, some go to great lengths to hide both their actions and their rationale.
"At least the boy isn't actually
dead."
"I know," Jane replied bitterly. "Just abandoned by
his parents."
"Speaking of parents, have you given any thought to your own
problem?"
"Not much." She gave the Felisian a wary glare and
continued, "You're being rather tenacious about it."
Again Hatshepsut blinked, before replying with a purred, "I
don't feel the need to coax you, particularly." As is often necessary with the rest of your chattering arboreal kin.
Certain hairless monkeys could be so tedious. Despite her competence, Jane McDonald wasn't exactly
someone with whom M'Raav would prefer to spend time.
Duty, however, usually didn't allow such luxuries of choice: Case
in point.
McDonald looked unhappy, but Hatshepsut knew the doctor was well
aware she was one of only two people assigned to Liberty who could, figuratively speaking, force her to discuss her
situation.
Fortunately, it didn't become acrimonious.
"All right, Hatshepsut; I have
given it some thought, and I have
come to a decision as to what I'm going to do, both about Samantha and my
position here."
The Felisian nodded, and McDonald continued.
"Right now, my daughter needs me. And I need to be with her,
as well. When we get back to Earth, I'm going to request extended leave—a few
months, at least—and spend it there."
Hatshepsut's pupils widened, and she purred, "Request
granted. I'm empowered to act for the captain in such matters; and, besides, he
instructed me to grant you indefinite leave the moment you asked for it."
McDonald grunted; and the counselor, chiding herself, belatedly
realized she'd made a mistake: The doctor thought the captain's action was
motivated by an eagerness to be rid of her, while Hatshepsut knew it was actually
his genuine concern for a troubled officer.
She'd never convince her
patient of that, though: The woman disliked Mantovanni intensely, and that
probably wasn't going to change.
"I'm going to ask him
if I can have her aboard the Liberty with
me. I think she needs to be away from Mars and Earth."
Hatshepsut's tail twitched, and she considered that soberly.
"I'm not certain how he'll respond."
McDonald smiled, without humour.
"I'm sure you're not.
"As to my career… I won't
stay here without Samantha. I still want to be in Starfleet, but I'm not sure
that I want to be Liberty's CMO
anyway—acting or otherwise. I may demand a transfer, whether he likes it or
not…
"It's all a matter of priorities."
"Let's not obfuscate things, Doctor," Hatshepsut
countered. "What you mean is that you're not sure you want to be Captain Mantovanni's CMO… isn't that
right?"
Jane McDonald, surprisingly, grinned.
"I thought that
went without saying."