Fic: "The Needs of the Few" (11/23)
Title: "The Needs of the Few"
Canon characters/Pairing(s): Kirk & McCoy, Pike, Finney
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 7,995 for Chapter 11
Warnings: Foul language, political situations, military stuff.
Summary: As cadets on a summer internship, Kirk and McCoy are supposed to keep their eyes open and their mouths shut. As far as Bones is concerned, that’s just plain wrong on Jim Kirk, but Jim seems determined to follow orders and fall in line for a change. After all, they’ve both seen enough trouble in two years at the Academy, and this is the Peace Mission of Axanar. However, when a mystery starts to weave itself around the mission, and the senior officers don’t seem interested in investigating, how far can Kirk and McCoy let it go?
Notes: Still working on catching up. I’ve got some beta work I need to do on later chapters (nit-picky stuff), but this is ready for human consumption. I hope you like it!
Previous chapters: One, Two, Three, Four(A), Four(B), Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten
Chapter 11
At least the weather was nice.
While the negotiations of the Axanar/Araxian portion of the Axanar Peace Treaty were being hashed out in the Parliament building across the terrace, Jim was standing guard. Outside. Where he couldn’t see or hear a damned thing going on inside.
Yeah, this was why he was never, never going to join the Security branch of Starfleet.
At least it wasn’t raining or snowing. Also, his assignment was giving him a chance to observe.
The terrace seemed to serve as a city square to the community. The eerie lack of activity when they’d first arrived yesterday had transformed into the bustle of a town center. People passed through, sometimes stopping and chatting, sometimes sitting on one of the benches for a while, and sometimes hurrying on to their destinations. Even so, it wasn’t as busy as Jim had anticipated. Given the size of the city, it seemed really subdued. Jim had expected more foot traffic, more noise, more activity. It could be cultural. Jim wasn’t so sure.
Besides, security was thick as a pot of Andorian porridge around the entire Parliament Square and city center. Who’d want to go shopping with a squad of armed Starfleet security officers watching your every movement?
The amount of security had been the only truly interesting twist of the day so far. He’d beamed down with the team before sunrise, and had become a security operative for the day. And the security on this mission was crazy. Apparently, the Araxians had demanded it, which didn’t make sense, as the only people around were Araxians themselves plus the delegates. It was supposed to be a peaceful colony. Why did they need to pack the place with security like this?
On one hand, they were Axanar by heritage, with only a couple hundred years separation, which meant there would be significant physiological and cultural similarities. However, according to their history, they were also independent and confident people. It seemed that their legacy of leaving the Axanar and striking out on their own as isolationists should have given them a boldness that their parent race lacked. It made no sense for the Araxians to request so much... protection.
Maybe, with the breakdown in their cloak of isolation, their instinctive need for protection had returned. At least, that was the only explanation Jim could come up with for weaving so much security through a nearly crime-free society. It seemed like a pretty flimsy explanation, though.
So he was standing outside, at the northwest corner of the terrace outside the Parliament building, watching the world go by.
The shops and offices along the main terrace were open and modestly busy. Down the two streets that met at the terrace corner, a few pedestrians made their way. Small vehicles - some enclosed with two seats, and others a bit like motorized tricycles for single passengers - buzzed up and down the streets. Vendor carts with craftsman wares and local produce periodically changed locations, hunting for the best spots for business.
Jim watched it all. He’d been reminded to keep his eyes open. Notice everything. So that’s what he was doing. So far, he’d created a small list of observations.
First, the Araxians wore a different style of clothing than the Axanar. The formal robes he’d seen in the diplomatic proceedings had been similar to the clothes worn by their parent race, with only slight modification in design, although the Araxians seemed to prefer brighter colors. However, the daily attire was quite different, and if Jim had to pick a word, he’d say it was far more practical. Even the waitstaff at the Araxian reception had been dressed in the shortened tunics with leggings, rather than the longer robes worn by... well... every Axanar Jim had seen, including the ones in recorded holos. The tunics with leggings, with some variation in style and color, seemed to be the preferred attire for almost all of the Araxians Jim had seen around Parliament Square. As colonists, practicality made sense. Still... an observation nonetheless.
Second, the Araxians seemed more egalitarian. While he’d been told that the subservience protocols he’d witness on Axanar were standard for all of their society, that just hadn’t been the case here. He’d watched the Araxians in the Square greet each other without any obvious dynamic of superiority or subservience. If he’d been pressed, Jim would have had to admit that it made him a lot more comfortable than what he’d experienced on Axanar. It seemed like a stark contrast to the skittish subservience he’d seen in the waiter at the welcoming reception, but that could be explained by the formality of the reception.
And finally... they looked different. It was subtle, but now that he’d seen enough of them, he was sure that it wasn’t just the case with a small handful of the population. Most of the Araxians had a different hue to their skin. It wasn’t blatantly different, but it was noticeable. Not all of them, no... but quite a few. Most. Maybe it was just one of their natural variations, but he didn’t remember seeing anyone who looked different on Axanar. He didn’t know much about genetics, and he wasn’t quite sure what it meant, but he mentally noted it. Maybe he’d mention it to Bones.
Beyond that, he’d mostly been bored. So much for adventure and excitement on new planets. He’d had far more excitement back on Earth. He stared at the main door to the Parliament building, wishing he could trade out with Wilcox for an hour so he could see what was happening inside. Although, if his estimates were good, the talks would be breaking soon for a mid-day meal and rest period. In fact, the doors were opening, and delegates and support staff began exiting the building in a leisurely manner.
Lunch break, Jim thought. He straightened his posture just a bit, continuing to watch. Some of the delegates crossed the terrace, nodding at him as they passed, and moved off down the street, likely to a restaurant, Jim guessed. Some sat on benches around the square, pulling out small computer devices or packets of whatever passed for food on their world. Jim felt his appetite wane as he watched the Kazarite delegate pull a small pellet out of a pouch around his neck and drop it into a cup of liquid. The cup fizzled and bubbled, and the Kazarite proceeded to spoon up a grayish glop from the cup, appearing to enjoy the food thoroughly. Jim saw the Vulcan Ambassador, T’Val, having what appeared to be an intense conversation with Captain Porter. And...
“You are one of the Starfleet Cadets, yes?” It was an odd accent, a combination of guttural edge and sibilant hiss.
Jim spun around, irritated at having been approached unawares as he’d been watching the delegates and dignitaries strolling around the terrace. He was met by the view of a species he had never encountered at close quarters before: a Zhitoran. Often, Kirk had been able to associate the physical appearance of sentient beings with various non-sentient creatures he’d seen on Earth, whether native or not. This time, he was having no such luck. All he could say was that this person was about two meters tall, with skin that seemed both blue and orange, and generally scaly with an odd tuft of fur or hair fringing his scalp. Jim quickly reminded himself that he probably looked just as peculiar to the Zhitoran. Composing himself, he finally said, “Yes, sir,” despite being unsure if this individual was male or female. “Cadet Kirk, currently interning aboard the USS Athena.”
At that, the Zhitoran made a sound that had to be a laugh. “It would seem that you are not currently aboard the USS Athena, are you Cadet Kirk?”
Just what Jim needed - a weird alien with a witty sense of humor. Bones would love this guy. “Well met, sir,” he said, conceding graciously, then cocked his head. “I saw you at the welcoming reception. Ambassador...?”
“So, you are not as unobservant as it would appear.” He sounded pleased. “I am Ambassador...” His speech dissolved into an unintelligible string of consonants and chirps. At what Jim must have guessed was the gobsmacked look on his face, the Ambassador offered what appeared to be a smile and said, “But you may call me Kerz.”
“I appreciate that, Ambassador Kerz,” Jim said vaguely, wondering if even the legendary Talented-Tongue Uhura could master the Zhitoran language. Or, for that matter, even get the guy’s name right.
“I’ve yet to meet a mammalian humanoid who can pronounce words from our language. Although, a human once introduced me to a non-sentient Terran creature who repeated my name beautifully. I believe they called it a ‘parrot.’”
Jim couldn’t quite hold back a chuckle. “Yes, sir.” At the same time as he was laughing, he was really starting to wonder why this random ambassador was striking up a conversation with him. “I’m wondering... because I haven’t been inside the Parliament building today... how are the talks going?” Jim asked.
Kerz waved a casual hand. Paw. Claw. Whatever it was. “Talks are talks, young cadet. Everyone talks. Far more is said in what people do.” He leaned in a few centimeters. “I am right, yes?”
Okay, that was more interesting. “Yes, sir.”
“I heard you and the Tellarite Ambassador discussing Zhitoran government involvement in the... history we have with the Axanar.” Before Jim could get excited about inside information to win the debate, Kerz held up his hand, talons splayed. “You have the official statement from the Zhitoran government to the Peace Summit. It is my word as well. But...” His eyes crinkled oddly, and Jim would have called it mischievous. “What do you know of the Araxians?”
“Just what’s in the official briefings,” Jim said, trying to hide his hesitation. That was an unexpected segue, and he had no idea where Kerz was going with this line of discussion.
“The Araxians... noble beings, I say. Strong. Independent. Forging out against all odds, from a root society built on timid cowering and willing slavery in trade for protection. They have been glorious, not only in what they say, Cadet Kirk, but what they do! Marvelous!” He clasped his hands together in apparent delight.
A small part of Jim’s brain was wondering how Kerz didn’t impale himself with his own talons. The rest of his brain was thoroughly focused on the more subtle half of what Kerz had just said. “Forming a new colony takes a lot of bravery,” Jim said, being cautious. “But... about the Axanar... what do you mean, slavery?” But even as he said it, he knew there was no denying it. The Axanar lived in a system of slavery, willing though it was.
On any species, conspiratorial always looked the same. Kerz leaned in closer again. “You’ve seen it yourself, young cadet! Peculiar behavior. But, as your philosophers say, infinite diversity in infinite combinations, yes? And we Zhitorans have acknowledged that peace with all includes the acceptance of... lower behaviors.”
While Jim didn’t like to think of cultural traits as “lower behaviors,” he couldn’t help but agree with this one. The way the Axanar played their games of master-and-slave, servitude to the powerful, and groveling humility... it didn’t sit right with him. Still... Keep it diplomatic, Kirk. “I’ve learned about a lot of traditions and customs since joining Starfleet. They may be foreign or odd to me, but I’ve tried to keep an open mind.”
“Open minds are good. Open eyes are better!” He leaned slightly back now, appraising Jim. “I liked your debate with the Tellarite. You are... observant. A respectable Zhitoran trait. So I would ask you... if your debate stance was correct -”
“I wasn’t arguing that because I believed it, sir,” Jim hurriedly explained. “I’m sorry if anything we said was offensive. I was just debating -”
“If you were correct,” Kerz said again, speaking right over him, “then why would our poachers not have pursued the Araxians after they left Axanar?”
“Because you...” Jim caught himself. Records had been verified that the Zhitorans knew about the colony of Araxis for almost 150 years. Not the entire history of the colony, but a lot of it. “I don’t know,” he finally admitted.
“History is an odd thing. Never so simple, is it? Always more than one story. So... would a young, fragile colony have been an easier target for... poachers?”
“It should be.” Somehow, Jim was sure he was skating on thin ice, but he had no idea how to back out of this.
“It should be, yes,” Kerz said, bobbing his head in his species’ equivalent of a shrug. “Now, I am curious... Terrans are meat-eaters, yes?”
Jim had never met a Zhitoran before. All he knew, right now, was that it was the first time a conversation with a new species had left him mentally dizzy, and he could only hope he wasn’t about to stumble into something he couldn’t get out of. “Uh... yes. I mean, we eat meat as well as plants. At least, a lot of us do. Not everyone, though.”
“So the flesh of other creatures is not forbidden... but you do not hunt sentient beings.”
“Of course not!” Jim blurted out, and he knew that any chance he had at appearing dignified and diplomatic was gone. It was all he could do to keep up with what Kerz was saying. “Sentient beings are considered sovereign individuals with rights under Federation law. We’d never hunt sentient beings.”
A victorious light glinted in Kerz’s eye. “And neither do Zhitorans. Any Zhitorans. We find it reprehensible.”
Okay, now Jim was really confused. “But... what about the poachers...?” And suddenly, the logic problem clicked. “You’re saying that you didn’t consider the Axanar sentient?”
“A matter of definition,” Kerz said solemnly.
“But you considered the Araxians sentient.”
“Yes.”
“But they’re the same species!” Jim all but blurted before he reined himself back in.
“Are they?” Kerz almost seemed amused by this.
Jim looked once around the square, glancing at the various Araxians walking about on their daily business. With only the tiniest differences, of course they were the same species. “That would be like saying that humans on colony planets are a separate species from humans on Earth. Besides, you consider both of them to be sentient now, right? If you’re negotiating with them?” Jim was trying to keep a calm expression while his mind scrambled to fit together how the Zhitorans could see only one of the same-yet-different races as being sentient.
“A matter of definition,” Kerz repeated, with slightly different emphasis.
Jim had no idea what that was supposed to mean. “But they don’t seem so different.”
“Really now? Ah, you are correct. They seem quite... similar. And ask yourself then... why is that so?”
“I...” Jim’s mind was reeling. He needed to process this. This whole conversation was sending him for a loop. A paradigm had shifted in his brain, but his conscious thoughts hadn’t caught up with it. He felt stupid and slow. Of course, his scant three hours of interrupted sleep wasn’t helping much. “If we’re following the logic puzzle, then that means one of them has changed... after they became two separate groups. After you decided that the Araxians were sentient.”
“Very good, Cadet. But... a mystery! Who?”
Jim frowned. “Zhitorans regard both species as sentient now. So if the Araxians were considered sentient first, then it would seem that the Axanar had changed something to be more like the Araxians.” Even as he said it, he knew it didn’t make sense. The Axanar had an ancient and established culture and society. From the records, their basic social structure hadn’t changed in almost two millennia, much less two centuries. But then, how else could the societies seem so similar now, and have the Zhitorans consider them both sentient?
Kerz gave him a look that, despite having no physical traits in common, made him think of Bones raising a skeptical eyebrow. “Perhaps. Or... has the definition changed?”
“How can... why... wait. What was the old definition?”
“We have a saying amongst Zhitorans. ‘Until the young leaves the nest, he has no life to claim for himself.’ The saying is, of course, more poetic in the original tongue.”
Jim couldn’t care less about poetic prose just then. “The Araxians left the nest,” he said, suddenly feeling cold despite the warm day.
Kerz gave a slow nod of approval. “As one of your Terran philosophers has also said: he who gives up freedom for security... deserves neither.”
“Do you...” Jim swallowed past a suddenly dry throat. “Do you read a lot of Terran philosophy?”
Suddenly, Kerz looked back over his shoulder. “Ah, the chronometer! Time is limited if I want food before the next session.” He looked back at Jim. “An enjoyable meeting, Cadet Kirk.”
“Thank you, Ambassador Kerz,” Jim said, touching two fingers to his forehead in the manner of greeting and farewell he’d learned for the Zhitorans.
Kerz quickly touched two talons to his own forehead. “May your path be vast and reaching.”
“May you journey far,” Jim replied vaguely, dropping his hand back to his side before the Ambassador turned and hurried off. His footsteps were smooth, and considering how unhurried he appeared, he moved quite quickly. Jim continued to watch Kerz until he’d crossed the terrace and disappeared down one of the many streets leading from the square.
For a long moment, Jim stared at the spot where Kerz had turned the corner, feeling dumbfounded, and not really caring that he wasn’t visually scanning the area for potential security risks. Finally, he shook his head to himself and let out a low whistle.
“Damn.”
*********
It wasn’t a damned thing like Earth, but hell, it wasn’t so bad.
At least, Leonard didn’t think the planet itself was so bad. In fact, it was a really nice day. Warm sun, cool breeze, a few light clouds, and just enough humidity in the air for it to feel almost soft on his face. Yeah, the planet was great. The transporter trip had been another matter, but at least it was over. A short-acting dose of anti-anxiety meds kept him from throwing up this time. He’d get used to it eventually, he was sure, but for now, he just needed to survive this mission.
He’d come down with a group of science officers who’d been invited to visit the city’s engineering facility and sciences research center. They were standing in a courtyard just inside the main gate of an impressive-looking campus, surrounded by large research buildings and open areas between them. Plant life, sculptures, and pathways wove the scenery. It was impressive, really, for such a young colony to have so many well-established facilities. And naturally, the locals would want to show it off to the visiting Federation entourage.
Leonard didn’t know what any of that had to do with him, but all cadets were required to visit the planet at least once (and he hoped it would be just once), so he might as well get this over and done with. He’d brought his own tricorder and medical kit, even though he was assured he wouldn’t need them.
You wanted a doctor, he’d said, so I’m coming down as a damned doctor.
Not that he was going to do anything remotely useful today.
Leonard stared blankly at Lieutenant Commander Harris’s blond ponytail as she handled the formal introductions, but his mind drifted. Maybe there would be some biomedical research going on in the biosciences lab instead of just the botanical and microbial studies that two of the officers in his group had been babbling about for the last hour. Or maybe the microbial studies would include local pathogens, and he could catalogue and document their research. Or...
“And this would be Doctor McCoy,” Commander Harris was saying to the Araxian representative. “He’s the only cadet with us, but a fully qualified doctor who has already been working as a member of our crew.”
“Doctor McCoy, a pleasure and an honor,” the Araxian, a being named Ghren, said with a broad gesture of welcome.
Pasting on a well-trained smile - a combination of Starfleet protocol and Southern manners - Leonard gave a slight bow and introduced himself. “A pleasure to meet you, sir. I’m looking forward to seeing your science facilities.”
At that, Ghren frowned slightly. “I apologize, Doctor. I did not realize you would wish to see the science facilities.”
Leonard frowned, too, seriously confused. “Isn’t that what I’m here to do?”
Ghren looked at Commander Harris before addressing Leonard again. “I had been informed that a doctor... one of your world’s medics... would be amongst your group. If that is you, then I had assumed you would wish to see our medical facilities.” He swept a hand towards one of the other Araxians. “One of our best medics - the professional equivalent of what you would call a doctor - has come to meet you and to escort you through our primary medical center. Medic Jethan?”
The other Araxian, a slightly shorter being, wearing a tunic with a different design than the others, stepped forward. “Doctor McCoy, if you would prefer to see our research facilities, then you’d be welcomed to do so, but I would greatly enjoy showing a Federation doctor what we’ve built here.”
“I’d love to see your medical facilities,” Leonard said in a rush. “I... uh, sorry. I hadn’t realized it was an option. I thought I was going to be shadowing everyone else.” He turned and looked at Commander Harris, hoping he wasn’t crossing lines or being rude. “Sir, if it’s acceptable, I’d really like to see what Araxians have for a medical system here so I can report back to Doctor Brex.”
Commander Harris gave him an amused smile. “I think that’s an excellent idea, Doctor McCoy. We’ll be on the surface until 1600 hours ship’s time, so you’ve got almost eight hours. As long as your escort can get you back here no later than 1550 hours, I can approve the change of plans.” She turned to look to the Araxian medic.
Jethan nodded. “I can ensure Doctor McCoy’s timely return. The medical facility isn’t far from here. Just a brief walk.”
A moment later, Leonard was following Jethan out through the campus gates, and he felt positively giddy. Here he was, on a new planet, about to compare medical notes with a brand new civilization. Sure, the Araxians were essentially the same as the Axanar biologically, but he hadn’t had the chance to see an Axanar medical facility. Plus, the Araxian medical technology had been developing separately for two hundred years. Anything could be different. Hell, maybe this whole space exploration thing really could turn out to be something he’d enjoy.
“How much of the surface have you seen, Doctor?” Jethan asked as they turned onto the walkway outside the research building.
“Only as much as you’ve shown me,” Leonard replied easily as he took a good look around. The buildings along the street were sturdy-looking structures with an elegant simplicity. Bright colors, clean lines, big windows. The walkways were wide on either side of the street, and plants that resembled tree-sized houseplants dotted the scene. “So far, so good. Seems like a nice place.”
“Ah, so you haven’t been down here with the others yet?”
“No.” Leonard couldn’t hold back the slight grimace on his face. “We had a situation up on the ship that had me awake through my sleep cycle, and I was too tired to come on the first landing party, so they took me off duty.”
“A situation? Medical?”
“Yes, but a good one. One of our patients made a significant recovery. It was a... uh... difficult case. I didn’t get any sleep, but he’s doing better.”
Jethan smiled, and Leonard wondered if the healers, doctors, and medics from all species just had some sort of inherent goodness that crossed the lines between species in a way words didn’t. “Good news, then,” he said happily.
“Really good news,” Leonard agreed. He was already starting to like this guy.
“So,” Jethan said conversationally, “seeing as you haven’t been down here, welcome to the center of Araxis. We’re only a few blocks away from the Parliament building. That’s where the all the... talks are happening.” There was an odd hesitation in his voice, but he kept on. “When the city was founded, we planned carefully. We wanted to focus on accessibility of all vital functions for everyone. Parliament was the starting point, but also our advanced schools, research, recreation, and primary medical facility were placed within the central zone. While we eventually built smaller clinics and novice schools in the outskirt towns and more distant settlements that developed over time, our specialized centers are here. Accessible to all, open to all. At least, that’s what I wanted.”
Leonard was taking it all in as much as he could, but something had caught his attention. “Doctor... uh, Medic Jethan... what do you mean, ‘we?’ And ‘I?’ Wasn’t that 200 years ago?”
The man let out a hearty laugh... something he’d not heard once from an Axanar. “McCoy, I am two-hundred-and-fifty-eight years old... in our years, that is. Which would make me 317 in your Terran years.”
“Oh.” It was all Leonard could think to say, given that he’d just been informed that his host was over ten times his age. “So... you were here when Araxis was founded?”
“Oh yes.” His smile became fond. “It’s amazing how much we’ve grown here. 8,739 colonists originally. Although reproduction was more restrained on Axanar, we intended to populate and establish ourselves here, so reproduction became a highly encouraged priority.”
Leonard couldn’t quite hide his own grin. “How many now?”
Jethan’s smile grew even wider. “120,731, as of yesterday morning. I have produced twenty-seven children myself, almost all of whom have had children.”
Leonard let out a low whistle.
“Well, I did have two hundred years in which to do it, Doctor. We reach reproductive maturity in twenty-five years, and... children are precious to us. I hope we have given them the best possible life in the time we’ve had.”
Another curious comment, Leonard noted, but he said nothing.
Jethan shook his head to himself and sighed softly. “We were an idealistic bunch. I was one of the first medics to join in the movement to defect. It was hard to find other medics who agreed, which I couldn’t understand for the longest time. We were taught to heal all, and to serve all. I thought it was a position of service, and honorable for that reason. To relieve suffering - what could be more noble? Right, Doctor?”
“I’d be inclined to agree,” Leonard said. “Obviously.”
Jethan nodded, and his mouth twisted into a grimace. “In retrospect, I was naive, but I finally figured it out. Axanar Healers were addicted to the power and benefits of the position. They did their duties for the servitude of their patients, not out of compassion.” Then he stopped, quickly looked around, and let his shoulders slump. “I should not speak ill of the Axanar...”
“Medic Jethan,” Leonard said in an undertone. “I probably shouldn’t say this myself, but when I was on Axanar... I saw what you’re talking about. Didn’t seem right to me, but I figured... different strokes for different folks, and all that.”
“Different folks,” Jethan echoed softly. “Yes.” Then his face brightened. “To continue your introduction... we were proud of the fact that our facilities were available to all without condition. There was no system of protection and subservience here. All were taught to be strong. All were taught to be wise. Courage was seen as a virtue for all, not some. And medics served the noble art of healing for the sake of healing, not for indebting their patients’ servitude. It was... it was beautiful, Doctor McCoy.”
Despite the warm sun and bright day, something on Jethan’s face had darkened, and Leonard stared at him, trying to put the pieces together as they walked. At first, he’d assumed that the lack of Axanar-style groveling in the scientists who had greeted him was due to their lofty status as the colony’s premiere researchers. Now, he wondered if this was just Araxian culture. If it was, the change was incredible. Sure, he wasn’t supposed to judge one culture against another, but his human preferences certainly swayed towards the Araxians, if this is what it seemed to be.
Finally, he replied, “It certainly is a beautiful thing, Medic Jethan. But... what do you mean... it was?”
“Times change,” Jethan said sadly. “Perhaps the Axanar way is a destiny we can’t escape, and our experiment was never meant to last.”
Leonard frowned. “Wait... you mean things are going back to the way they were on Axanar?”
Jethan looked at him, expression plaintive. “McCoy, when two opposite forces come together... something must inevitably yield. It is politics, Terran.”
Leonard felt his frown deepen to a scowl. “Well... I don’t know much about all that diplomatic stuff, but I’m pretty darn sure that the Federation would have no reason to stifle your way of life. That’s not how it works. We’ve got dozens of planets who have joined, and we’re all different. Ever compared a Vulcan to a Tellarite?”
“I can’t say I have, and I do not doubt you. But McCoy, we are not joining the Federation independently. We are rejoining the Axanar.” His voice was so carefully neutral that it sounded forced. He was looking straight forward as he walked, eyes on the sidewalk before him.
“You don’t approve.” Leonard was certain of that.
“It isn’t my place to approve or not. I am a medic, which gives me some privilege... but not everything.” Then his gaze shifted. “Look ahead. You can see the Parliament building down the street.”
Leonard half-expected another ornate palace-like building, resembling the one he’d seen on Axanar. Instead, the large building he saw, framed by the buildings at the end of the street, was a tribute to simple elegance. Built low for a building of its width, with an open design. Lots of doors and windows at street level.
“A shrine to democracy,” Jethan said, his tone wistful. He sounded as though he was speaking of something that was no longer there. But a second later, his face brightened. “And this is a shrine to the care-taking of patients and the preservation of health!” he exclaimed, turning into a broad doorway. “Welcome to the Primary Medical Clinic of Araxis.”
Leonard cast one last glance down the street at the Parliament building before following Jethan into the clinic.
*********
A few hours later, Leonard had learned two new dermal regeneration techniques, used a blood chemistry analyzer unlike anything he’d ever seen, and taken a peek at the Araxians’ vast library of medical research. Two hundred years of research? It was incredibly impressive, especially for such a small colony. These people evidently had a strong dedication to the pursuit of knowledge. Admirable.
He’d also met a bunch of the other Araxian medical personnel, and had discovered that he really, really liked the Araxians. Nice folks. Good doctors. None of that over-the-top subservience he’d witnessed on Axanar. At least, not in the medical facility.
At the same time, he had noticed an odd undercurrent of tension whenever the Federation or the Peace Summit was mentioned. Leonard had figured it would be at the forefront of everyone’s thoughts, but it seemed like the Araxians here were doing their best to pretend it wasn’t happening.
There was also something surprising he’d discovered with the first patient he’d been allowed to examine. It was a routine physical, and the patient had volunteered to let the alien “doctor” take a peek. Leonard had examined the Axanar delegates on the Athena, and he still had the parameters from his scans programmed into his tricorder. He didn’t really expect anything different, but something caught his attention. Frowning, he reset his tricorder and scanned again.
“He doesn’t have the enzyme pathway to metabolize methane,” Leonard said, staring at his tricorder, then quickly cross-checking it to the Araxian scanner.
Jethan laughed at him. “Why should he? We have no methane in our atmosphere!”
“I know,” Leonard said, recalling that he’d found it odd that a species capable of methane metabolism would choose a planet with none of that gas in the atmosphere. “But most species don’t lose genetic traits so quickly. Just because you don’t need a gene doesn’t make it disappear. Humans still have vestigial organs from before recorded history. I would have guessed that you’d still have the genes and enzymes for methane metabolism, even if you’re not using them.” He looked at the readout on his tricorder, shook his head to himself, then addressed the patient directly. “Were you born here?”
“Yes,” he said proudly. “Second generation, native Araxian. I’m one-hundred-forty-three years old. I’ve produced ten strong children.”
“Congratulations,” Leonard said offhandedly. “But this loss of the methane-metabolizing pathway... is this an unusual mutation?” Leonard asked, looking back and forth between Jethan and the patient.
“Unusual? Oh no, not at all. And it’s an intentional one,” Jethan said happily. “Axanar have both sets of respiratory pathways - oxygen/glucose and oxygen/methane. They rely on the methane for bursts of energy, but it can’t sustain metabolism indefinitely. Oxygen/glucose metabolism can, but only if it is uninterrupted by methane metabolism. We selected this planet for its oxygen-nitrogen atmosphere because we wanted to truly isolate ourselves. You see... several of our best founding medics were geneticists. We realized that in order to make ourselves stronger in this atmosphere, we needed to redesign our biochemistry to work without methane. It would be a planet ill-suited to the Axanar, but perfectly suited to our own progeny.”
Leonard stared at him, stunned. This wasn’t in the briefing. In fact, Leonard was pretty damned sure he was the first Federation representative to hear about this. “You genetically modified your entire species?”
Jethan beamed. “We did. And our children are stronger for it. The founders and our earliest children didn’t have the genetic change, but the rest of us do.” He held his hand out next to the patient’s hand. “The mutation caused a slight change in skin color, as you can see. But aside from that, the only functional difference is their ability to maintain a steady metabolism without methane or the medication we founders must consume.”
Leonard blinked, then looked back at the patient. “What do you think of this? Having had your genetic code artificially programmed?” he asked, not caring if he was stepping over lines. The idea of mass genetic manipulation had been set aside by humans after Augments and World War III. To hear that a whole planet had done it was mind-blowing.
But the patient just grinned. “What would you think of it? It’s wonderful! They helped us adapt to our new home. It doesn’t change who we are, other than the simple fact that we’re Araxians, not Axanar. Besides, isn’t that what parents should do for their offspring? Give them every possible tool to be successful?”
“Yes, Reehn,” Jethan said. “That’s exactly what we wanted. And look at us! The Araxian people are strong and thriving. And... so are you.” He reached over and tapped the scanner, which powered down. “You’re all set for today. Healthy as a zheelath, but try to engage in a bit more sporting activity. It would be good for your vascular fitness.”
“Thank you, medic,” the patient said, hopping down off the bed, then looking at Leonard. “Did you have any other curiosities, medic... I mean, doctor?”
Leonard shrugged. “No, but thank you for the... insights. It was really interesting.”
Reehn waved and walked out of the exam room.
Leonard’s mind was reeling. “Is that the only genetic modification you folks made?” he asked, staring at the wall, not daring to look at Jethan.
“Yes. It did, however, have another beneficial effect.”
“Oh?”
“The methane-metabolizing pathway includes the triglobulin compound, which was used for methane transport in the bloodstream.” His expression turned sly. “With this mutation, the Araxian people would never be a target for poachers.”
Leonard nodded slowly. It made sense, even if the methods made his skin crawl a bit. “And that’s it? No other genetic changes?”
“It was the only modification of gene expression, yes.”
Leonard had taken too many genetics courses to fall for that. “What about chromosomal structure?”
Jethan said nothing for a moment, and the silence was broken only by the sounds of equipment being wiped down and put away. Finally, he said, “We merged two chromosomes into a single chromosome.”
Really? Leonard thought to himself. Aloud, he said, “Your species is androgynous, but you reproduce by genetic exchange, right?”
“Correct.”
Leonard shook his head in awe. The entire planet had genetically isolated themselves. On purpose. With a completely different chromosomal structure, they weren’t Axanar anymore. They were a completely new species. It was mind-blowing.
Leonard slowly sat down on a low bench against the wall. “You really wanted nothing to do with the Axanar anymore, did you?”
A second later, Jethan joined him. “No, we didn’t.”
“Who knows about the chromosome change?” He looked sideways.
“Only our top medics, and... our previous Prime Ministers.” Jethan hesitated, then said, “And now... you.”
Leonard took a slow breath. “Why did you tell me?”
“Perhaps... it is because this is who the Araxian people are... and I would like someone to know. You are a medic who cares for people, and... I felt that I should tell you.” Jethan’s shoulders drooped slightly. “I presume you’re obligated to report this finding to your superiors.”
Leonard didn’t know what to say. Sure, he supposed he was supposed to report this, but for some reason, he didn’t want to. He liked the Araxians. He didn’t like the Axanar. And dammit, would this really matter to Starfleet? Of course it would matter, you idiot, he thought furiously at himself. This sort of information could turn the whole situation on its head. However, Leonard only shrugged. “I... I don’t know. I’m a technically just a cadet. This is a bit out of my league. But... wait.” He frowned. “Previous Prime Ministers? What about the current one?”
Jethan looked mildly annoyed. “I’m a medic, not a politician.”
Leonard raised an eyebrow.
Jethan sighed. “There are certain things beyond my scope. My duty is to the well-being of the Araxian people. First and always.”
Leonard nodded uneasily. He liked Jethan. Really, he did. However, with all the bizarre things happening, he couldn’t ignore this discovery. He wondered what it meant. He wondered what was different about the current Prime Minister. And he wondered... “If you didn’t want anything to do with the Axanar when you left... what’s changed?”
Jethan looked back at him for a moment, expression unreadable, before leaning his hands heavily on his knees and standing. “I believe we are already well past-due for the second meal. Does your species eat four meals per day?”
“Usually three,” Leonard said as he stood. “Although our adolescents seem to eat constantly.”
“Then as you would be an adolescent by our lifespan, it must be time for you to eat,” he replied cheerily. “Come along. There are many excellent food vendors in this area, and our basic nutritional needs are compatible. It would be my pleasure to show you our local cuisine.”
Leonard followed Jethan out of the clinic building, half-listening as the Araxian medic regaled him with tid-bits of Araxian history and local culture as he pointed out buildings and landmarks. They’d built a lot in two-hundred years. They were approaching Parliament Square, the location of Jethan’s restaurant of choice, when Leonard saw a familiar figure.
There was Jim, having what looked like an intense conversation with a person whose species Leonard didn’t recognize. The unidentified alien said something, and with an apparently cordial gesture, quickly took off across the terrace. Jim stood and stared at him, still as a statue.
“Hey, hold on a minute,” Leonard said to Jethan. “That’s one of my friends over there. Can I have a moment to go say hi?”
“Yes. We have time. I’ll wait here.”
Grateful that Jethan wasn’t coming with him, Leonard hurried over to Jim. To his surprise, Jim didn’t even seem to notice him approach. Feeling that payback was always fair, Leonard clapped Jim firmly on the shoulder. “Nice security work, hot-shot.”
Jim, to his amusement, startled so hard he actually squeaked as he spun around. “Shit, Bones! Are you trying to kill me?”
“Nah, kid... just keeping you on your toes.”
Jim gave a shaky laugh. “Yeah. Right. So what are you doing down here?”
“Vacationing in a tropical paradise, what’s it look like I’m doing?” He gave Jim a pointed look. “Who was that you were just talking to?”
“Who, huh? Oh, that was the Zhitoran ambassador. He... uh... had some interesting things to say about the Araxians.” Jim looked flustered, which was just wrong. Jim never looked flustered. Not like this. Then his eyes focused more clearly on Leonard’s face. “So where have you been? I’m glad you finally made it to the surface, but I figured you’d come down with the other cadets. Which party are you with?”
Leonard shook his head. “Group of science officers. They wanted to send a doctor as a representative from Medical, but Singh is on-duty in sickbay, Ankewicz is off-shift and overtired after covering my ass, and Singh exercised her authority as acting-CMO to keep Brex onboard.” Leonard cracked a smile. “Of course, Doctor Brex swears he’s functional -- keeps saying that he’s ‘not an invalid,’ - and he wants to get out of the ’damned sickbay’ he’s been cooped up in for ten days, even though he doesn’t remember any of it.”
“Glad to hear he’s on his feet. But that left you, huh?”
“Yep. And I’d figured I’d be stuck following the other science officers around all day, being given the grand-bland tour of their research center, but instead, I spent the morning at the local medical facility.”
Jim gave him a curious look. “Learn anything interesting?”
Leonard gritted his teeth for a moment, but he’d be damned if he was going to keep anything from Jim. “Yeah. I like the Araxians a lot more than the Axanar.”
Jim narrowed his eyes slightly. “Funny. That sounds a lot like what the Zhitoran just said.”
“Oh?”
Jim took a quick look around, then shook his head. “Not here. When do you report back to the Athena?”
“Around 1600 hours.”
“Same with us,” Jim said with a nod. “Then we’ve got the debriefing. Your quarters, 1900? We’ll talk then... and I’m going to talk to Finney, too.”
Leonard folded his arms across his chest. “Probably a good idea, Jim. I’m going to talk to Doctor Brex about...” He let his voice trail off as he noticed another familiar figure moving towards them. Dropping his folded arms, he took a subtle step back from Jim. “Ambassador T’Val, a pleasure to see you again.”
“I am grateful for your presence, Doctor McCoy,” she said in her clipped, business-like tone. “I received word of Doctor Brex’s recovery, and sent him a communique. Now that he is conscious, I need not be a trained Healer to work with him to recover his memories, if he requests my assistance. His reply stated his desire to meet with me when I return to the ship after today’s talks.”
Leonard couldn’t hold back the smile. “That’s great news, Ambassador. But why grateful to see me?”
“I am in need of a doctor. I have developed a headache, and while it has not yet impeded my ability to function, I am too busy for a healing trance unless absolutely necessary. I would like for you to ascertain the cause of the headache.”
Leonard was already opening his tricorder. “I’m not an expert on Vulcan physiology, ma’am, but from what I know, you folks don’t get tension headaches and migraines the way humans do.” He began scanning.
“Correct. Headaches are uncommon in Vulcans, and there is usually a direct cause,” she said as he scanned. “Until the headache ceases, I shall be unable to assist Doctor Brex.”
“Yeah,” Leonard mumbled to himself as he studied the tricorder readout. Seemed normal to him. He ducked down and looked at her eyes. “Well, forget about Doctor Brex for a minute. Let’s work on you.” He pulled down her lower left eyelid. “Look up for me, would ya?”
Her eyes turned upwards, but as they did, her body swayed in place. Leonard quickly released her eyelid and grabbed her arm. “Whoa, easy there! What just happened? What are you feeling?”
“I... I appear to be... to be experiencing mild vertigo,” she said, decidedly shaky. “Perhaps I should notify my assistant that I shall be returning to the ship instead of... instead of...”
As if someone had flipped a switch, T’Val’s eyes rolled back in her head and she slumped backwards. Just as quickly, Jim rushed in and grabbed her beneath her arms, stopping her before she fell.
“T’Val? T’Val! Shit, Jim, help me lay her out on the ground,” Leonard barked out, steadying the Ambassador as Jim helped lower her gently. “Keep her head cradled... there. Hold her steady.”
Suddenly, Jethan was standing next to them. “I saw her fall. What’s happening?”
“I wish I knew,” Leonard said, scanning with the tricorder while keeping a wary eye on the crowd around the terrace. Delegates and representatives had seen her go down and were already moving towards them. “Dammit. Jethan, I’m sorry, but I’m the attending physician here and I need to go back to the ship with her.”
“Understood, McCoy.”
“Bones, what’s going on? Brex, then T’Val?”
Leonard gave Jim a sharp look - not now, Jim! - and shook his head as he pulled out his communicator. “Doctor McCoy to the Athena.”
“Athena responding.”
“Notify sickbay, we’ve got a medical emergency. The Vulcan Ambassador T’Val has lost consciousness. Emergency transport requested. Two to beam directly to sickbay on my order.”
“Acknowledged. Notifying sickbay. Transporter room standing by.”
Leonard took a look around at the situation. The crowd was starting to gather, and people were already asking him questions he didn’t have time to answer. “Jim, I need you to stay and inform the folks down here. Find T’Val’s assistant and Captain Porter. Here... trade places with me... let me get her head. Easy there.”
Jim slid out from beneath T’Val’s head as if he was handling the most delicate thing in the universe. He looked positively spooked. “Bones?”
“Jim, I’ll see you at 1900 hours.” He glanced up. “Medic Jethan, thank you for your time today.”
“You are most welcomed, Doctor McCoy. Take care of your patient.” The expression on his face was unreadable.
Leonard spared him a nod of acknowledgement as he spoke into his communicator again. “USS Athena, we’re ready down here. Energize.”
It was only as the weight of T’Val’s head in his hands faded and his own body dissolved into nothingness that Leonard realized he hadn’t even thought about being scared of the transporter.
*********
To Chapter 12
Canon characters/Pairing(s): Kirk & McCoy, Pike, Finney
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 7,995 for Chapter 11
Warnings: Foul language, political situations, military stuff.
Summary: As cadets on a summer internship, Kirk and McCoy are supposed to keep their eyes open and their mouths shut. As far as Bones is concerned, that’s just plain wrong on Jim Kirk, but Jim seems determined to follow orders and fall in line for a change. After all, they’ve both seen enough trouble in two years at the Academy, and this is the Peace Mission of Axanar. However, when a mystery starts to weave itself around the mission, and the senior officers don’t seem interested in investigating, how far can Kirk and McCoy let it go?
Notes: Still working on catching up. I’ve got some beta work I need to do on later chapters (nit-picky stuff), but this is ready for human consumption. I hope you like it!
Previous chapters: One, Two, Three, Four(A), Four(B), Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten
Chapter 11
At least the weather was nice.
While the negotiations of the Axanar/Araxian portion of the Axanar Peace Treaty were being hashed out in the Parliament building across the terrace, Jim was standing guard. Outside. Where he couldn’t see or hear a damned thing going on inside.
Yeah, this was why he was never, never going to join the Security branch of Starfleet.
At least it wasn’t raining or snowing. Also, his assignment was giving him a chance to observe.
The terrace seemed to serve as a city square to the community. The eerie lack of activity when they’d first arrived yesterday had transformed into the bustle of a town center. People passed through, sometimes stopping and chatting, sometimes sitting on one of the benches for a while, and sometimes hurrying on to their destinations. Even so, it wasn’t as busy as Jim had anticipated. Given the size of the city, it seemed really subdued. Jim had expected more foot traffic, more noise, more activity. It could be cultural. Jim wasn’t so sure.
Besides, security was thick as a pot of Andorian porridge around the entire Parliament Square and city center. Who’d want to go shopping with a squad of armed Starfleet security officers watching your every movement?
The amount of security had been the only truly interesting twist of the day so far. He’d beamed down with the team before sunrise, and had become a security operative for the day. And the security on this mission was crazy. Apparently, the Araxians had demanded it, which didn’t make sense, as the only people around were Araxians themselves plus the delegates. It was supposed to be a peaceful colony. Why did they need to pack the place with security like this?
On one hand, they were Axanar by heritage, with only a couple hundred years separation, which meant there would be significant physiological and cultural similarities. However, according to their history, they were also independent and confident people. It seemed that their legacy of leaving the Axanar and striking out on their own as isolationists should have given them a boldness that their parent race lacked. It made no sense for the Araxians to request so much... protection.
Maybe, with the breakdown in their cloak of isolation, their instinctive need for protection had returned. At least, that was the only explanation Jim could come up with for weaving so much security through a nearly crime-free society. It seemed like a pretty flimsy explanation, though.
So he was standing outside, at the northwest corner of the terrace outside the Parliament building, watching the world go by.
The shops and offices along the main terrace were open and modestly busy. Down the two streets that met at the terrace corner, a few pedestrians made their way. Small vehicles - some enclosed with two seats, and others a bit like motorized tricycles for single passengers - buzzed up and down the streets. Vendor carts with craftsman wares and local produce periodically changed locations, hunting for the best spots for business.
Jim watched it all. He’d been reminded to keep his eyes open. Notice everything. So that’s what he was doing. So far, he’d created a small list of observations.
First, the Araxians wore a different style of clothing than the Axanar. The formal robes he’d seen in the diplomatic proceedings had been similar to the clothes worn by their parent race, with only slight modification in design, although the Araxians seemed to prefer brighter colors. However, the daily attire was quite different, and if Jim had to pick a word, he’d say it was far more practical. Even the waitstaff at the Araxian reception had been dressed in the shortened tunics with leggings, rather than the longer robes worn by... well... every Axanar Jim had seen, including the ones in recorded holos. The tunics with leggings, with some variation in style and color, seemed to be the preferred attire for almost all of the Araxians Jim had seen around Parliament Square. As colonists, practicality made sense. Still... an observation nonetheless.
Second, the Araxians seemed more egalitarian. While he’d been told that the subservience protocols he’d witness on Axanar were standard for all of their society, that just hadn’t been the case here. He’d watched the Araxians in the Square greet each other without any obvious dynamic of superiority or subservience. If he’d been pressed, Jim would have had to admit that it made him a lot more comfortable than what he’d experienced on Axanar. It seemed like a stark contrast to the skittish subservience he’d seen in the waiter at the welcoming reception, but that could be explained by the formality of the reception.
And finally... they looked different. It was subtle, but now that he’d seen enough of them, he was sure that it wasn’t just the case with a small handful of the population. Most of the Araxians had a different hue to their skin. It wasn’t blatantly different, but it was noticeable. Not all of them, no... but quite a few. Most. Maybe it was just one of their natural variations, but he didn’t remember seeing anyone who looked different on Axanar. He didn’t know much about genetics, and he wasn’t quite sure what it meant, but he mentally noted it. Maybe he’d mention it to Bones.
Beyond that, he’d mostly been bored. So much for adventure and excitement on new planets. He’d had far more excitement back on Earth. He stared at the main door to the Parliament building, wishing he could trade out with Wilcox for an hour so he could see what was happening inside. Although, if his estimates were good, the talks would be breaking soon for a mid-day meal and rest period. In fact, the doors were opening, and delegates and support staff began exiting the building in a leisurely manner.
Lunch break, Jim thought. He straightened his posture just a bit, continuing to watch. Some of the delegates crossed the terrace, nodding at him as they passed, and moved off down the street, likely to a restaurant, Jim guessed. Some sat on benches around the square, pulling out small computer devices or packets of whatever passed for food on their world. Jim felt his appetite wane as he watched the Kazarite delegate pull a small pellet out of a pouch around his neck and drop it into a cup of liquid. The cup fizzled and bubbled, and the Kazarite proceeded to spoon up a grayish glop from the cup, appearing to enjoy the food thoroughly. Jim saw the Vulcan Ambassador, T’Val, having what appeared to be an intense conversation with Captain Porter. And...
“You are one of the Starfleet Cadets, yes?” It was an odd accent, a combination of guttural edge and sibilant hiss.
Jim spun around, irritated at having been approached unawares as he’d been watching the delegates and dignitaries strolling around the terrace. He was met by the view of a species he had never encountered at close quarters before: a Zhitoran. Often, Kirk had been able to associate the physical appearance of sentient beings with various non-sentient creatures he’d seen on Earth, whether native or not. This time, he was having no such luck. All he could say was that this person was about two meters tall, with skin that seemed both blue and orange, and generally scaly with an odd tuft of fur or hair fringing his scalp. Jim quickly reminded himself that he probably looked just as peculiar to the Zhitoran. Composing himself, he finally said, “Yes, sir,” despite being unsure if this individual was male or female. “Cadet Kirk, currently interning aboard the USS Athena.”
At that, the Zhitoran made a sound that had to be a laugh. “It would seem that you are not currently aboard the USS Athena, are you Cadet Kirk?”
Just what Jim needed - a weird alien with a witty sense of humor. Bones would love this guy. “Well met, sir,” he said, conceding graciously, then cocked his head. “I saw you at the welcoming reception. Ambassador...?”
“So, you are not as unobservant as it would appear.” He sounded pleased. “I am Ambassador...” His speech dissolved into an unintelligible string of consonants and chirps. At what Jim must have guessed was the gobsmacked look on his face, the Ambassador offered what appeared to be a smile and said, “But you may call me Kerz.”
“I appreciate that, Ambassador Kerz,” Jim said vaguely, wondering if even the legendary Talented-Tongue Uhura could master the Zhitoran language. Or, for that matter, even get the guy’s name right.
“I’ve yet to meet a mammalian humanoid who can pronounce words from our language. Although, a human once introduced me to a non-sentient Terran creature who repeated my name beautifully. I believe they called it a ‘parrot.’”
Jim couldn’t quite hold back a chuckle. “Yes, sir.” At the same time as he was laughing, he was really starting to wonder why this random ambassador was striking up a conversation with him. “I’m wondering... because I haven’t been inside the Parliament building today... how are the talks going?” Jim asked.
Kerz waved a casual hand. Paw. Claw. Whatever it was. “Talks are talks, young cadet. Everyone talks. Far more is said in what people do.” He leaned in a few centimeters. “I am right, yes?”
Okay, that was more interesting. “Yes, sir.”
“I heard you and the Tellarite Ambassador discussing Zhitoran government involvement in the... history we have with the Axanar.” Before Jim could get excited about inside information to win the debate, Kerz held up his hand, talons splayed. “You have the official statement from the Zhitoran government to the Peace Summit. It is my word as well. But...” His eyes crinkled oddly, and Jim would have called it mischievous. “What do you know of the Araxians?”
“Just what’s in the official briefings,” Jim said, trying to hide his hesitation. That was an unexpected segue, and he had no idea where Kerz was going with this line of discussion.
“The Araxians... noble beings, I say. Strong. Independent. Forging out against all odds, from a root society built on timid cowering and willing slavery in trade for protection. They have been glorious, not only in what they say, Cadet Kirk, but what they do! Marvelous!” He clasped his hands together in apparent delight.
A small part of Jim’s brain was wondering how Kerz didn’t impale himself with his own talons. The rest of his brain was thoroughly focused on the more subtle half of what Kerz had just said. “Forming a new colony takes a lot of bravery,” Jim said, being cautious. “But... about the Axanar... what do you mean, slavery?” But even as he said it, he knew there was no denying it. The Axanar lived in a system of slavery, willing though it was.
On any species, conspiratorial always looked the same. Kerz leaned in closer again. “You’ve seen it yourself, young cadet! Peculiar behavior. But, as your philosophers say, infinite diversity in infinite combinations, yes? And we Zhitorans have acknowledged that peace with all includes the acceptance of... lower behaviors.”
While Jim didn’t like to think of cultural traits as “lower behaviors,” he couldn’t help but agree with this one. The way the Axanar played their games of master-and-slave, servitude to the powerful, and groveling humility... it didn’t sit right with him. Still... Keep it diplomatic, Kirk. “I’ve learned about a lot of traditions and customs since joining Starfleet. They may be foreign or odd to me, but I’ve tried to keep an open mind.”
“Open minds are good. Open eyes are better!” He leaned slightly back now, appraising Jim. “I liked your debate with the Tellarite. You are... observant. A respectable Zhitoran trait. So I would ask you... if your debate stance was correct -”
“I wasn’t arguing that because I believed it, sir,” Jim hurriedly explained. “I’m sorry if anything we said was offensive. I was just debating -”
“If you were correct,” Kerz said again, speaking right over him, “then why would our poachers not have pursued the Araxians after they left Axanar?”
“Because you...” Jim caught himself. Records had been verified that the Zhitorans knew about the colony of Araxis for almost 150 years. Not the entire history of the colony, but a lot of it. “I don’t know,” he finally admitted.
“History is an odd thing. Never so simple, is it? Always more than one story. So... would a young, fragile colony have been an easier target for... poachers?”
“It should be.” Somehow, Jim was sure he was skating on thin ice, but he had no idea how to back out of this.
“It should be, yes,” Kerz said, bobbing his head in his species’ equivalent of a shrug. “Now, I am curious... Terrans are meat-eaters, yes?”
Jim had never met a Zhitoran before. All he knew, right now, was that it was the first time a conversation with a new species had left him mentally dizzy, and he could only hope he wasn’t about to stumble into something he couldn’t get out of. “Uh... yes. I mean, we eat meat as well as plants. At least, a lot of us do. Not everyone, though.”
“So the flesh of other creatures is not forbidden... but you do not hunt sentient beings.”
“Of course not!” Jim blurted out, and he knew that any chance he had at appearing dignified and diplomatic was gone. It was all he could do to keep up with what Kerz was saying. “Sentient beings are considered sovereign individuals with rights under Federation law. We’d never hunt sentient beings.”
A victorious light glinted in Kerz’s eye. “And neither do Zhitorans. Any Zhitorans. We find it reprehensible.”
Okay, now Jim was really confused. “But... what about the poachers...?” And suddenly, the logic problem clicked. “You’re saying that you didn’t consider the Axanar sentient?”
“A matter of definition,” Kerz said solemnly.
“But you considered the Araxians sentient.”
“Yes.”
“But they’re the same species!” Jim all but blurted before he reined himself back in.
“Are they?” Kerz almost seemed amused by this.
Jim looked once around the square, glancing at the various Araxians walking about on their daily business. With only the tiniest differences, of course they were the same species. “That would be like saying that humans on colony planets are a separate species from humans on Earth. Besides, you consider both of them to be sentient now, right? If you’re negotiating with them?” Jim was trying to keep a calm expression while his mind scrambled to fit together how the Zhitorans could see only one of the same-yet-different races as being sentient.
“A matter of definition,” Kerz repeated, with slightly different emphasis.
Jim had no idea what that was supposed to mean. “But they don’t seem so different.”
“Really now? Ah, you are correct. They seem quite... similar. And ask yourself then... why is that so?”
“I...” Jim’s mind was reeling. He needed to process this. This whole conversation was sending him for a loop. A paradigm had shifted in his brain, but his conscious thoughts hadn’t caught up with it. He felt stupid and slow. Of course, his scant three hours of interrupted sleep wasn’t helping much. “If we’re following the logic puzzle, then that means one of them has changed... after they became two separate groups. After you decided that the Araxians were sentient.”
“Very good, Cadet. But... a mystery! Who?”
Jim frowned. “Zhitorans regard both species as sentient now. So if the Araxians were considered sentient first, then it would seem that the Axanar had changed something to be more like the Araxians.” Even as he said it, he knew it didn’t make sense. The Axanar had an ancient and established culture and society. From the records, their basic social structure hadn’t changed in almost two millennia, much less two centuries. But then, how else could the societies seem so similar now, and have the Zhitorans consider them both sentient?
Kerz gave him a look that, despite having no physical traits in common, made him think of Bones raising a skeptical eyebrow. “Perhaps. Or... has the definition changed?”
“How can... why... wait. What was the old definition?”
“We have a saying amongst Zhitorans. ‘Until the young leaves the nest, he has no life to claim for himself.’ The saying is, of course, more poetic in the original tongue.”
Jim couldn’t care less about poetic prose just then. “The Araxians left the nest,” he said, suddenly feeling cold despite the warm day.
Kerz gave a slow nod of approval. “As one of your Terran philosophers has also said: he who gives up freedom for security... deserves neither.”
“Do you...” Jim swallowed past a suddenly dry throat. “Do you read a lot of Terran philosophy?”
Suddenly, Kerz looked back over his shoulder. “Ah, the chronometer! Time is limited if I want food before the next session.” He looked back at Jim. “An enjoyable meeting, Cadet Kirk.”
“Thank you, Ambassador Kerz,” Jim said, touching two fingers to his forehead in the manner of greeting and farewell he’d learned for the Zhitorans.
Kerz quickly touched two talons to his own forehead. “May your path be vast and reaching.”
“May you journey far,” Jim replied vaguely, dropping his hand back to his side before the Ambassador turned and hurried off. His footsteps were smooth, and considering how unhurried he appeared, he moved quite quickly. Jim continued to watch Kerz until he’d crossed the terrace and disappeared down one of the many streets leading from the square.
For a long moment, Jim stared at the spot where Kerz had turned the corner, feeling dumbfounded, and not really caring that he wasn’t visually scanning the area for potential security risks. Finally, he shook his head to himself and let out a low whistle.
“Damn.”
*********
It wasn’t a damned thing like Earth, but hell, it wasn’t so bad.
At least, Leonard didn’t think the planet itself was so bad. In fact, it was a really nice day. Warm sun, cool breeze, a few light clouds, and just enough humidity in the air for it to feel almost soft on his face. Yeah, the planet was great. The transporter trip had been another matter, but at least it was over. A short-acting dose of anti-anxiety meds kept him from throwing up this time. He’d get used to it eventually, he was sure, but for now, he just needed to survive this mission.
He’d come down with a group of science officers who’d been invited to visit the city’s engineering facility and sciences research center. They were standing in a courtyard just inside the main gate of an impressive-looking campus, surrounded by large research buildings and open areas between them. Plant life, sculptures, and pathways wove the scenery. It was impressive, really, for such a young colony to have so many well-established facilities. And naturally, the locals would want to show it off to the visiting Federation entourage.
Leonard didn’t know what any of that had to do with him, but all cadets were required to visit the planet at least once (and he hoped it would be just once), so he might as well get this over and done with. He’d brought his own tricorder and medical kit, even though he was assured he wouldn’t need them.
You wanted a doctor, he’d said, so I’m coming down as a damned doctor.
Not that he was going to do anything remotely useful today.
Leonard stared blankly at Lieutenant Commander Harris’s blond ponytail as she handled the formal introductions, but his mind drifted. Maybe there would be some biomedical research going on in the biosciences lab instead of just the botanical and microbial studies that two of the officers in his group had been babbling about for the last hour. Or maybe the microbial studies would include local pathogens, and he could catalogue and document their research. Or...
“And this would be Doctor McCoy,” Commander Harris was saying to the Araxian representative. “He’s the only cadet with us, but a fully qualified doctor who has already been working as a member of our crew.”
“Doctor McCoy, a pleasure and an honor,” the Araxian, a being named Ghren, said with a broad gesture of welcome.
Pasting on a well-trained smile - a combination of Starfleet protocol and Southern manners - Leonard gave a slight bow and introduced himself. “A pleasure to meet you, sir. I’m looking forward to seeing your science facilities.”
At that, Ghren frowned slightly. “I apologize, Doctor. I did not realize you would wish to see the science facilities.”
Leonard frowned, too, seriously confused. “Isn’t that what I’m here to do?”
Ghren looked at Commander Harris before addressing Leonard again. “I had been informed that a doctor... one of your world’s medics... would be amongst your group. If that is you, then I had assumed you would wish to see our medical facilities.” He swept a hand towards one of the other Araxians. “One of our best medics - the professional equivalent of what you would call a doctor - has come to meet you and to escort you through our primary medical center. Medic Jethan?”
The other Araxian, a slightly shorter being, wearing a tunic with a different design than the others, stepped forward. “Doctor McCoy, if you would prefer to see our research facilities, then you’d be welcomed to do so, but I would greatly enjoy showing a Federation doctor what we’ve built here.”
“I’d love to see your medical facilities,” Leonard said in a rush. “I... uh, sorry. I hadn’t realized it was an option. I thought I was going to be shadowing everyone else.” He turned and looked at Commander Harris, hoping he wasn’t crossing lines or being rude. “Sir, if it’s acceptable, I’d really like to see what Araxians have for a medical system here so I can report back to Doctor Brex.”
Commander Harris gave him an amused smile. “I think that’s an excellent idea, Doctor McCoy. We’ll be on the surface until 1600 hours ship’s time, so you’ve got almost eight hours. As long as your escort can get you back here no later than 1550 hours, I can approve the change of plans.” She turned to look to the Araxian medic.
Jethan nodded. “I can ensure Doctor McCoy’s timely return. The medical facility isn’t far from here. Just a brief walk.”
A moment later, Leonard was following Jethan out through the campus gates, and he felt positively giddy. Here he was, on a new planet, about to compare medical notes with a brand new civilization. Sure, the Araxians were essentially the same as the Axanar biologically, but he hadn’t had the chance to see an Axanar medical facility. Plus, the Araxian medical technology had been developing separately for two hundred years. Anything could be different. Hell, maybe this whole space exploration thing really could turn out to be something he’d enjoy.
“How much of the surface have you seen, Doctor?” Jethan asked as they turned onto the walkway outside the research building.
“Only as much as you’ve shown me,” Leonard replied easily as he took a good look around. The buildings along the street were sturdy-looking structures with an elegant simplicity. Bright colors, clean lines, big windows. The walkways were wide on either side of the street, and plants that resembled tree-sized houseplants dotted the scene. “So far, so good. Seems like a nice place.”
“Ah, so you haven’t been down here with the others yet?”
“No.” Leonard couldn’t hold back the slight grimace on his face. “We had a situation up on the ship that had me awake through my sleep cycle, and I was too tired to come on the first landing party, so they took me off duty.”
“A situation? Medical?”
“Yes, but a good one. One of our patients made a significant recovery. It was a... uh... difficult case. I didn’t get any sleep, but he’s doing better.”
Jethan smiled, and Leonard wondered if the healers, doctors, and medics from all species just had some sort of inherent goodness that crossed the lines between species in a way words didn’t. “Good news, then,” he said happily.
“Really good news,” Leonard agreed. He was already starting to like this guy.
“So,” Jethan said conversationally, “seeing as you haven’t been down here, welcome to the center of Araxis. We’re only a few blocks away from the Parliament building. That’s where the all the... talks are happening.” There was an odd hesitation in his voice, but he kept on. “When the city was founded, we planned carefully. We wanted to focus on accessibility of all vital functions for everyone. Parliament was the starting point, but also our advanced schools, research, recreation, and primary medical facility were placed within the central zone. While we eventually built smaller clinics and novice schools in the outskirt towns and more distant settlements that developed over time, our specialized centers are here. Accessible to all, open to all. At least, that’s what I wanted.”
Leonard was taking it all in as much as he could, but something had caught his attention. “Doctor... uh, Medic Jethan... what do you mean, ‘we?’ And ‘I?’ Wasn’t that 200 years ago?”
The man let out a hearty laugh... something he’d not heard once from an Axanar. “McCoy, I am two-hundred-and-fifty-eight years old... in our years, that is. Which would make me 317 in your Terran years.”
“Oh.” It was all Leonard could think to say, given that he’d just been informed that his host was over ten times his age. “So... you were here when Araxis was founded?”
“Oh yes.” His smile became fond. “It’s amazing how much we’ve grown here. 8,739 colonists originally. Although reproduction was more restrained on Axanar, we intended to populate and establish ourselves here, so reproduction became a highly encouraged priority.”
Leonard couldn’t quite hide his own grin. “How many now?”
Jethan’s smile grew even wider. “120,731, as of yesterday morning. I have produced twenty-seven children myself, almost all of whom have had children.”
Leonard let out a low whistle.
“Well, I did have two hundred years in which to do it, Doctor. We reach reproductive maturity in twenty-five years, and... children are precious to us. I hope we have given them the best possible life in the time we’ve had.”
Another curious comment, Leonard noted, but he said nothing.
Jethan shook his head to himself and sighed softly. “We were an idealistic bunch. I was one of the first medics to join in the movement to defect. It was hard to find other medics who agreed, which I couldn’t understand for the longest time. We were taught to heal all, and to serve all. I thought it was a position of service, and honorable for that reason. To relieve suffering - what could be more noble? Right, Doctor?”
“I’d be inclined to agree,” Leonard said. “Obviously.”
Jethan nodded, and his mouth twisted into a grimace. “In retrospect, I was naive, but I finally figured it out. Axanar Healers were addicted to the power and benefits of the position. They did their duties for the servitude of their patients, not out of compassion.” Then he stopped, quickly looked around, and let his shoulders slump. “I should not speak ill of the Axanar...”
“Medic Jethan,” Leonard said in an undertone. “I probably shouldn’t say this myself, but when I was on Axanar... I saw what you’re talking about. Didn’t seem right to me, but I figured... different strokes for different folks, and all that.”
“Different folks,” Jethan echoed softly. “Yes.” Then his face brightened. “To continue your introduction... we were proud of the fact that our facilities were available to all without condition. There was no system of protection and subservience here. All were taught to be strong. All were taught to be wise. Courage was seen as a virtue for all, not some. And medics served the noble art of healing for the sake of healing, not for indebting their patients’ servitude. It was... it was beautiful, Doctor McCoy.”
Despite the warm sun and bright day, something on Jethan’s face had darkened, and Leonard stared at him, trying to put the pieces together as they walked. At first, he’d assumed that the lack of Axanar-style groveling in the scientists who had greeted him was due to their lofty status as the colony’s premiere researchers. Now, he wondered if this was just Araxian culture. If it was, the change was incredible. Sure, he wasn’t supposed to judge one culture against another, but his human preferences certainly swayed towards the Araxians, if this is what it seemed to be.
Finally, he replied, “It certainly is a beautiful thing, Medic Jethan. But... what do you mean... it was?”
“Times change,” Jethan said sadly. “Perhaps the Axanar way is a destiny we can’t escape, and our experiment was never meant to last.”
Leonard frowned. “Wait... you mean things are going back to the way they were on Axanar?”
Jethan looked at him, expression plaintive. “McCoy, when two opposite forces come together... something must inevitably yield. It is politics, Terran.”
Leonard felt his frown deepen to a scowl. “Well... I don’t know much about all that diplomatic stuff, but I’m pretty darn sure that the Federation would have no reason to stifle your way of life. That’s not how it works. We’ve got dozens of planets who have joined, and we’re all different. Ever compared a Vulcan to a Tellarite?”
“I can’t say I have, and I do not doubt you. But McCoy, we are not joining the Federation independently. We are rejoining the Axanar.” His voice was so carefully neutral that it sounded forced. He was looking straight forward as he walked, eyes on the sidewalk before him.
“You don’t approve.” Leonard was certain of that.
“It isn’t my place to approve or not. I am a medic, which gives me some privilege... but not everything.” Then his gaze shifted. “Look ahead. You can see the Parliament building down the street.”
Leonard half-expected another ornate palace-like building, resembling the one he’d seen on Axanar. Instead, the large building he saw, framed by the buildings at the end of the street, was a tribute to simple elegance. Built low for a building of its width, with an open design. Lots of doors and windows at street level.
“A shrine to democracy,” Jethan said, his tone wistful. He sounded as though he was speaking of something that was no longer there. But a second later, his face brightened. “And this is a shrine to the care-taking of patients and the preservation of health!” he exclaimed, turning into a broad doorway. “Welcome to the Primary Medical Clinic of Araxis.”
Leonard cast one last glance down the street at the Parliament building before following Jethan into the clinic.
*********
A few hours later, Leonard had learned two new dermal regeneration techniques, used a blood chemistry analyzer unlike anything he’d ever seen, and taken a peek at the Araxians’ vast library of medical research. Two hundred years of research? It was incredibly impressive, especially for such a small colony. These people evidently had a strong dedication to the pursuit of knowledge. Admirable.
He’d also met a bunch of the other Araxian medical personnel, and had discovered that he really, really liked the Araxians. Nice folks. Good doctors. None of that over-the-top subservience he’d witnessed on Axanar. At least, not in the medical facility.
At the same time, he had noticed an odd undercurrent of tension whenever the Federation or the Peace Summit was mentioned. Leonard had figured it would be at the forefront of everyone’s thoughts, but it seemed like the Araxians here were doing their best to pretend it wasn’t happening.
There was also something surprising he’d discovered with the first patient he’d been allowed to examine. It was a routine physical, and the patient had volunteered to let the alien “doctor” take a peek. Leonard had examined the Axanar delegates on the Athena, and he still had the parameters from his scans programmed into his tricorder. He didn’t really expect anything different, but something caught his attention. Frowning, he reset his tricorder and scanned again.
“He doesn’t have the enzyme pathway to metabolize methane,” Leonard said, staring at his tricorder, then quickly cross-checking it to the Araxian scanner.
Jethan laughed at him. “Why should he? We have no methane in our atmosphere!”
“I know,” Leonard said, recalling that he’d found it odd that a species capable of methane metabolism would choose a planet with none of that gas in the atmosphere. “But most species don’t lose genetic traits so quickly. Just because you don’t need a gene doesn’t make it disappear. Humans still have vestigial organs from before recorded history. I would have guessed that you’d still have the genes and enzymes for methane metabolism, even if you’re not using them.” He looked at the readout on his tricorder, shook his head to himself, then addressed the patient directly. “Were you born here?”
“Yes,” he said proudly. “Second generation, native Araxian. I’m one-hundred-forty-three years old. I’ve produced ten strong children.”
“Congratulations,” Leonard said offhandedly. “But this loss of the methane-metabolizing pathway... is this an unusual mutation?” Leonard asked, looking back and forth between Jethan and the patient.
“Unusual? Oh no, not at all. And it’s an intentional one,” Jethan said happily. “Axanar have both sets of respiratory pathways - oxygen/glucose and oxygen/methane. They rely on the methane for bursts of energy, but it can’t sustain metabolism indefinitely. Oxygen/glucose metabolism can, but only if it is uninterrupted by methane metabolism. We selected this planet for its oxygen-nitrogen atmosphere because we wanted to truly isolate ourselves. You see... several of our best founding medics were geneticists. We realized that in order to make ourselves stronger in this atmosphere, we needed to redesign our biochemistry to work without methane. It would be a planet ill-suited to the Axanar, but perfectly suited to our own progeny.”
Leonard stared at him, stunned. This wasn’t in the briefing. In fact, Leonard was pretty damned sure he was the first Federation representative to hear about this. “You genetically modified your entire species?”
Jethan beamed. “We did. And our children are stronger for it. The founders and our earliest children didn’t have the genetic change, but the rest of us do.” He held his hand out next to the patient’s hand. “The mutation caused a slight change in skin color, as you can see. But aside from that, the only functional difference is their ability to maintain a steady metabolism without methane or the medication we founders must consume.”
Leonard blinked, then looked back at the patient. “What do you think of this? Having had your genetic code artificially programmed?” he asked, not caring if he was stepping over lines. The idea of mass genetic manipulation had been set aside by humans after Augments and World War III. To hear that a whole planet had done it was mind-blowing.
But the patient just grinned. “What would you think of it? It’s wonderful! They helped us adapt to our new home. It doesn’t change who we are, other than the simple fact that we’re Araxians, not Axanar. Besides, isn’t that what parents should do for their offspring? Give them every possible tool to be successful?”
“Yes, Reehn,” Jethan said. “That’s exactly what we wanted. And look at us! The Araxian people are strong and thriving. And... so are you.” He reached over and tapped the scanner, which powered down. “You’re all set for today. Healthy as a zheelath, but try to engage in a bit more sporting activity. It would be good for your vascular fitness.”
“Thank you, medic,” the patient said, hopping down off the bed, then looking at Leonard. “Did you have any other curiosities, medic... I mean, doctor?”
Leonard shrugged. “No, but thank you for the... insights. It was really interesting.”
Reehn waved and walked out of the exam room.
Leonard’s mind was reeling. “Is that the only genetic modification you folks made?” he asked, staring at the wall, not daring to look at Jethan.
“Yes. It did, however, have another beneficial effect.”
“Oh?”
“The methane-metabolizing pathway includes the triglobulin compound, which was used for methane transport in the bloodstream.” His expression turned sly. “With this mutation, the Araxian people would never be a target for poachers.”
Leonard nodded slowly. It made sense, even if the methods made his skin crawl a bit. “And that’s it? No other genetic changes?”
“It was the only modification of gene expression, yes.”
Leonard had taken too many genetics courses to fall for that. “What about chromosomal structure?”
Jethan said nothing for a moment, and the silence was broken only by the sounds of equipment being wiped down and put away. Finally, he said, “We merged two chromosomes into a single chromosome.”
Really? Leonard thought to himself. Aloud, he said, “Your species is androgynous, but you reproduce by genetic exchange, right?”
“Correct.”
Leonard shook his head in awe. The entire planet had genetically isolated themselves. On purpose. With a completely different chromosomal structure, they weren’t Axanar anymore. They were a completely new species. It was mind-blowing.
Leonard slowly sat down on a low bench against the wall. “You really wanted nothing to do with the Axanar anymore, did you?”
A second later, Jethan joined him. “No, we didn’t.”
“Who knows about the chromosome change?” He looked sideways.
“Only our top medics, and... our previous Prime Ministers.” Jethan hesitated, then said, “And now... you.”
Leonard took a slow breath. “Why did you tell me?”
“Perhaps... it is because this is who the Araxian people are... and I would like someone to know. You are a medic who cares for people, and... I felt that I should tell you.” Jethan’s shoulders drooped slightly. “I presume you’re obligated to report this finding to your superiors.”
Leonard didn’t know what to say. Sure, he supposed he was supposed to report this, but for some reason, he didn’t want to. He liked the Araxians. He didn’t like the Axanar. And dammit, would this really matter to Starfleet? Of course it would matter, you idiot, he thought furiously at himself. This sort of information could turn the whole situation on its head. However, Leonard only shrugged. “I... I don’t know. I’m a technically just a cadet. This is a bit out of my league. But... wait.” He frowned. “Previous Prime Ministers? What about the current one?”
Jethan looked mildly annoyed. “I’m a medic, not a politician.”
Leonard raised an eyebrow.
Jethan sighed. “There are certain things beyond my scope. My duty is to the well-being of the Araxian people. First and always.”
Leonard nodded uneasily. He liked Jethan. Really, he did. However, with all the bizarre things happening, he couldn’t ignore this discovery. He wondered what it meant. He wondered what was different about the current Prime Minister. And he wondered... “If you didn’t want anything to do with the Axanar when you left... what’s changed?”
Jethan looked back at him for a moment, expression unreadable, before leaning his hands heavily on his knees and standing. “I believe we are already well past-due for the second meal. Does your species eat four meals per day?”
“Usually three,” Leonard said as he stood. “Although our adolescents seem to eat constantly.”
“Then as you would be an adolescent by our lifespan, it must be time for you to eat,” he replied cheerily. “Come along. There are many excellent food vendors in this area, and our basic nutritional needs are compatible. It would be my pleasure to show you our local cuisine.”
Leonard followed Jethan out of the clinic building, half-listening as the Araxian medic regaled him with tid-bits of Araxian history and local culture as he pointed out buildings and landmarks. They’d built a lot in two-hundred years. They were approaching Parliament Square, the location of Jethan’s restaurant of choice, when Leonard saw a familiar figure.
There was Jim, having what looked like an intense conversation with a person whose species Leonard didn’t recognize. The unidentified alien said something, and with an apparently cordial gesture, quickly took off across the terrace. Jim stood and stared at him, still as a statue.
“Hey, hold on a minute,” Leonard said to Jethan. “That’s one of my friends over there. Can I have a moment to go say hi?”
“Yes. We have time. I’ll wait here.”
Grateful that Jethan wasn’t coming with him, Leonard hurried over to Jim. To his surprise, Jim didn’t even seem to notice him approach. Feeling that payback was always fair, Leonard clapped Jim firmly on the shoulder. “Nice security work, hot-shot.”
Jim, to his amusement, startled so hard he actually squeaked as he spun around. “Shit, Bones! Are you trying to kill me?”
“Nah, kid... just keeping you on your toes.”
Jim gave a shaky laugh. “Yeah. Right. So what are you doing down here?”
“Vacationing in a tropical paradise, what’s it look like I’m doing?” He gave Jim a pointed look. “Who was that you were just talking to?”
“Who, huh? Oh, that was the Zhitoran ambassador. He... uh... had some interesting things to say about the Araxians.” Jim looked flustered, which was just wrong. Jim never looked flustered. Not like this. Then his eyes focused more clearly on Leonard’s face. “So where have you been? I’m glad you finally made it to the surface, but I figured you’d come down with the other cadets. Which party are you with?”
Leonard shook his head. “Group of science officers. They wanted to send a doctor as a representative from Medical, but Singh is on-duty in sickbay, Ankewicz is off-shift and overtired after covering my ass, and Singh exercised her authority as acting-CMO to keep Brex onboard.” Leonard cracked a smile. “Of course, Doctor Brex swears he’s functional -- keeps saying that he’s ‘not an invalid,’ - and he wants to get out of the ’damned sickbay’ he’s been cooped up in for ten days, even though he doesn’t remember any of it.”
“Glad to hear he’s on his feet. But that left you, huh?”
“Yep. And I’d figured I’d be stuck following the other science officers around all day, being given the grand-bland tour of their research center, but instead, I spent the morning at the local medical facility.”
Jim gave him a curious look. “Learn anything interesting?”
Leonard gritted his teeth for a moment, but he’d be damned if he was going to keep anything from Jim. “Yeah. I like the Araxians a lot more than the Axanar.”
Jim narrowed his eyes slightly. “Funny. That sounds a lot like what the Zhitoran just said.”
“Oh?”
Jim took a quick look around, then shook his head. “Not here. When do you report back to the Athena?”
“Around 1600 hours.”
“Same with us,” Jim said with a nod. “Then we’ve got the debriefing. Your quarters, 1900? We’ll talk then... and I’m going to talk to Finney, too.”
Leonard folded his arms across his chest. “Probably a good idea, Jim. I’m going to talk to Doctor Brex about...” He let his voice trail off as he noticed another familiar figure moving towards them. Dropping his folded arms, he took a subtle step back from Jim. “Ambassador T’Val, a pleasure to see you again.”
“I am grateful for your presence, Doctor McCoy,” she said in her clipped, business-like tone. “I received word of Doctor Brex’s recovery, and sent him a communique. Now that he is conscious, I need not be a trained Healer to work with him to recover his memories, if he requests my assistance. His reply stated his desire to meet with me when I return to the ship after today’s talks.”
Leonard couldn’t hold back the smile. “That’s great news, Ambassador. But why grateful to see me?”
“I am in need of a doctor. I have developed a headache, and while it has not yet impeded my ability to function, I am too busy for a healing trance unless absolutely necessary. I would like for you to ascertain the cause of the headache.”
Leonard was already opening his tricorder. “I’m not an expert on Vulcan physiology, ma’am, but from what I know, you folks don’t get tension headaches and migraines the way humans do.” He began scanning.
“Correct. Headaches are uncommon in Vulcans, and there is usually a direct cause,” she said as he scanned. “Until the headache ceases, I shall be unable to assist Doctor Brex.”
“Yeah,” Leonard mumbled to himself as he studied the tricorder readout. Seemed normal to him. He ducked down and looked at her eyes. “Well, forget about Doctor Brex for a minute. Let’s work on you.” He pulled down her lower left eyelid. “Look up for me, would ya?”
Her eyes turned upwards, but as they did, her body swayed in place. Leonard quickly released her eyelid and grabbed her arm. “Whoa, easy there! What just happened? What are you feeling?”
“I... I appear to be... to be experiencing mild vertigo,” she said, decidedly shaky. “Perhaps I should notify my assistant that I shall be returning to the ship instead of... instead of...”
As if someone had flipped a switch, T’Val’s eyes rolled back in her head and she slumped backwards. Just as quickly, Jim rushed in and grabbed her beneath her arms, stopping her before she fell.
“T’Val? T’Val! Shit, Jim, help me lay her out on the ground,” Leonard barked out, steadying the Ambassador as Jim helped lower her gently. “Keep her head cradled... there. Hold her steady.”
Suddenly, Jethan was standing next to them. “I saw her fall. What’s happening?”
“I wish I knew,” Leonard said, scanning with the tricorder while keeping a wary eye on the crowd around the terrace. Delegates and representatives had seen her go down and were already moving towards them. “Dammit. Jethan, I’m sorry, but I’m the attending physician here and I need to go back to the ship with her.”
“Understood, McCoy.”
“Bones, what’s going on? Brex, then T’Val?”
Leonard gave Jim a sharp look - not now, Jim! - and shook his head as he pulled out his communicator. “Doctor McCoy to the Athena.”
“Athena responding.”
“Notify sickbay, we’ve got a medical emergency. The Vulcan Ambassador T’Val has lost consciousness. Emergency transport requested. Two to beam directly to sickbay on my order.”
“Acknowledged. Notifying sickbay. Transporter room standing by.”
Leonard took a look around at the situation. The crowd was starting to gather, and people were already asking him questions he didn’t have time to answer. “Jim, I need you to stay and inform the folks down here. Find T’Val’s assistant and Captain Porter. Here... trade places with me... let me get her head. Easy there.”
Jim slid out from beneath T’Val’s head as if he was handling the most delicate thing in the universe. He looked positively spooked. “Bones?”
“Jim, I’ll see you at 1900 hours.” He glanced up. “Medic Jethan, thank you for your time today.”
“You are most welcomed, Doctor McCoy. Take care of your patient.” The expression on his face was unreadable.
Leonard spared him a nod of acknowledgement as he spoke into his communicator again. “USS Athena, we’re ready down here. Energize.”
It was only as the weight of T’Val’s head in his hands faded and his own body dissolved into nothingness that Leonard realized he hadn’t even thought about being scared of the transporter.
*********
To Chapter 12