Constellations (9 page)

“Some doctors would make terrific captains,” Kirk observed.

“The sick ones, maybe,” McCoy said over the lip of his glass. “No, tending to a single crew is fine by me. Gives me time to do research. I'm not after the center seat, Jim.”

“Glad to hear that,” Kirk replied, grinning broadly. Then he flashed back to the image of Sulu lying on the diagnostic bed, McCoy working feverishly to repair the damage from his reckless decision. The doctor evidently spotted the sudden change in attitude.

“So, what are you worried about?”

“Maybe Sulu wasn't ready and I pushed him too hard.”

McCoy thought about that for a moment, studied his glass, and then slapped it down on the desk. “Bull! If he came to you and asked, then he thought he was ready. You agreed. He's been fine right up to now, so don't start second-guessing yourself. If, in a month, he's still shaky and can't steer the ship, then fine, stick him back in Spock's department. But right now, there's no need to get so damn morose.”

“I think that's enough, Doctor,” Kirk said, letting an edge slip into his voice.

“We agree on something, then,” McCoy said, gathering his things back onto the tray. “I'll be with my patients if you need me.” Without waiting for a reply, the doctor walked out of the cabin, leaving Kirk smarting from the tart tone. Piper never talked to him like this. And maybe he needed to hear some dissenting voices now and then.

 

Spock had completed a spectral analysis from the tricorder readings and had concluded that various directed energy weapons had been brought to bear against Lindstrom, which resulted in the scream. He had clearly passed out from the onslaught, and the science officer thought it fortunate that the sociologist was not immediately killed. Spock speculated that the weapons may have had adjustable settings, similar to the phasers, and they were modulated not to kill but merely to incapacitate intruders. Still, a part of him was impressed by the sheer variety of security devices in place to safeguard the building, and he began to revise his estimate of its purpose.

He glanced from screen to screen, noting that Manprasad remained totally immobilized in her small chamber. Lindstrom was unconscious. That left Sulu the only mobile member of the landing party. His athletic skills, which were clearly exceptional, allowed him to avoid attacks deftly. Fascinated, the Vulcan watched as Sulu clambered over a console and twisted to avoid several energy discharges. The agile human was in constant motion as he probed the room, obviously searching for some means of deactivating the security system while firing his phaser at the weapons whenever feasible. Several off-target shots blew holes in the ceiling, opening the structure to this world's gray sky. A glance at the far left screen showed that the local barometric pressure was dropping rapidly. Spock anticipated that rain would soon follow.

 

Rand was still seated by the bed when Sulu opened his eyes, and he blinked a few times in surprise. She merely grinned at him and handed over a cup of water before shutting off the library monitor.

“Reading anything good?” His voice sounded thick and sleepy, which felt about right.

“Actually just the online scuttlebutt. Never you mind about that. You want to finish the story?”

Sulu thought about it, unhappy with rehashing the pain, but the arguments that had gotten him started remained valid. He delayed a bit longer, sipping at his water, partly hoping Rand would get bored and slip away, but she remained in her chair. After taking a deep breath, he picked up his narrative.

 

Sulu stared at the ceiling for a moment, not daring to take any longer. So far, his shots hadn't stopped the weapons and only managed to bring a chill to the air. He saw that more weapons were targeting him, so he was in motion again, the sweat on his back now feeling clammy.

Once more he attempted to reach Manprasad and free her. As he got closer, he took his eyes off the weapons and looked past the orange haze of the force field. The tendrils were at last lowering her to the ground, but then his eyes went wide in shock. He saw a thick purplish gas start to fill the room. Given what the building had thrown at the party already, he feared the worst.

He fired a few quick shots at the nearest weapons platform and then ducked two return volleys from his automated opponent. Sulu rolled under a console, took aim by holding the phaser with both hands, and squeezed the trigger. He was hoping that a concentration of phaser fire might overload and short out the force field. It was about the only trick he had yet to try, and he was running out of ideas.

Above the whine of the phaser, which would start to overheat in another thirty seconds, Sulu heard a different sound, something buzzing. Since the force field hadn't even changed hue, let alone shorted out, he took his aching finger from the trigger and holstered the phaser. He reached for his tricorder and took a fresh set of readings, revealing a new energy signature. He also learned something new: An electric current seemed to extend several kilometers beneath them. The structure was the tip of what could be a very complex iceberg, he concluded. But the information was of little value in his present circumstances.

Swiveling his head, he spotted something flit out of sight, but the buzz grew louder. Then he saw it, a robotic flying weapon, not unlike an insect. That is, if the insect was entirely metallic, painted puce, and had sparking stingers protruding out the sides. It had headed up in the air and then down, launching itself toward him. Sure enough, twin yellow bolts fired. One missed him as he rolled to the side, but the other glanced off his hip, and it stung something fierce. He wanted to let out a grunt but swallowed instead.

The weapon came toward him again in a direct run, but then he caught the whine of a second device. It was coming from behind. Sulu curled himself into a tight ball and tried to roll himself back under the nearest console, but he felt another sting right above his kidney. He let out an anguished sound between gritted teeth.

The robots met up in formation and began swooping down toward his level. He had to ignore the burning pain he felt and act quickly. His left hand gripped his tricorder and he swung, backhanding the machines as they came in range. Sure enough, one of them was struck and it went buzzing off, away from him. The other veered from the tricorder, circling around to renew its attack. Another shot, and this one hit his left shoulder.

For a moment, his scream drowned out the buzzing.

His left arm numb, Sulu drew his phaser with his right hand and fired. One robot dematerialized in a burst of light.

The other was nowhere to be found. The exhausted helmsman carefully walked around the area but heard nothing. He assumed that when one robot went off-line the security system summoned the other back as a protective measure. At every little sound he reacted, snapping his head around, looking for the next source of attack.

Shaking with anger, Sulu decided finesse had not worked thus far so it was time for a more direct approach. Once more he approached Manprasad's room, paused to make sure she hadn't woken up or moved, and this time he aimed and fired a tight beam to the left of the doorway. With no energy field to absorb the phaser beam, the wall smoked and crumbled. He poured it on, knowing he risked an overload but determined not to waver.

As the wall crumbled, debris mixing with the dirt on the floor, Sulu wondered what the building had to throw at him next. He stole a look above him and saw that the weapons platforms had gone still. Had the entire system seized somehow?

When there was finally a hole in the wall, he stepped back, trying to avoid the escaping gas. The air was tinged with a sweet smell and he began to cough, then vomited. His finger still triggered the phaser, the hole enlarging and the gas escaping, dragged to the sky by air currents from the openings he had previously punched through the ceiling.

When the hole was large enough, he holstered his weapon, waved at the air before him and waited a moment to stop coughing. Ready, he carefully approached the hole, still warm from the phaser fire. The energy shield from the door continued to heat the air in the vicinity, making him sweat further. He sucked in a lungful of air, exhaled, and approached the hole. Dissipating heat radiated from it, but he felt an overwhelming need to check his crewmate so, ignoring the still too-high temperature, he pulled his battered body into the small room. He felt his uniform shirt rip on a jagged edge, and he bumped his injured shoulder against a different part of the wall. The pain forced him to stop halfway through the inches-thick hole and take deep breaths, the heat burning his legs through his trousers.

Finally, he was through the wall and into the chamber.

Only then did it dawn on him that if that little made him sick to his stomach, what would a roomful of gas have done to Manprasad? He scrambled over to her inert form on the floor, released when the tendrils retracted, and shook her right arm. No reaction. He searched for a pulse. Feeling none, he leaned over her head, praying to detect a breath.

After a few more seconds, it was clear she was dead.

 

Rand leaned over and grasped Sulu's hand, squeezing it between both of hers. They sat in silence.

On the bridge, Spock had noted the toxic nature of the gas, cataloguing its recorded properties and forwarding them to sickbay, presuming it would help McCoy with the autopsy. He made himself a note to add the information to Manprasad's service record. The science officer hadn't known her well; in fact, he hadn't gotten to know D'Amato and the other scientists in his department. True, he knew their records and capabilities, but Kirk had made him keenly aware that under his command, getting to know the people, outside the context of their vocations, was important.

Spock returned his attention to the trio of screens, strangely comforted when the rain arrived as expected. It came down hard and fast and, according to the readings taken from Lindstrom's tricorder, quite cool.

He paused the playbacks for a moment and called up a schematic of the facility. From what he could tell, its oversized structures had provided places to hide during the attacks, but now that same advantage became a liability, as the ceiling was entirely beyond their reach and it was the only exterior wall the phasers had managed to pierce.

He didn't see any way for them to get out, given what the tricorders managed to detect next. With a flip of a control, Spock resumed the playback and saw that the damage Sulu had caused was quite effective in shutting down the defensive systems.

However, the weakened ceiling had started to give way and at least two of the weapons platforms had come crashing down, shattering upon impact with the hard floor. Wires sparked and equipment smoldered. Soon the entire slick surface would carry the current from the weapons and Sulu and Lindstrom would be electrocuted, if Lindstrom wasn't dead already.

 

“Any good gossip about someone other than me?” Sulu really didn't feel like discussing any more of what happened, what, yesterday? It seemed so long ago. He pleaded at Rand with his eyes and she seemed willing to change the subject.

“You know Angie Martine?”

“The phaser chief?”

“That's the one. She and Tomlinson set a date for the wedding.”

“Well, good for them,” Sulu said, his mood darkening again. “You know, Vinani was engaged.”

Rand shook her head, face softening in sympathy. “No, I didn't know her other than to say hi in the rec rooms.”

“Yeah, me either.” He lapsed into silence again, his diversion lasting only a minute or two. Clearly, not long enough.

“Hikaru, you have to finish,” Rand prompted.

He looked at her, giving his friend a weak grin. She returned it sympathetically. “You just want to see how I survived, right?”

“Well, I know you did, but I think you need to do this for yourself. You can't bottle it up, and you need to get comfortable with the telling.”

He frowned. “Not too comfortable.”

“No, not too comfortable.”

 

Sulu recognized he had a responsibility to his team before himself. He cradled Manprasad's corpse and carried it from her death chamber to the main part of the building. There was the one wide bench and he carefully placed her on it, wincing in pain from his shoulder and back. He realized he might have cracked a rib or two along the way. He watched as the rain began to soak her hair and smudged uniform.

Then he turned and sought a place for Lindstrom's body but didn't see a second bench, just the oversized chair by the main console. He couldn't believe both members of his team were dead. If he wasn't careful, he'd kill himself, going for the trifecta in incompetence. Maybe simply surrendering to his failure was the answer.

As he approached Lindstrom's limp form, the man's duty shirt a deep, soaked blue, Sulu adjusted the tricorder for base human life-sign readings. Sulu wasn't a trained field medic so he'd have to be very careful. But the sociologist was alive, and that changed Sulu's attitude from resignation to determination. He hobbled over to the sodden, muddy gear to locate the emergency medical kit. First, he activated the emergency beacon and then moved back to his patient. The bandages were soaked, but he managed to wrap the visible injuries, treating them with an ointment and following the directions he found inside the kit.