Star Trek: That Which Divides (7 page)

Of course, that’s assuming there are survivors in the first place
.

Irritated with himself over the errant thoughts intruding on his consciousness, McCoy eyed the empty cup sitting abandoned near the corner of his desk. Deciding that his mood might be improved in singular fashion with the introduction of fresh coffee into the mix, he retrieved the cup and moved from behind his desk. He was halfway to the food synthesizer on the other side of his office when the door leading to the corridor outside sickbay slid aside to reveal Ambassador Dana Sortino.

“Doctor McCoy,” she said, smiling as she stepped into the room. “I hope I’m not interrupting.” Her attire, a light-gray skirt and modest top paired with a mellow purple jacket, was formal without making her appear stiff or unapproachable. McCoy suspected it was a conscious choice on her part, her wardrobe seemingly selected to put at ease those with whom she might interact even in the most decorous setting.

Holding up the cup for her to see, McCoy replied, “You’re hardly an interruption, Ambassador. I was just getting myself a cup of coffee. Care for some?”

Sortino shook her head. “No, thank you.”

As he pressed the controls beneath the food slot and waited for the device to process his request, he said, “You’ve kept a pretty low profile since the poker game.”

“I’ve been going over my briefings on the Dolysians,”
the ambassador said, sighing. “I think those files keep growing when I’m not looking.”

The food slot’s door slid up, revealing McCoy’s coffee, and he retrieved it as he turned to regard Sortino. “I used to cram before a big test all the time, too. Not sure if it helped, but for some reason it always managed to put my mind at ease.”

“Lucky you,” Sortino countered. “All it does for me is put
my
mind to throbbing, and thus, the reason for my visit. I was hoping you might remedy that.”

McCoy crossed back to his desk, setting the coffee down next to his computer terminal. “Congratulations. You’ve just been promoted to my most challenging case of the day.” He gestured for her to follow him. “Follow me, Ambassador, and we’ll have you fixed right up in no time.” He led her into the laboratory area and toward the storage cabinets where he kept those curatives that were most often requested by his walk-in patients. Opening the cabinet containing mild analgesics and other low-dose medications, he selected a small vial and dispensed a single, small blue tablet into Sortino’s open and extended palm.

“It’ll dissolve as soon as it hits your tongue,” he said. “Doesn’t taste too bad, either, but I can get you some water if you like.”

Sortino shook her head. “This’ll be fine, thank you.” Swallowing the pill, she closed her eyes and exhaled through her nose. After a moment, she said, “Is it supposed to work so fast?”

“Oh, yes,” McCoy replied. “It’s no mint julep, but it gets the job done.” Replacing the vial in the cabinet and closing the unit, he asked, “So, what now? Back to reviewing briefing packets?”

“Nope,” Sortino said. “Captain Kirk called down to my cabin a few minutes ago. Mister Spock has finished his analysis of the
Huang Zhong
’s recorder buoy, and is ready to brief me on his findings. I’m on my way to the bridge.”

Considering the ambassador’s statement, he asked, “The bridge? That has to be more exciting than anything going on around here. Would you mind if I shared a turbolift with you?”

Sortino frowned. “You can just do that? Go up to the bridge?”

“I have clearance throughout the ship,” McCoy replied. “One of the fringe benefits of being something of a counselor as well as the chief medical officer.” He shrugged. “Not the job I trained for, but I guess it helps that I have a knack for reading people. So, I wander around the ship from time to time. It gives me an opportunity to observe the crew in their work spaces, rather than formalizing the process by bringing them in here and making them self-conscious about talking about whatever might be bothering them.” Then he smiled. “Mostly, I just like snooping around.”

Leaving sickbay, they navigated around other members of the
Enterprise
crew as they made their way through the curved corridor. A pair of crewmen dressed in maintenance coveralls, whom McCoy recognized as part of the engineering staff, were waiting at the turbolift doors as he and Sortino approached. Both men stepped aside, allowing him and the ambassador to enter the lift.

“Going up?” McCoy asked when the men remained standing in the corridor rather than stepping into the car.

One of the crewmen shook his head. “We’ll get the next one, Doctor.”

“Suit yourself.” The doors closed, and McCoy reached
for one of the grips mounted inside the lift. “Bridge.” He felt the gentle push beneath his feet as the car vibrated and whined to life before moving on a lateral track. As it continued to accelerate, he noted for some inexplicable reason that the light bands scrolling past the turbolift’s motion indicator caused a strobe effect across Sortino’s face. It was an odd, soothing sight, and it was not until Sortino turned to face him that he realized he was staring.

“Sorry,” he said, feeling a wave of sudden embarrassment. “I was . . . lost in thought for a second.”

If she saw through his weak fib, she had the grace and decency not to call him on it. Instead, she said, “Doctor, you mentioned your ability to read people. I’d like to think that I’ve acquired a similar gift.”

McCoy nodded as he felt the lift slowing before the lights in the motion indicator switched to scrolling in a vertical pattern, signifying the car’s ascent. “Given your chosen profession, I can imagine something like that coming in pretty handy.”

“I’m not really sure what we’re getting into out here with the Dolysians,” Sortino said, “but I feel better knowing it’s the
Enterprise
that’s here with me. Your ship and crew have quite the reputation, you know.”

Unable to resist a small chuckle, McCoy said, “You are most definitely nothing like any diplomat we’ve ever had aboard.”

Sortino had time only to share a laugh at his comment before the turbolift slowed to a halt and the doors opened to reveal the bridge. The familiar sounds of activity filled the air as intercom voices relayed status reports from other areas of the ship, control panels beeped either to request their users’ attention or in response to bridge officers’
commands. As he and the ambassador stepped from the car, McCoy looked to the main viewscreen and the brilliant energy field displayed upon it.

“Wow,” Sortino said, her attention also on the screen. “That’s really something.”

Nodding, McCoy replied, “You can say that again.” He directed her away from the turbolift alcove. To their left, Montgomery Scott sat at the engineering station, and he nodded in greeting as he noted their arrival. Guiding Sortino to the right along the bridge’s upper deck, McCoy glanced at Lieutenant Nyota Uhura as she looked up from her communications console. While Lieutenant Hikaru Sulu and Ensign Pavel Chekov manned the helm and navigation stations at the center of the room, the command chair behind them was empty. Its normal occupant, Jim Kirk, instead was leaning against the railing that separated the bridge’s perimeter workstations from the command well. The captain’s hands were clasped before him as he conversed quietly with his first officer, Mister Spock, who was seated at the science station. Looking up at their approach, Kirk straightened his posture and pulled down on his uniform tunic.

“Ambassador, thank you for joining us,” he said, the casual manner he had displayed at the poker game two nights previously now replaced by a straightforward demeanor, or “command mode,” as McCoy liked to call it. “As I told you earlier, Mister Spock has finished his review of the
Huang Zhong
’s distress buoy.”

The buoy had been intercepted within moments of the
Enterprise
’s arrival in the Kondaii system less than three hours earlier. According to the preliminary information Kirk had shared with him, McCoy knew that the device had
been found maintaining station outside the mysterious energy barrier surrounding the Gralafi planetoid, and was the only clue as to the current status of the
Archer
-class scout ship. Much to the doctor’s relief, no debris or ship wreckage had been found.

“Does it offer any details about what happened?” Sortino asked.

His expression grim, Kirk nodded. “I’m afraid so. Spock?”

Folding his arms across his chest, the first officer said, “The data contained in the buoy’s memory banks reports that the
Huang Zhong
sustained damage during its transit of the rift. Based on the sensor telemetry provided by the science officer, the energy field possesses properties similar to a passive sensor net, not unlike those used to protect sensitive ground-based installations. Further, the field reacted to the presence of the ship’s warp engines, or perhaps the energy generated by the engines. The ship then encountered further difficulty after assuming orbit over the Gralafi planetoid. Information at this point in the record is somewhat incomplete, but there are indications of some sort of attack from the planet’s surface.”

“Attack?” McCoy repeated. “By whom? Surely not the Dolysians?”

Spock shook his head. “No, Doctor. The Dolysians do not possess the level of technology required to launch an assault on an orbiting space vessel. As to the identity of the responsible party, there is no data at present to support any preliminary conclusions.”

“How about a guess, Spock?” the captain asked.

Though his face of course registered no outward emotional reaction, the Vulcan’s voice seemed to lower an
octave as he replied, “I would prefer to review the available information in greater detail before putting forth a hypothesis, Captain.”

“Of course you would,” Kirk replied, smiling. Then, he added, “But, even your initial analysis tells you it’s probably not safe for us to enter the rift?”

It was Scott, having moved from his station and stepped down into the command well to stand next to Kirk, who replied, “I wouldn’t think so, sir. Our warp engines would likely provoke the same kind of reaction. That’d be risky, even dangerous. I’d like to take a better look at the data for myself. I may be able to do something to reduce or eliminate the risk; alter plasma flow or modulate the warp field generators, perhaps. We could even deactivate the warp engines entirely, though that wouldn’t be my first choice.”

“Nor mine,” Kirk said. “So, how close is too close?”

The engineer frowned. “Based on what I’ve been able to dig out of the sensor data so far, I’d say a hundred thousand kilometers is a nice buffer, just to be on the safe side.”

“Mother hen, that’s what you are.” Sighing, Kirk nodded. “Okay, Scotty, look into that. See if you can find a way to let us pass through, but without doing anything to upset the field’s natural stability.”

“It’s likely that ‘natural’ is an inappropriate descriptor in this case, Captain,” Spock said. “The readings collected by the
Huang Zhong
sensors indicate a repeating modulation in its waveform, one precise enough that the odds of it occurring naturally are quite remote.”

“Remote?” Kirk echoed.

McCoy asked, “Remote enough that the
Huang Zhong
’s science officer might’ve had it right all along?”

“Not now, Bones,” Kirk snapped. “All right, so if it
is
artificial in origin, how is it the Dolysians haven’t been able to figure that out for themselves?”

Spock replied, “The readings are such that very sensitive equipment would be required to detect the patterns, Captain. Current Dolysian technology precludes the existence of such equipment.”

Before the conversation could proceed, an alert tone sounded on the bridge, and McCoy looked past Kirk to see the alarm indicator at the center of the helm-navigation console flashing bright red. Ensign Chekov turned in his seat, and McCoy saw the concern on the younger man’s face.

“Captain, we’re picking up the approach of a vessel. It looks to be a Dolysian transport, sir. It came out of the rift and is heading in our direction.” Looking toward the main viewscreen, McCoy now was able to discern a small, dark shape highlighted by the intense illumination of the energy field. It was short and stout, resembling at least in some respects the sorts of low-warp long-haul freighters that were in common use from Earth during the previous century.

His attention also on the screen, Kirk hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “Uhura, broadcast a standard hail on all frequencies.”

“Aye, Captain,” answered the communications officer as she input the instructions to her console. After a moment, she reported, “We’re receiving a reply to our hail. Audio and visual, sir.”

“On-screen,” Kirk ordered.

The image of the energy field on the main viewscreen faded, to be replaced by that of two figures—a Dolysian
and a human male—standing in what to McCoy looked to be the transport craft’s bridge. The Dolysian, also a male, wore what the doctor presumed was a sort of simple uniform, with a broad-shouldered dark green coat tailored to the alien’s slender physique. His human companion was a dark-skinned man, sporting what McCoy noted was a nasty abrasion on one cheek and a large cut on his chin. Though he wore a simple gray tunic instead of a uniform, his hairstyle and sideburns identified him as a member of Starfleet.

As he was wont to do in such situations, Kirk spoke first. “I’m Captain James T. Kirk of the Federation
Starship Enterprise
. May we be of assistance?”

On the screen, the Dolysian replied, “
Greetings, Captain. I am Renchir Thay na Berrong of the Unified Police Force, and I bid you welcome. As it seems our names can be somewhat cumbersome for humans to pronounce, Thay will suffice. I have been sent to assist you. I have been ordered by the leadership council to escort you through the Pass and on to Gralafi, and to lend whatever support you may require due to the unpleasant circumstances which have brought you to us.
”

“Unpleasant and certainly unintentional,” Kirk said. “On behalf of the United Federation of Planets, I welcome your assistance. We hope to remedy the situation as quickly as possible so as not to pose any further inconvenience.”