The Sky's The Limit Part 2

In the back, Crusher saw Yar kneeling next to the shuttlecraft's emergency transporter pad. To maximize s.p.a.ce while making the shuttle as utilitarian as possible to medical needs, Enterprise engineers had cross-purposed the device to function as a replicator, capable of creating any equipment or synthesizing any pharmaceuticals or implants Crusher might deem necessary for treatment. At the moment, Yar was using it to conjure two cups of coffee.

"Coffee on demand has to be the greatest invention since warp drive," the lieutenant said as she moved forward, handing one of the cups to Crusher before taking her own seat in the c.o.c.kpit. "I don't know how people survived these long trips before replicators."

Crusher smiled, appreciating Yar's light att.i.tude. It went a long way toward diffusing her own growing apprehension as they neared the rendezvous point. During their trip, the longest stretch of one-on-one time she had ever spent with the security chief, her appreciation for Yar's straightforward yet relaxed style had grown. Tasha Yar was a natural leader, at ease with her responsibilities. Crusher could understand what Picard had seen in her when recruiting her for duty aboard the Enterprise.

Taking a moment to review the array of controls and status monitors on the helm console, Yar said, "You've reviewed Daret's latest report?"

"I have," Crusher replied, holding up for emphasis the padd that had been resting in her lap. "Ensign Weglash, the Benzite, has suffered extensive damage to his lungs, and that's apart from his being deprived of his breathing apparatus for who knows how long." Most Benzites living and working in regular Cla.s.s-M environments depended on moisture and infused mineral salts provided by the vaporizers they wore to a.s.sist their breathing. She was thankful she had taken the time to replicate a quant.i.ty of the liquid and brought it along.

Yar nodded. "What about the others?"

Tapping a control on the padd, Crusher said, "The Vulcan woman, Lieutenant T'Lan, has suffered severe intracranial trauma on top of other general injuries. Commander Gregory Spires, the leader of the mission, lost three limbs in the crash. And all are coping with severe burns on various parts of their bodies."

"What are their chances, Doctor?"

Looking up from her padd, Crusher saw the expression of worry on the lieutenant's face. It was not surprising to encounter such concern, despite never having served alongside these officers. That was just one of the special bonds shared by anyone who wore a Starfleet uniform.

"It's hard to say without examining them myself," Crusher replied, "but thanks to Ialona, they're a d.a.m.n sight better off. I've no doubt he saved their lives." Noticing the skeptical expression clouding Yar's features, she asked, "Something bothering you, Tasha?"

"Force of habit, Doctor," Yar replied, reaching up to brush a lock of blond hair from her eyes. "I guess I'm looking for more than we're seeing."

"Because Daret is Carda.s.sian?"

Yar nodded. "Honestly? Yes. This whole notion seems off, somehow. The Carda.s.sians are smart enough to know they've captured spies. I don't see how just handing them over pays off for them."

"I'm not second-guessing your judgment," Crusher said, "but consider something. As long as there have been battles, physicians have treated wounded soldiers despite the color of their uniforms or the color of their blood. Daret is a healer first and a Carda.s.sian second. I witnessed that firsthand on the Sanctuary. Whatever he's after, it's because he's a doctor, not a soldier or politician."

"Well, I certainly can't argue with the faith you've shown in him to this point," Yar replied. "But he's really not the one I'm worried about. You can be sure his captain will be playing at something. He's the one I'll be watching."

"Jean-Luc did say I'd be in good hands," Crusher said just as an alert signal sounded from the shuttlecraft's control console. "What's that?"

"Sensors are picking up the approach of a Carda.s.sian vessel," Yar replied, her fingers moving across the helm. "It's coming in on the specified vector." Reaching across the console, she keyed the communications system. "Federation shuttlecraft Jefferies to approaching Carda.s.sian vessel. Respond, please."

A moment later, the helm's central viewer activated, coalescing into the image of a Carda.s.sian officer, cloaked in shadow and back-lit by a diffused light source. His black hair was streaked with gray similar in hue to his ridged, rippled skin. Cobalt blue eyes peered from beneath a p.r.o.nounced cranial ridge. "I am Gul Edal of the Carda.s.sian warship Kovmar. Prepare to receive landing instructions."

Clearing her throat, Crusher said, "This is Doctor Beverly Crusher. Is Ialona Daret aboard?"

"Indeed he is, Doctor," Edal replied, "and he sends his regards. However, he is occupied in our infirmary with your patients. You will see him shortly. Follow your landing instructions without deviation. Kovmar out." With that, the transmission ended.

"Warm welcome," Yar said, her attention focused on the helm. Crusher watched her enter a string of commands, and a moment later the Jefferies dropped out of warp.

"Could just be that renowned Carda.s.sian efficiency," Crusher offered.

Yar shrugged. "Efficient at being inhospitable, maybe. Like I said, he's the one I'll be watching."

As an orphan living amid the turmoil gripping the failed Federation colony on Turkana IV, Tasha Yar had seen more than her share of carnage and death. As such, she considered herself at least somewhat hardened to the callous brutality that could be inflicted by supposedly intelligent beings upon one another, either in battle or in the simple withholding of urgently needed medical a.s.sistance.

That strength, forged and honed within an environment of incessant chaos and cruelty, was shaken by the scene unfolding in what pa.s.sed for the Kovmar's infirmary.

"You can wait outside," said Doctor Ialona Daret, the elderly Carda.s.sian waving with one hand to the pair of security guards who had escorted Crusher and Yar from the ship's hangar bay.

One of the guards-the higher-ranking of the pair if Yar's interpretation of their uniform insignia was correct-shook his head. "Gul Edal's orders are for us to remain with the humans at all times, Doctor." Yar noted the derision in the soldier's voice as he addressed the physician.

Daret pointed to a far corner of the room. "You can remain with them just as easily from over there and out of my way." To Yar's surprise, the guards appeared relieved at the prospect of maintaining some distance from Daret and his patients.

Not that she could blame them.

It was the smell that caught her attention as she and Doctor Crusher were escorted into the room. A sharp sting a.s.sailed her nostrils from what she guessed was disinfectant, trying yet failing to cloak the stench of festering wounds and expelled body waste. Breathing through her mouth, Yar found it easy to ignore the fetid smells as she focused instead on the sight of the wounded Starfleet officers.

"It's good to see you again, Beverly," Daret said as he gripped Crusher's hand in his own. "I only wish it was for better reasons. I would have met you when you came aboard, but I did not want to leave them any longer than absolutely necessary."

"Have their conditions changed since your last report?" Crusher asked, opening the trauma kit and extracting a medical tricorder and diagnostic scanner.

Daret shook his head. "No, thankfully. They're stabilized, but as you can see, my resources here are limited."

"His lung damage is even worse than I thought," Crusher said, studying her tricorder's display as she waved a diagnostic scanner over Weglash. "Third-degree burns along the primary bronchi." She nodded toward the obviously makeshift breathing mask suspended over the ensign's face. "That doesn't look like standard Carda.s.sian medical equipment."

"It's not," Daret replied. "His original breather was damaged, but I was able to synthesize an approximation of the gas mixture, combining it with an inhalant to help with the damage to his lungs."

"What about these?" Yar asked, pointing to the status monitors mounted above each patient's bed. They appeared rudimentary compared to those in the Enterprise's sickbay, though the equipment's relative capability did not seem to be an issue as none of it was activated.

"They were useless," Daret said, his voice laced with guilt as he indicated the monitors with a wave of his hand. "The ship's medical database is out of date when it comes to many non-Carda.s.sian physiologies." He shook his head, his expression turning to disgust . "All these years at war with the Federation and despite the efforts of numerous physicians who've been forced to treat prisoners, our government has allowed almost none of the knowledge acquired in those instances to be retained."

"I suppose that's one indication of how serious the Carda.s.sians are about any peace treaty," Crusher said. Eyeing Daret, she offered a small, grim smile. "Present company excepted, of course." Completing her initial examination of Weglash, she turned from the patient bed and moved to Commander Spires, continuing her rapid triage. "Tasha, help replace Weglash's respirator and start the new vapor mixture."

Opening the case she had carried with her from the shuttlecraft, Yar searched through its a.s.sortment of medical supplies until she identified the vapor device and the fist-sized pressure cylinder Crusher had requested. She affixed one to the other and handed the a.s.sembly to Daret, already feeling overwhelmed and out of place as the two doctors quickly fell into an efficient rhythm. According to Crusher, it had been several years since their last correspondence, but their actions made it seem as though the physicians worked together every day.

The sound of the infirmary doors opening caught her attention, and Yar turned to see another Carda.s.sian entering the room. Like most of his kind, he was tall and brawny, with large, muscled arms and legs evident even beneath the hard segmented plates of his brown uniform.

"Glinn Malir," Daret said, looking up from where he stood next to where Crusher now was examining Lieutenant T'Lan. "A pleasant surprise, seeing you here." Yar recognized the new arrival's name as that of the Kovmar's second-in-command, and she noted the slight yet still perceptible trace of sarcasm lacing the Carda.s.sian physician's greeting.

Malir nodded, remaining near the door with his hands clasped behind his back. His eyes moved, taking in everything in the room, then narrowing as they focused on Yar. "It's my understanding," he said, "that officers in Starfleet's medical and science branches are designated with blue as one of their uniform colors, whereas gold is usually worn by their engineers and security personnel." The words sounded almost playful, though his expression remained neutral, and Yar felt a slight chill as his eyes regarded her with wanton interest. "You do not strike me as an engineer."

"What the h.e.l.l happened to her?" Crusher's voice was loud and sharp, cutting off Yar's attempted reply. "Some of these injuries are more recent than the crash." She leveled a harsh glare at Malir. "What did you do to her?"

With a casual air that Yar found irritating, the first officer shrugged. "She sustained some damage while resisting the efforts of security personnel charged with restraining her. It is an unfortunate consequence."

"Why was she being restrained by security at all?" Yar asked, already knowing the answer. "You interrogated her, didn't you?"

"She was questioned," Malir countered, malice now creeping into his voice. "Standard procedure when dealing with spies and other enemy combatants."

"Even though she required medical attention for her injuries sustained in the crash?" Crusher asked. She looked to Daret. "Is this true?"

Daret nodded. "Unlike the others, her injuries were not life threatening. Gul Edal ordered the interrogation ended when he learned of it." He cast his eyes downward. "But by then it was too late."

"You're d.a.m.ned right it was," Crusher snapped. "She's sustained a cerebral hemorrhage and there's blood in the surrounding cerebrospinal fluid." She leveled another withering stare at Malir. "One of her molar teeth is missing. You didn't waste any time with that bit of idiocy, did you?"

Yar knew of the Carda.s.sian Union's practice of collecting for the purposes of identification the first molar of all citizens prior to their entering adolescence. The distasteful measure was also exacted on non-Carda.s.sians when taken into custody.

"Again, standard procedure, Doctor," Malir replied, and Yar heard the first hint of annoyance. "We each have our respective duties to perform. I suggest you see to yours, rather than worrying about mine."

Shaking her head in disgust, Crusher turned to Daret. "Ialona, we need to start prepping for surgery right now."

"That is," Yar said, glowering at Malir, "unless you plan to question her again."

"Tasha," Crusher said, and Yar heard the warning in the single spoken word.

For the first time, Malir frowned. It was clear that he was unaccustomed to being addressed in this manner. His eyes narrowed, boring into her, and Yar was certain she saw anger and determination there. He was dangerous, she decided, particularly if provoked.

Easy, her inner voice cautioned, though her body tensed as Malir stepped forward.

"As it is obvious that you are neither a doctor nor an engineer, perhaps I should question you, to determine your true ident.i.ty and reason for being here."

"No, thank you," Yar said, feeling her pulse quickening. "I like all my teeth where they are."

Malir was fast-very fast. He lunged forward, raising his right arm. She registered the movement, but by then instinct had taken over and she stepped into the attack, her left hand blocking his arm before it could complete its downswing. Knowing the Carda.s.sian had the advantage in weight and strength, Yar wasted no time following the hasty defensive movement with something more aggressive.

"Tasha!"

She heard Crusher's cry but ignored it. Gripping Malir's arm at the wrist, Yar shifted her weight and pivoted to her left, carrying his body across her hip and dropping him to the metal deck plating. She heard the Carda.s.sian's forceful exhalation as he slammed into the deck, the impact echoing in the crowded infirmary. She twisted his wrist, eliciting a sharp cry of surprise and pain.

"Do not move!"

She looked up to see the security guards moving toward her. One of them had drawn his disruptor pistol and was pulling it up to aim at her, giving Yar only a moment to consider the notion that she should have taken Malir's own sidearm when she had the chance.

Commander Riker would never let me live that down.

"Stop."

Though the single word was spoken with relative calm and restraint, there was no mistaking the commanding presence behind it. Coming from directly behind her, it made Yar flinch-and had a similar effect on the guards, both of whom halted their advance. The Carda.s.sian who had brandished his weapon promptly lowered it and both guards turned their attention to the new arrival. Yar did likewise and immediately recognized the speaker's wizened countenance.

Gul Edal.

"Glinn Malir," the Kovmar's commanding officer said, the infirmary lighting playing off the gray in his otherwise dark, backswept hair as he stepped farther into the room and allowed the doors to close behind him. "I trust there is an explanation for this disruption?" The gul's voice was low and raspy, whether a sign of age or some unidentified health issue, Yar could not surmise. He moved slowly but retained the confidence of an experienced, even comfortable commander.

Yar stepped to her right as Malir pulled himself to his feet, making no attempt to straighten or brush his uniform. Fury burned behind his dark eyes, not merely at having his attack thwarted but also, she suspected, that his attempt at retaliation had been interrupted by the superior officer's appearance.

"Gul Edal," Malir began but stopped when Edal raised a hand and shook his head.

"Wait outside, please," the gul said before nodding to the pair of security guards and adding, "You join him." He moved past Malir to where Crusher and Daret still stood, their faces bearing matched expressions of surprise.

Emitting a grunt too low for Edal to hear but audible to Yar, Malir tugged on his heavy tunic. "We will finish this later," he hissed, glowering at her as he pa.s.sed her on his way to the doors with the guards following behind him. Not until they closed did Yar allow herself to exhale in relief.

I should have gone into stellar cartography.

"Doctor Crusher," Edal said, his hands at his sides as he addressed her, "it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, though I do regret the dire circ.u.mstances that have prompted our meeting." Nodding to Lieutenant T'Lan, he asked, "Have you had sufficient time to examine your patients?"

Yar saw the uncertainty in Crusher's eyes as she reached up to brush a lock of dark red hair from her eyes. "All three will need emergency surgery for the most serious injuries. I can perform that here and stabilize them for transport, but they need better care facilities than you're able to provide. The Enterprise sickbay will do, but a starbase would be better."

"Then we shall endeavor to get you on your way with all due haste," Edal replied. Turning to Yar, he added, "I apologize for my second's behavior, Lieutenant. Rest a.s.sured it will not happen again."

Yar was not so foolish as to be taken in by the gul's apparent civility. Still, she was forced to admit, there was something in the Carda.s.sian's eyes-weariness, perhaps even guilt-that implored her to believe him.

Oldest trick in the book, she mused. Even if he's on the level, Malir's probably the type who gets in trouble for disobeying orders.

Watching Edal leave the infirmary, Yar pushed aside her thoughts of unease. Doctor Crusher might need her help as she prepared for surgery, and she would not benefit from a distracted a.s.sistant.

"Have you taken leave of your senses?" Edal asked, barely waiting until he and Malir had stepped out of earshot of the guards positioned outside the infirmary doors. He was mindful to keep his voice low so that it would not carry down the narrow corridor. As with most common areas of Galor-cla.s.s warships, this pa.s.sageway of the Kovmar lacked sound-suppression paneling, requiring one to stand in close proximity to a companion in order to talk at a reasonable volume. Conduits for ventilation, plumbing, and power distribution were visible overhead and below the deck's metal grating, contributing enough background noise to mask the Carda.s.sian officers' conversation.

Though Malir had taken a moment to compose himself, Edal still saw the harnessed fury burning in his second-in-command's eyes. "She was insolent, and in front of subordinates. They both were. I cannot allow that sort of challenge to my authority."

"I witnessed the exchange," Edal replied. "It was an excellent demonstration of articulating your position."

Bristling, Malir released a sharp exhalation. "She's definitely not a nurse."

"Of course she's not," Edal replied, unable to help the small laugh that escaped his lips. "She is the Enterprise's chief of security. I'm surprised you did not consult the intelligence briefings once the humans identified themselves prior to coming aboard. I had no doubt Captain Picard would send someone capable of protecting Doctor Crusher." He had expected nothing less from the Federation flagship's commander. Jean-Luc Picard, a well-respected officer by all accounts, was renowned in Carda.s.sian intelligence circles for his military prowess as well as diplomatic accomplishments. For him to allow his chief medical officer to venture into enemy territory spoke volumes about the trust he placed in her, as well as the esteem in which Crusher herself held Ialona Daret.

I only hope such faith is not wasted.

"All the more reason to keep them both under watch," Malir said. "A security chief makes for a capable spy."

"They're not here to spy," Edal said, "and if they were, there is nothing here for them to learn. We are but a single ship, tasked with no mission of great import. Besides, are our governments not at this moment negotiating for peace? Allowing the humans here to treat their comrades, particularly at this critical time, cannot help but be viewed as a cooperative venture ill.u.s.trating how our peoples can work together."

Malir shook his head. "It seems like such a waste, much like those endless peace talks. We can defeat the Federation. All we require is for our leaders to stop wavering in their support of the military and provide us what we need to secure victory."

Again, Edal smiled, though he felt no humor. Much of the same pa.s.sion and ambition that once had driven him was visible in Malir's eyes. That fire was long extinguished, snuffed out by years of unremitting conflict with numerous peoples who disagreed-sometimes vehemently-with the notion of living under Carda.s.sian rule. While he once had shared beliefs similar to those harbored by his younger counterpart, age and experience had made Edal weary of war, teaching him that reality rarely conformed to such stark perceptions.

"We have been at odds with the Federation since I was a child, Malir," he said. "After all that time and despite our best efforts, we have achieved little more than a stalemate, and at what cost? Worlds stripped of resources in order to support the war, entire populations dying for simple lack of food and medicines. Our civilization wavers on the brink of collapse. No, my friend, peace is the better course."

Grunting more in acknowledgment than approval, Malir said, "If our leaders decide as much, then I'll obey. Until then, are we not better served by maintaining our vigilance, seizing every advantage and allowing no quarter until an accord is reached?" He nodded toward the infirmary doors. "They may possess valuable information about their ship and its orders, something we can exploit."

"I granted them safe pa.s.sage," Edal said, checking himself as he realized his voice was loud enough to be heard by the guards still posted before the infirmary entrance. "I gave my word to Daret," he continued in a softer tone. "The humans will be allowed to treat their patients and leave in peace."

"And what of Central Command?" Stepping closer, Malir's next words were little more than a hissed whisper. "You have no authorization for this action. How do you think they'll react when they learn of this? What of the crew? Many will see this as treason."

"I will see to Central Command," Edal snapped. "As for the crew, they will follow my orders. Your concern is seeing that they do so." He knew that his decision to let the human prisoners receive Starfleet aid was an unpopular, even risky proposition, which was the reason he had acted without first seeking clearance from his superiors.

"Malir," he said after a moment, "we have a duty to act in the best interests of the Carda.s.sian people. Bringing the humans here is consistent with that duty, even if you don't realize it at this moment."

Though he may not have been satisfied with that answer, Malir offered a formal nod. "Very well, Gul Edal. I only hope you've not made a grave mistake."

"Should that prove the case, then I will endure the consequences," Edal said, tiring of the conversation and deciding that he had indulged his subordinate long enough. "Return to your station." To his credit, Malir said nothing else, instead turning and walking away and leaving Edal to stand alone in the corridor.

Closing his eyes, the gul found himself listening as he frequently did to the steady thrum of the Kovmar's engines, feeling their power reverberate through every surface of the ship. It always comforted Edal to hear the vessel's steady pulse of life, and he now allowed that gentle rhythm to ease his momentary irritation.

When he opened his eyes, he saw the security guards regarding him. Their expressions were unreadable, though he sensed in them the same doubt Malir had voiced. Was their uncertainty but a representation of the crew's? Had he made a mistake? If so, what cost would that blunder exact?

Such questions would demand answers, Edal knew, one way or another.