“Hardly.” Janeway assessed herself. Her muscles complained, no doubt a reaction to her rigor, but otherwise she felt fine. “I’ve never experienced anything like that before.”
“Oh, dear.” Aken’s normally yellowish scales took on a distinctly pink tone. “Then perhaps it was something you ate. Please forgive me my inadequate hosting! Perhaps we should call the healer back.”
“No, no, I’m fine, really.”
“Captain.” Tuvok regarded her levelly. “It would seem a prudent course of action to have the Doctor examine you.”
He’s probably right. For a minute there, I was sure I was going to die. “Sage advice as always, my friend. Aken, my apologies to you, and to your staff, but—”
“Of course, of course, do not apologize. Guard your health.”
“Anaphylactic shock,” summarized the Doctor succinctly. “A very nasty reaction. Definitely something you ate.” He frowned. “None of the Vashnar foodstuffs you were to consume at the banquet seemed likely to provoke such a reaction, but one can’t always predict the effects of unusual combinations.”
“I know.” Janeway nodded. “Not your fault. I should have been more careful. I was so relieved to conclude our trade with the Vashnar successfully, I suppose I let my guard down.”
He lowered the sides of the diagnostic bed. “At any rate, [340] you’re fine now. I’ll administer an antiinflammatory to deal with the residual muscle soreness. What did the Vashnar treat you with?”
She sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed. “Well, Doctor—”
The corners of his mouth turned down in disapproval. “You didn’t ask.” He folded his arms. “Captain, I’ve instructed you, and all the crew, to make absolutely sure that you—”
She held up a hand to ward off the tirade. “They didn’t treat me with any medicine at all.”
His brows bunched together over his nose. “Then perhaps they used a psychotropic ritual dance? Minosian healing chants? Or did they pray over you? I’ve certainly heard of the healing power of prayer, but in a case of anaphylactic shock—”
The captain sighed, and the Doctor stopped. She eyed him, trying to discern even a hint of sarcasm, but he held his tongue, his face smoothly impassive.
“I was healed,” she continued.
There was a pause. “You were healed. Go on.”
“By a healer.”
“By a healer,” he invited gamely. “Please continue.”
“I don’t know any more than that. A humanoid woman healed me, it seems. A member of a race called the Anjurwan. Third Counselor Devar told me they were brought to this system three generations ago by a race from the Alpha Quadrant, the Vians. That could mean that the Anjurwan come from the Alpha Quadrant as well. I was hoping you might be able to tell me more,”
“The Anjurwan,” he mused, his forehead still corrugated. [341] “The Vians. I don’t believe so, Captain. But I’ll do some checking.”
The Doctor leaned back in his chair, switching off the screen on his desktop computer console. He tapped his combadge. “Doctor to the captain.”
“Janeway here. What do you have, Doctor?”
He let his frustration show in his voice. “Virtually nothing. There is exactly one reference to ‘Vians’ in the database. The same reference mentions a race that might be the Anjurwan. And it’s remarkably uninformative. It’s amazing what the medical officers of the last century thought of as a useful—”
“You said they ‘might’ be the Anjurwan. What do you mean?”
“You didn’t say the Anjurwan are mutes.”
“Mutes?” She thought about it. “You know, I never heard one of them speak. They might very well be.”
The Doctor sighed. “I see.” Half to himself, he added, “If you want something done, you have to do it yourself. Captain,” he continued, raising his voice, “I’ll go down to the planet and see if I can learn any more about the Anjurwan and this, ah, healing they seem to do.”
“You will.”
“It might be useful if you—” He paused, belatedly noting the warning tone in her voice. “With your permission, Captain.”
“I’ll be returning to the planet’s surface in thirty minutes, Doctor. I’m as curious about all this as you are. Meet me in transporter room two.”
“Of course.”
* * *
[342] “And so,” concluded Third Counselor Devar, “when the Vians departed, we embraced the Anjurwan. It frightened them to be abandoned so, especially since it seems their former homeworld was destroyed when their star went nova. We believe they feared another cataclysm.”
“But how do you know?” Janeway wondered. “If they don’t have the power of speech, as you say, then how do you communicate with them?”
“A form of sign. A very simple language we developed ourselves. But it hardly seems necessary, most of the time. The Anjurwan devote themselves to those they serve, and it is the focus of their existence to sense—without words—what is needed. Ah, here we are. The Sanctuary of the Healing Arts. This is the finest Sanctuary on Vashnar,” he added proudly, ushering Janeway and the Doctor through the white stone archway into a courtyard.
The lines of the Sanctuary were beautiful. They do indeed cherish their healers, don’t they? mused Janeway appreciatively. She repeated Devar’s statement, sharing a glance with the Doctor. “ ‘To sense without words’? Can you explain, Third Counselor?”
He puffed out his chest. “Of course. To be concise, the Anjurwan are empaths. The finest, most sensitive empaths that we have ever encountered.”
“Empaths? They sense emotions?” asked the Doctor.
“Yes, but it’s far more than that. If an Anjurwan knows you well, he or she might as well read your mind. They are supremely sensitive.”
“And they heal through empathy?” The EMH frowned. “I don’t see—”
[343] “Well, those who are healers do,” interrupted Devar. “As is the case for any talent, the strength of the gift varies. Only one in twenty can heal, Doctor, and only one in a hundred is as skilled as the healer who saved your captain. They are highly prized. But here,” he continued, stepping through a second archway inside the courtyard, “here is Doctor Teth, chief physician of this Sanctuary. She will answer your questions far better than I could. Doctor, this is—what is wrong?”
Teth brushed past them, her scales bristling with tension. She headed for the outer courtyard. “No time, Devar. A medical emergency.” Two other Vashnar followed her, their expressions equally intent. Three blue-clad Anjurwan, two female and one male, brought up the rear. The blue eyes of one of the females caught and held Janeway’s for an instant, and she recognized the young woman who had saved her life.
“Oh, my.” Devar was staring after Teth, and the captain followed his gaze. Three Vashnar were being carried into the courtyard, and it was there that they were intercepted by the physicians. “Oh, my. Another accident. Fourth Counselor Ravik’s son, oh dear. Our young, they will risk their lives, thrill-seeking—”
“Thrill-seeking? Those are severe lacerations!” The Doctor started forward, unfolding his medical tricorder. “How in heaven’s name did they—” He paused. “What are they doing?”
A good question, thought Janeway. The injured Vashnar had been laid upon stone benches in the center of the courtyard. To her surprise, the three Vashnar physicians made no move toward their patients, and her questing gaze disclosed [344] no medical instruments in their hands or anywhere upon their persons. Instead, each physician took the hands of an Anjurwan and led the healer to one of the moaning young Vashnar. Their motions seemed oddly ritualistic as they turned the healers to their patients. Then they merely stood, immobile, as each of the Anjurwan knelt and seemed to assess the young Vashnar, moving their hands over the boys without touching them.
“They’re bleeding to death,” muttered the Doctor. “Aren’t you going to do anything? Are you going to let them die? Doctor Teth!” He stared into the face of the chief physician. �
�If you’re not going to help them, let me—”
Teth caught at his arm. “No. Let the healers do their work.”
Janeway took the EMH’s other arm and drew nun back. “Doctor. I’m sure they know what they’re doing. Don’t interfere.”
“Know what they’re doing? They aren’t doing anything! Are they doctors, or not?”
“Ssshh! Of course they’re doctors,” put in Devar hastily. “They focus the efforts of the healers. Look.”
“They’re standing there and watching them. If that makes someone a doctor, Mister Paris ought to be one by now, he’s spent enough time standing there watching me work. But—”
“A doctor must focus the healer. Else they might not give their all in time of need. A healer cannot function without a doctor, isn’t that obvious?”
Janeway watched in horrified fascination as the injured boys visibly weakened. One by one the Anjurwan seemed to complete their assessment and laid their hands fully on their patients.
[345] “What’s obvious is that nothing’s being done for—”
The Doctor’s voice trailed off, and Janeway knew why. Before her eyes, the wounds on the nearest young Vashnar began to close, began to fade. In seconds the wounds had vanished, and the moans of the boy trailed off.
“Captain—” murmured the Doctor in a near-whisper, his eyes flicking from the Vashnar to the healer and then to his medical tricorder, with which he scanned both. “This is incredible.”
“Look,” she murmured back. “The healer.”
Appallingly, the Vashnar’s wounds had reappeared—on the healer. Somehow the wicked lacerations seemed more horrifying on that perfect pale skin. Blood, as red as a human’s, began to ooze, and the Anjurwan woman’s head tilted back as her mouth opened in a silent scream. She drew her hands away from her patient and clutched them to her chest, panting. Teth, her silent attendant, drew a step closer; the Anjurwan, clearly aware of the Vashnar doctor, appeared to gather her strength and resolutely reached out once again to her patient.
“This is amazing. Her nervous system is actually linked to his, supporting his essential functions. She’s a complete life-support system. But it’s draining her, dangerously—she should stop—” The Doctor began to step forward again.
Teth turned on him. “Will you deny her the dignity of her calling? She is a healer. It is her soul’s desire to heal, to give herself if need be to save another. It is the highest purpose for an Anjurwan! This has been so since before they came to us. Do not interfere!”
“But she’s—” The Doctor paused, eyes intent on the results of his scan. “No, maybe not.” He looked up, seeing [346] what his captain saw—the wounds on the healer beginning to fade as they had faded from the Vashnar boy, fading right out of existence, seeming almost to wink out as they disappeared. The Doctor turned his attention again to the tricorder. “Remarkable. Her readings are stabilizing. She may be all right. No thanks to you,” he added scathingly to Teth. “You say you’re a doctor? From what I’ve seen, you’re more like a drill instructor. She did all the work.”
“Doctor,” reproved Janeway, “we only know what we’ve seen here. We’re not here to judge. Besides, they all seem to be recovering.”
The EMH pointed. “What about her?”
“Her” was the healer who had attended Janeway earlier that day. She had slid to the stone floor beside her patient’s bench and lay there immobile. The other two healers appeared exhausted but conscious and aware—the young blue-eyed woman was neither, seeming scarcely to breathe.
The doctor attending her shook his head sorrowfully. “Two healings in one day, and this one so difficult. Such a promising young healer, the best I have focused in months. Teth, we must gather the others.”
Teth nodded solemnly and moved away. The Doctor sighed in relief. “Good. They’re bringing more healers to save this one,” he noted to Janeway.
The Vashnar doctor flashed him a startled look. “Of course not. She is past saving herself. Teth will bring the others for the death ceremony.”
“Death ceremony!” Janeway stared. “What? Why will she die? Can’t another healer—”
“This healer cannot save herself.” The doctor saw the uncomprehending looks on the faces of the captain and the [347] EMH, and his sorrowful voice took on an impatient note. “She would not accept the sacrifice of another, don’t you understand? She will not take life to save her own. This is the highest moral law for a healer.”
“Surely your technology is advanced enough. Can’t you do something?” the captain asked, carefully maintaining a diplomatic tone.
“We have our healers. Healing is an art, not a science. We have grown beyond science in this, thanks to our Anjurwan.”
Flashing Janeway a look of mute appeal, the Doctor approached the motionless healer. The Vashnar eyed him with disapproval; the Anjurwan, with shock. One struggled to his feet and shook his head at the EMH, motioning him away, his green eyes imploring.
“I won’t hurt her,” the Doctor reassured the healer, his tone unusually gentle. “I want to help.”
The Anjurwan shook his head again and caught at the Doctor’s hand. His eyes went wide then, his already pale face whitening further, and he recoiled, stumbling to his knees. The EMH spared him one startled look before kneeling next to the unconscious female healer.
“Shock,” he muttered, scanning her with his tricorder. “She’s in shock. Isn’t that a surprise. Pulse thready, blood pressure falling—Captain, this is nothing I can’t treat.”
Janeway looked cautiously from one of the two remaining Vashnar physicians to the other, then cast a glance at Devar. “May he?”
The doctors shared a look of consternation. “How? Where is his healer?”
“I’m the healer. And I’ll treat her with medicine. With science,” growled the Doctor without looking up. “This is [348] hardly more than routine. Ten minutes in my sickbay, I’ll have her stabilized.”
“That would be wonderful,” blurted Devar. “Wonderful. Wouldn’t it? Doctor Kiv, wouldn’t that be better than losing your best healer?”
“This healer saved my life today,” Janeway pointed out. “Please, let my medical officer save hers. It’s only fitting.”
Kiv flashed out his tongue and flicked it thoughtfully, then nodded once. “You’re right. If your healing science can save her, let it. We will be in your debt.”
“This can’t be right,” the Doctor muttered to himself. “It’s not working.” He tapped a quick series of commands into the diagnostic bed’s control panel, and scanned the readout again. “Phenopathine is compatible with her physiology, but her blood pressure dropped. It’s as if her system—” He let the sentence trail off, and selected another hypospray from the tray atop his medcart. “All right, then let’s try angiochlorophan.”
He administered the medication and studied the readouts. The healer’s blood pressure began to rise, and the EMH smiled triumphantly. “So she responds to the beta-adrenergic costimulator, but not the—what?” He stared. “Blood pressure dropping? This is impossible! First the cardioregulator is ineffective, then the endothelial regenerator, now this! Her biochemistry is not that unusual. Why can’t I stabilize her?”
The captain’s voice spoke over the comlink. “Janeway to the Doctor.”
Grimacing in frustration, he straightened. “Doctor here, Captain.”
[349] “How is—”
“How is my patient? I suppose it’s been ten minutes already. Captain, I don’t understand it, but everything I’ve done has been ineffective. It’s as if—”
“As if what?” prodded Janeway after a moment.
He hesitated, shaking his head to himself, then voiced his growing concern. “It’s as if her system is fighting me. Undoing everything I do, almost immediately. My interventions start to take effect, and then the effects reverse and she’s left worse off than when I started. I can’t explain it.”
“Fighting you. Then you’re saying she’s dying.”
&n
bsp; The word stung him. “Not if I can help it.”
“But if she’s—”
“I know! But I think I have an idea.” As he uttered the words, he heard them with surprise. I do? What—yes. Maybe I do. “Give me more time, Captain.”
“Do you need Mister Paris? I can spare him here. I think I’ve had enough medical training to ask Doctor Teth the right questions.”
The EMH barely heard, his mind too engaged with the problem at hand. “That won’t be necessary.”
There was a pause. “All right. Keep me informed, Doctor.”
“Of course,” he acknowledged absently, eagerly chasing the stray thought down the pathways of his program. “Doctor out Computer, access file Doctor-eleven beta, ‘medical log entry from stardate 5130.8.’ Scan the log entries made by that physician for, hmm, six months following that date. Compile any additional related information.”
The computer beeped obediently. “Scanning entries, stardates 5130.8 to 5507.7, log of Doctor Leonard McCoy, chief [350] medical officer, U.S.S. Enterprise. No additional related information.”
“Nothing?” The Doctor shook his head incredulously. “Nothing else on Vians, mutes, empaths? No reference?”
“Eight references to sentient species without speech capacity. Twenty-three references to species with empathie capability. All species unrelated to current query. No additional related information.”
He stared at his near-comatose patient, noting the progressing pallor of her skin. “What about Doctor McCoy’s personal logs during that same period?”
“Personal logs are not accessible without command authorization,” the computer reminded him primly.
“Doctor to Capt—” He hesitated. There’s a faster way, isn’t there? Besides, I really could use another pair of hands here, and I don’t mean Mister Paris’s. “Computer, compile all information on Doctor Leonard McCoy up to and including the indicated time period, and generate a holographic simulation. Allow the simulation access to my medical database. I’d really like to consult with this Doctor McCoy.”
STAR TREK: Strange New Worlds II Page 29
