STAR TREK: Strange New Worlds II

by Dean Wesley Smith (Editor)

  The computer acknowledged. Five seconds later, it announced its readiness with another beep.

  “Activate holographic simulation of Doctor McCoy.”

  The air on the other side of the diagnostic bed shimmered, and a figure coalesced into being—the figure of a human male, slender and fortyish, with light brown hair and intent blue eyes. He wore a uniform so antique as to be preposterous, a blue tunic over black trousers that flared over uniform boots.

  “Doctor McCoy,” greeted the EMH in a neutral tone.

  Leonard McCoy afforded his holographic colleague a [351] startled look, then frowned slightly. “Where the heck am I?”

  “You’re in the sickbay of the starship Voyager. Please tell me what you—”

  McCoy turned to study his surroundings, squinting slightly. “Voyager, huh? Never heard of her. You sure this isn’t—”

  “Doctor!” The EMH marched around the diagnostic bed and caught McCoy’s arm. “I’ll give you the complete tour later! We have a patient!”

  McCoy focused abruptly on the motionless healer. “We do?” He touched the young woman, felt for a pulse, nodded once. “All right. What’s wrong with her?”

  “We have here an empathie healer suffering from internal bleeding and hypovolemic shock. We also have a holographic representation of a Starfleet medical officer who doesn’t see fit to record logs of any possible use to posterity. You’ve encountered this species before. Tell me what you know about them.”

  “Hold your horses just a minute. What the dickens are you talking about? This species—I don’t—” His eyes narrowed, and he took a closer look at the healer. “An empath? You mean she’s one of Gem’s people?”

  “I have no idea who Gem is. I need to know what you’ve learned about this species. She’s a member of a mute race of empaths. Does that by any chance jog your memory?”

  “It sure does. How was she injured? Did the Vians do their damned tests on her?”

  The Doctor exhaled sharply in vexation. “Do you usually conduct an inquisition while your patients deteriorate? I—”

  “I’m trying to get more information, dammit!” McCoy’s blue eyes flashed in anger. “I encountered her species once, [352] six months ago, and all I had to work with was my tricorder! I saw Gem heal Jim Kirk, and I got a sense of how she did it, but I don’t know anything about how to heal an empath. I didn’t get a chance to try.”

  The EMH stared at him. “You wouldn’t care to make a suggestion? Venture a guess? You’re supposed to be one of Starfleet’s greatest medical minds. You’re known for making intuitive leaps. An intuitive leap would be very useful right about now.”

  “All right,” agreed McCoy grudgingly. “Tell me what you’ve tried, and how she’s responded.”

  The Doctor complied, then added, “As best I can determine, her system has actively antagonized every treatment I’ve been able to devise.”

  “Antagonized,” mused McCoy. “Counteracted. You try to regenerate the vascular damage, and as fast as you repair one vein she breaks it back down. Right?”

  “Isn’t that what I just said?”

  “Don’t get testy. I’m just making sure I’m clear on this.” He touched the young healer, checking her vital signs. The Doctor offered his tricorder, but McCoy waved it away. “Don’t bother. I get the picture. What’s her name?”

  “Name?” The EMH shifted his feet uncomfortably. “I have no idea.”

  “Oh, come on. Doesn’t anyone but me name these poor folks? Well, I called the other empath Gem. Let’s call this one—Scotty said Gem was ‘a pearl of great price.’ Let’s call her Pearl.”

  “ ‘Pearl.’ Fine. Now, I’d like to—”

  “What’s your name?”

  The Doctor’s discomfort grew. “I don’t have one.”

  [353] “You haven’t got a name either? My God, what is it around here? You look a lot like my cousin Elliot. Suppose I call you—”

  “ ‘Doctor’ will do, thank you very much. Tell me everything you know about the—about Pearl’s people.”

  McCoy nodded. “All right. Here’s the short version. On stardate 5121.5, I beamed down to the second planet in the Minaran star system with Captain James Kirk and First Officer Spock. A few minutes after we got there we were, well, abducted by two members of a race who called themselves the Vians.”

  “This was all in your log entry,” interrupted the Doctor. “Tell me about Gem.”

  “We found her there. Turned out the Vians were testing her, trying to find out if her people fit some kinda criteria for survival. The Minaran sun was going nova, and the Vians could only save the people of one of its planets. What they wanted was to see if Gem had the instinct to sacrifice herself to save the life of another. So they tortured us. Kirk first, and Gem healed him, but his injuries weren’t critical. So next they, um, picked me. They were pretty rough on me. I would have died.”

  “But Gem healed you.”

  “No. She started to, but it would have killed her. I can’t take a life to save my own! I wouldn’t let her do it.”

  “You seem to have survived,” the Doctor pointed out bluntly.

  “Thanks to Jim Kirk. He—well, you could say he talked the Vians into having a conscience.”

  “A very interesting story, I’m sure, but tell me about Gem.”

  [354] McCoy pursed his lips. “When she healed Jim, her nervous system seemed to link to his, supporting his physiological functions. His wounds became hers. Then she healed them. I didn’t have a chance to get more than the vaguest idea of how she did that. I know it exhausted her.”

  “No doubt. The other healers on Vashnar, they were exhausted too. Clearly there’s a tremendous expenditure of energy.”

  “Looks like it was more than Pearl could spare.”

  “Yes.” The Doctor stared at his patient. “But you have no idea why she’s opposing my every effort to help her.”

  McCoy shook his head, but slowly. His blue eyes narrowed. “Wait a minute. When one of Pearl’s people—”

  “The Anjurwan.”

  “The Anjurwan. When they heal, they end up with the injury, and they heal themselves pretty fast You know, there’s a problem with healing too fast.”

  “I beg your pardon.”

  “Well, think about it. What if you try to perform surgery, make an incision, on someone who can heal herself that fast?”

  “She’d heal the incision instantly. Of course! I should have seen this! She’s counteracting every intervention, even if the intervention is designed to assist the healing process.” His sense of triumph in solving the puzzle faded immediately. “So no matter what I do, she’ll neutralize the effects immediately.”

  “Well,” McCoy pointed out grimly, “until she dies.”

  The Doctor began to circle the diagnostic bed, thinking furiously. “I need a treatment that won’t disturb the natural homeostasis of her system. Something to at least restore her energy reserves. If she’s opposing my efforts, then she can still heal herself.”

  [355] “Something like tetraadenylate phosphotropin.”

  “Not with her reduced hepatic function. I’ll try monoacetic cyclostatin.” Decisively, the EMH picked up the proper cartridge and slapped it into a hypospray.

  “That’s another good choice,” allowed McCoy. Once the medication was administered, he scanned Pearl’s sensor readings anxiously. “It’s working. She’s rallying a little.”

  “Yes—but not much. And I don’t dare increase the dose.” The EMH frowned. “Now what? She’s still bleeding internally. And if I increase her coagulation rate, and she opposes that, then—”

  “Then you’ll lose her.”

  The Doctor stared darkly across the diagnostic bed. “Yes. I don’t suppose you can manage to be a little more positive. That’s twice now you’ve—”

  “Positive? I’m a ray of sunshine on a Georgia morning. My mama always said so.” McCoy bent over Pearl, studying her, then lowered the sides of the clamshell bed and took the healer’s
hand. “She’s so cold.”

  “Of course she’s cold. Can’t you read a sensor? Her body temperature is—”

  McCoy glared at him. “Can’t you hold a patient’s hand? You remind me too damned much of a Vulcan I used to know. Everything’s readings and sensors with you. That’s not all there is to medicine by an awful long shot. You ever say anything encouraging to a patient? Pat somebody on the shoulder, tell him it’s all gonna be fine? You ever heard of good old-fashioned country doctoring? A good doc, he can make somebody feel better just by being there. I’m here and I want her to know it. You might pay attention, maybe you’d—”

  [356] “Computer,” growled the EMH, “end program.”

  “—learn a thing or—” McCoy vanished.

  The Doctor stared at the space where the other hologram had been. “If I want to hear about good old doctors, I’ll call in Mister Paris. I’m sure he’d be happy to regale me with more tales of ‘good ol’ Doc Brown’ and his lollipops.”

  His combadge signaled. “Janeway to the Doctor.”

  He closed his eyes briefly, shaking his head, then answered. “Doctor here. Yes. I’ve improved Pearl’s condition slightly, Captain.”

  “Pearl?”

  “Ah—she seemed to need a name.”

  “I’ve returned to the ship. The Vashnar doctors aren’t too happy that we still have their—ah, Pearl. I had to promise them I’d check on your progress. I’ll be right there.”

  “Of course, Captain.” Good old country doctoring. I suppose I should knit her an afghan, fluff up her pillow, bring her some chicken soup. Or is it garlic soup? I think I need something a little more efficacious than soup.

  The sickbay doors swished open, and the captain strode in. “Doctor. Report.”

  He straightened, squaring his shoulders. “I was able to partially stabilize the ionic balance across her cell membranes, Captain. It’s delayed her deterioration. But she’ll still be comatose soon if I can’t do something to slow the process.”

  Janeway stared in concern at Pearl. “What’s causing the problem? Why can’t you help her?”

  “She’s & natural healer. She’s still trying to heal herself. It’s an unconscious process. I don’t know how to suspend it, and if I can’t, then—”

  [357] Janeway nodded. “I understand. But if you can’t help her, the Vashnar insist that she return to their Sanctuary for some sort of death ceremony. They’re quite adamant.” She sighed. “Pearl. It’s a good name for her.” The captain reached out to touch the healer’s bare forearm, patting it and then gripping it gently. “I wish I could help her. I owe her my—”

  Pearl’s arm twitched in Janeway’s grip, and the girl inhaled sharply. The Doctor stared as Pearl’s vividly blue eyes opened, then focused on the captain.

  Janeway shot him an urgent glance. “She’s conscious!”

  “I see that.” He picked up his tricorder. “Let me—”

  “Doctor!”

  Pearl was shaking her head, weakly pulling her arm from Janeway’s grip, her wide eyes distressed. The captain let her go. “It’s all right. Don’t be afraid, you’re safe, you’re on my ship. It’s all right.”

  Pearl stopped struggling, eyes moving from Janeway to the Doctor. She managed a weak smile.

  “Her internal bleeding has slowed, her blood pressure has nearly stabilized. This may be a delayed reaction to the cyclostatin.” The EMH smiled at his patient “You’re doing much better.” Awkwardly, he patted her shoulder.

  Pearl’s smile vanished and her eyes widened, her pupils dilating. She searched the Doctor’s face for a long moment, then suddenly recoiled, nearly falling off the bed.

  The captain caught her. “No. Don’t be afraid, it’s all right.” She tried to still the Anjurwan’s struggles. “She’s terrified. What can we do?”

  The Doctor scanned the diagnostic bed’s readouts. “I doubt we’ll have to do anything, she’s about to—”

  [358] Pearl went limp. “She’s about to lose consciousness again,” he finished dourly.

  “What happened? She seemed fine, and then you—” Janeway stopped.

  “I touched her, is that what you mean? You’re not suggesting I frightened her, are you?”

  “It did seem that way,” the captain answered carefully. “I’m not suggesting she had any reason to be afraid, but—” She paused, her face thoughtful.

  “But what?”

  “She is an empath. She’s accustomed to sensing those around her empathically. To her, you must seem only half there.”

  “Not an uncommon reaction, if the crew’s attitude four years ago is any indication,” he shot back.

  She reached out and touched his shoulder gently. “Four years ago, not now. What about Pearl? Will she recover?”

  He consulted his tricorder, double-checking the readings and then slowly shaking his head. “No. Not in her present condition. I may try another dose of cyclostatin in a few minutes.” He regarded Janeway appealingly. “Captain, I can’t give up yet. Can’t you stall the Vashnar a bit longer? Please?”

  She considered. “I can tell them the absolute truth—that she’s been conscious, and her condition has improved. That should keep them at bay for a while. But they’re going to want to see her soon.”

  “I understand. Thank you.”

  “Good luck.”

  She left, and he stared at Pearl. I’ll risk another dose of cyclostatin. That done, he watched her vital signs, frowning. [359] Nothing. She’s not fighting it, fortunately, but it’s also not helping. He considered his options, his sense of despondency growing as he realized how few and poor they were. I’ve run out of ideas. The combined medical expertise of forty-seven of Starfleet’s finest physicians, and I can’t think of a thing to do.

  Well, except for one. Much as it pains me. “Computer, activate holographic simulation of Doctor McCoy.”

  McCoy reappeared. He glared at the Doctor. “That was damned rude.”

  “If you want to criticize me, take a number. You’ll have to wait until I’m finished with myself.” The EMH strode into his office and slumped into his desk chair, staring at the blank screen of his computer console. There. That’s me. A blank screen.

  McCoy followed, his expressive face curious. “What’s wrong? I just checked Pearl. She’s a little bit better.”

  “She’s still going to die.”

  “Now who’s being negative?”

  The Doctor shot him an annoyed glance. “It’s the truth. I can’t help her.”

  “She just got better on her own?”

  “It may have been the cyclostatin. Or it may not. The captain was here, she commented that Pearl no doubt senses the others around her empathically. She may have sensed the captain, maybe she responded to that.”

  McCoy gave him a thoughtful look, then turned to gaze at Pearl. “The captain just came in? That’s all?”

  “The captain touched her, and then—” He paused. Touched her. The blank screen of his mind began to glow with those two words. “She touched Pearl. She took her arm. [360] And Pearl regained consciousness.” He looked up excitedly at McCoy. “A physical touch! That’s how the Anjurwan heal. The empathic contact is apparently only potent with a physical link. A laying on of hands, if you will. Is it possible that Pearl formed an empathie link with the captain?”

  “Why not?” McCoy’s brows contracted. “But your captain isn’t a healer, is she?”

  “No. Of course not. But if Pearl linked with her as she would for a healing, she might have been able to draw—”

  “Draw energy instead of give it! She might!” McCoy nodded eagerly. “We can test that out right now. Lay on those hands, Doc. Good old country medicine, just like I said.”

  The Doctor had been halfway out of his chair, but now he dropped back into it. When McCoy, already at Pearl’s side, turned to stare at him curiously, he shook his head.

  McCoy stepped to the door. “What the heck are you waiting for? Pearl needs you! I can’t do it, I’m a hologram. You
didn’t forget that, did you?”

  The EMH’s response was curt. “No.”

  “Then get out here and help this girl, dammit!”

  “I can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “As you just pointed out, a hologram isn’t much use when it comes to the laying on of hands.”

  The confusion on McCoy’s face slowly cleared. “Well, I’ll be. You’re a hologram, too. Huh. That explains a few things. Where’s the real doc, or doesn’t the ship have one?”

  The Doctor sighed, pained and exasperated. “It did. Don’t ask.” He stared at his hands. I can handle a hypospray, a dermal regenerator, a retinal imager. But I can’t help [361] Pearl. She needs a real doctor. A real person. And nothing I can do will ever make me real enough to help her. With her eyes closed, I’m not even here.

  He tapped his combadge. “Doctor to the captain.”

  Janeway looked in appeal from the Doctor to McCoy. “I can’t help her if she won’t let me.”

  What had seemed like the obvious solution to the problem had, to their bewilderment, failed. Once the captain and Tuvok had been briefed on the situation—to their surprise, by two medical holograms rather than one—the captain had willingly laid on her hands, with Tuvok closely monitoring the exchange. Pearl, however, had been less willing. As before, she had strengthened sufficiently to regain consciousness, then had with great distress wrestled herself away from Janeway.

  McCoy cleared his throat. “Um. I think I may have an idea about this.” He shifted uncomfortably under the combined gaze of the others. “This seems awfully familiar to me. I’m beginning to think I taught her to do this.”

  “Taught her?” Janeway exchanged a glance with the Doctor. “You weren’t here the first time.”

  “That’s just it. I was. The first time, with Gem, The empath I told you about. The Vians said we were her teachers—me, Jim Kirk, and Spock. They as much as said that she’d teach her people what she learned from us. One thing she learned from me was that a doctor—a healer—doesn’t let another healer save his life. I was dying, and I couldn’t let her die in my place, so I pushed her away. Just like she did with the captain here.”