Tents just outside the makeshift hospital served as patient wards. Nurses—and some civilians pressed into nursing duty—kept a constant watch on patients. "We don't have any monitoring equipment," Weinstein said. "We have to take temperature and pulses, watch input/output, and so forth. It's like medical science has retreated three hundred years." He paused. "But you know what? I actually think the patients are getting better faster. The personal touch seems to count for something."
"Perhaps the subject is worthy of study," said Spock. "But, Doctor, such medical care is labor-intensive—that is, the techniques require the work of a great many people to replace the machines you do not have. From where do you draw your staff?"
"We lucked out," Weinstein said. "There's a big medical equipment plant on the northern edge of town. A lot of their stuff's useless to us here—a lot of it's electronic, and we don't have the power to run it—but the plant's staffed by personnel who know what sanitary means. That gave us a pool of hundreds of people to draw from for nursing and other purposes. I had enough people to set up auxiliary medical tents here and there around the park, so people wouldn't have to go too far for help."
"It is quite fortunate, Doctor, that the plant was so close to hand," Spock observed.
"More than that, Mr. Spock," Weinstein said. "I was in the plant at the time of the explosion. We were taking a tour of the facilities. I'm a professor of diagnostic medicine at the Complex med school, south of town—although I gather the school's not there any longer. I was with a group of my students on a field trip—"
Suddenly Spock knew with a sure and entirely illogical instinct that she was nearby. "Miss McCoy!" he called, startling Weinstein and the four from the Columbus. "Joanna McCoy! Are you here?"
Not too far away a head turned, searching.
"Oh, yes, that's Joanna," Weinstein said. "Tireless young woman; she's been working like a dog. How do you know her?"
Spock had never met Joanna McCoy, but he'd taken the precaution of seeing a picture of her before he'd left the Enterprise. She clearly looked like McCoy's daughter—her smile marked her as such without hope of appeal—but she was a softer McCoy, pretty without glamour. "Thank God she doesn't look like me," Spock had heard Bones McCoy say once, but she did.
Now she looked tired. Her smock was streaked with dirt and blood; she badly needed some rest, a shower, and two or three meals. Her nails were broken. She was wearing one earring; the other was missing. Her skirt was ripped. She looked as if she wished she could brush her teeth.
She looks magnificent, thought Spock in a detached way.
Joanna McCoy had been wrapping an elderly woman's leg wound with sterilized rags. An open medikit lay on the ground. As Spock approached, Joanna finished the job, spoke quietly to the woman, and directed two young men nearby—the woman's sons, perhaps—to pick her up gently and take her to the boathouse for observation. Then she rose, stood straight, and looked for whoever it was that had been calling her.
She spotted the Vulcan right away; her eyes quickly found the ship's insigne on Spock's blue shirt, and the similar insignia on the shirts of the four with the Vulcan. She smiled widely. "The Enterprise!" she exclaimed. She read the commander's stripes on Spock's sleeves and said, "You must be Mr. Spock. My father's written me about you. I'm Joanna McCoy."
Joanna was polite; she offered the Salute, which Spock returned. "Live long and prosper, Miss McCoy." Spock performed the introductions to Chekov and the others.
"Is my father with you?" She looked past Spock for him.
"No. He chose to remain aboard the ship, for now. He had pressing duties there. I also believe he is undergoing emotional distress concerning your fate."
"Oh, poor Daddy," Joanna fretted. She frowned just like her father, and Spock was again struck by the resemblance. "He always was a worrier. Look, I'll give you a note to take back with you, if that's all right."
"I am prepared to take you up to the Enterprise, if you desire to go," Spock said. "I believe your father would be glad to see you."
"I know he would, Mr. Spock. I'd love to go. But I can't leave here now; there's just too much for me to do. Do you understand?"
"Perfectly, Miss McCoy, and I think your father will understand as well." Spock paused. "You do him great honor."
Spock soon had a note, scrawled hastily by Joanna to her father. Now Saul Weinstein gave him a list of desperately needed medical supplies. "If you don't have something, I'll try and make do with something else," Weinstein said. "But I need something."
Spock scanned the list quickly. "I believe we have everything you require, Doctor, although not in the quantity needed to service a great number of people."
"So I'll make do," Weinstein shrugged. "Something is better than nothing, nu? I'll be grateful for anything you and your people can do for us, Mr. Spock."
Spock bowed his head slightly in polite appreciation.
Connie Iziharry spoke up. "Mr. Spock?"
"Yes, Nurse?"
"Requesting permission to remain behind on detached duty," she stated formally. "I think I can do some good here." Weinstein's eyes lit with greed at the thought of a Starfleet nurse in his makeshift hospital. Chekov's eyes told another story.
Spock nodded his permission. "Dr. Weinstein, I believe the Enterprise has just made its first contribution to your efforts here. As for the rest of us, we'll be going. I expect we'll be back with your supplies before very long."
"Till then, Mr. Spock," Weinstein said, and saluted in the Vulcan manner.
As Spock, Rawlings and Hudson headed for Columbus, Chekov hung behind. "Connie," he said, fumbling for words, "be safe. Be vell."
"I will, Pavel." She stood quietly, close to him. Her eyes were very large, dark and deep. So beautiful, Chekov thought as he kissed her … and then he spun away and was gone from her, double-timing it to the open hatch of the shuttle.
Soon they were home again; Chekov cut power to the engines, and Columbus settled to the deck.
"Landed, Mr. Spock," Chekov reported. "Landing deck pressurized; engine shut down. Open the hatch at your pleasure, sir."
"Thank you, Ensign." Spock paused. "Gentlemen, you have comported yourselves on this mission in the finest traditions of the fleet. I will be pleased to note same on your service records. I appreciate your efforts." The Vulcan left the shuttle, followed by the other three.
"Landing deck officer!" Spock called out. An orange-garbed woman came trotting over. "Yes, sir?"
"I trust the transporters are still non-functional?"
"That's correct, sir."
"This list, then." Spock handed it to her. "Please have Stores load the items on it, in the quantities specified, onto Columbus. I want to leave as soon as possible. After we leave, refill the list; we'll be shuttling supplies to the surface until further notice."
"Aye, aye, sir. Overhaul and fueling routine for the shuttle, Mr. Spock?"
"Refueling and a routine engine check will do. Have it done as the cargo is being loaded aboard. I do not have very much time."
"Very well, sir." The LDO ran off, Weinstein's list in her hand. Spock headed for the turbolift, followed by Chekov, Rawlings and Hudson. "Mr. Rawlings, Mr. Hudson, you're returned to normal duty. Report to Mr. Scott. Mr. Chekov, secure some refreshment; we'll be leaving again shortly."
The turbolift doors squeaked closed as Spock grasped the manual override handle.
Spock found Bones McCoy in Sickbay, treating a Security lieutenant, the victim of a loosened ceiling panel which had fallen on his head. "You're my last patient of the day," McCoy told the redshirt. "Keep that bandage on for four hours, and you'll be fine."
"Thanks, Doctor." The Security man noticed Spock standing there; McCoy followed his gaze. The doctor's face went cold. The Security man left.
McCoy spoke quickly, but without emotion. He was pale. "Go ahead, Mr. Spock. It's about Joanna. It's all right. Tell me." He closed his eyes.
"Safe and well, Doctor," Spock said. "She sent you a note." He h
eld it out.
McCoy opened his eyes after a moment. "She's all right?" There was a look of disbelief on his face … but he was regaining his color.
"Perfectly well, Doctor. She was unhurt in the explosion. She was in another part of the city." Spock rapidly gave McCoy the details. "She trusted you would understand her desire to remain at the emergency medical care facility."
McCoy blinked. "Yes, yes … of course." The doctor unfolded the note from Joanna and began reading. His eyes misted, and he blinked more rapidly. Spock watched him struggle for control. I know that feeling well, Doctor, the Vulcan thought. Draw strength from me, if you need it.
After a moment McCoy looked up; his eyes were dry, and there was a hint of the doctor's accustomed wry expression. "She's all right, all right," McCoy said. "She called me an 'old poop' in the note and told me to get my butt down there."
"I can oblige you, Doctor. Mr. Chekov and I are leaving for the facility again shortly."
"Let me pack a few things, tell M'Benga he's on duty, and I'll be right with you—just as soon as I check in with our lady captain."
McCoy was silent as Columbus departed the Enterprise. He was silent as Chekov smoothly piloted the shuttle safely through the upper atmosphere of the planet, through a sky now free of the threat of ground-to-space missiles. He remained silent as Columbus swiftly fell toward Founders Park and the cleared area behind the boathouse.
Chekov landed without a bump and cracked the hatch from his board. "Thank you both," McCoy said quietly. He grabbed his personal kit. "See you later." Spock and Chekov watched him go.
McCoy swung his kit over his shoulder and began looking around. She knew I was coming, he said to himself as he marched through the crowd, stepping over people and narrowly avoiding collisions with others. He moved more and more quickly. She'd stay close to the landing area, I know she would. She never liked our being apart. She was always right there at the Starfleet arrival gate whenever I'd come home to see her. She's here somewhere.
And then there was a cry, as there had so often been before. "Daddy! Over here!"
She was standing there, tall and proud and alive … and waving to him. She was the most beautiful thing McCoy had ever seen. His vision blurred with the sight.
He pushed his way quickly through the crowds separating them. They met together in a mass of people.
McCoy dropped his personal kit and hugged his daughter fiercely. "Hiya, Squirt," he said softly.
"You big mushball," Joanna said mock-scornfully, too low for anyone but McCoy to hear. "Don't get s-s-sloppy on me … Oh, Daddy, I'm so glad to see you …" She sniffled.
And then it was finally too much for Bones McCoy, all the worry and the waiting and the conviction that she was dead, and in all that time he had not broken. But now that she was safe and well and in his arms, he hugged his daughter fiercely, sobbing unashamedly with the relief and joy that filled his heart and soul, and he did not care who saw him cry.
Chapter Eighteen:
McIverton
"SULU! SULU! WAKE up, dammit!"
Kirk had been trying to rouse the unconscious lieutenant for several minutes. Sam Cogley had left to bring his flitter around to the front of the Hilton Inn West; he was probably already waiting downstairs.
The captain turned Sulu over. He peeled back one of the helmsman's eyelids; the pupil of his eye was dilated. He's been drugged! thought Kirk. What the hell was he doing last night, anyway?
Kirk went into Sulu's bathroom to get a glass of cold water and saw the note, the dropped glass, and the empty packet. Instantly Kirk realized what had happened—and that made matters all the more pressing. It's that bastard Burke, Kirk thought savagely. I'll settle his score later.
Obviously the plan Kirk and Cogley had come up with—Kirk and Sulu to claim urgent business aboard the Enterprise, pick up Galileo, leave McIverton, head for Gregory's Landing, and pick up the five Leaguers—would not work. Burke (or his men) had done this to Sulu, and they'd be watching.
Kirk heard the phone ring in his room next door. That's probably Sam, Kirk said to himself. Please, Sam, use the brains God gave a goose and call Sulu!
Sulu's phone rang. Kirk sighed with relief and thumbed the ANSWER button; Cogley's face swam into view.
"No time, Sam," Kirk said quickly. "Roof pad. Now!" Kirk cleared the circuit. Now to get Sulu the hell out of here. I hope to God there is a flitterpad on the roof.
Kirk opened the door. No one was in sight in the hallway. If I were a cop, where would I hide? Five meters down the hallway, on the opposite side, was a door marked LAUNDRY. That's where.
Kirk dropped to all fours and crept down the hall. He arrived at the laundry chute door, came to a crouch, backed up a bit, and then quickly twisted the knob and yanked the door open. He didn't wait to see who or what was inside; he simply lashed up and out at where he thought a man's jaw would most likely be.
He connected the first time and made his second punch count. The man inside the laundry chute room slumped to the floor. Kirk caught him before his head hit the tiles. After another look up and down the hall, Kirk dragged the man into Sulu's room and quietly closed the door.
Kirk searched him. Two phasers—good. I can use the clothes, too. There's probably another one or two watching the elevators, maybe more on the roof. The captain stripped the man efficiently, down to his shorts; he took off his own Starfleet uniform and put on the man's suit. It didn't fit very well. He went through the man's wallet. Internal Security agent, of course; badge and photo card. Pair of sunglasses. Good, because I can't find the ones Hayes gave me yesterday. Thirteen pounds platinum in the wallet, no Federation money; several charge cards, identification card for the Knights of Columbus, organ donor card, phaser permit signed by Burke himself. Kirk had been hoping the agent was carrying something really good, such as a brace of stun bombs or a couple of gas grenades. Well, I'll have to make do.
Kirk dressed the agent in his uniform; it fit him as badly as his suit fit Kirk. He left the agent where he was, face down on the floor. I wonder how many guys they've got out there? Kirk wondered.
He opened the door and pitching his voice low, shouted, "Got 'em. Bring the cuffs!" Then he stood behind the open door and waited, phaser drawn and set for stun.
He didn't have to wait long. Two more agents came to the open door, saw Sulu unconscious on the bed and (presumably) the captain out cold on the floor, and stepped into the room. Kirk fired; the agents dropped. He crouched and peeked around the doorsill, phaser ready; no one was in the hallway.
Kirk rolled both agents; one of them (the chief of detail? Kirk hoped so) had a communicator. His boss is near here. Otherwise the thing wouldn't work, what with all the tachyonic interference.
What he didn't know was Burke's whereabouts. I can't believe he's not around here somewhere. Hmmm. If I were Burke, where would I be? Kirk decided he'd be on the roof, phaser in hand, ready to cut off a last-ditch escape attempt.
And that was precisely where Kirk hoped Cogley was headed. All right—then he'd have to rescue Cogley, too.
Sulu was still out. Kirk hurriedly stripped one of the two agents and pulled his clothes on over Sulu's; dressing a limp body was a tough, clumsy job. After a little thought, Kirk de-pants'd the other agent as well; it might slow him up a bit when he came around.
The captain now had four phasers, one communicator set for the agents' command frequency (as well as the temporarily useless communicators he and Sulu carried), three pairs of sunglasses, three wallets full of false identification (false for Kirk, that is), and a little money—about sixty-five credits' worth, almost all of it in local pounds platinum. They ought to pay these guys more, Kirk said to himself.
If Cogley were not a factor, Kirk would simply throw Sulu over his shoulder, go to the lobby, pretend Sulu was dead drunk and call a cab. But Sam was on the roof, presumably in trouble; Kirk couldn't abandon him. Sulu was still doing a good job of pretending to be dead drunk, so Kirk amended his plan a bit, ran it throu
gh in his mind several times, and pronounced it good enough. Hell, he'd been through worse than this with a lot less in the way of resources.
Oh. One more thing. Kirk looked in the carboy next to the 3V set; the hotel had thoughtfully provided Sulu a complimentary fifth of not-very-good Scotch. It would be good enough for Kirk's purposes. He twisted the cap (making sure the tax seal was unbroken; he didn't want a piece of Sulu's problem), took a mouthful and swished it around. Errrkkkkk, he thought. Awful! He spit it out in the bathroom sink, rinsed it, came back out, and sprinkled some of the Scotch on Sulu. Then he did the same to himself. Sniffff. All right …
Kirk took Sulu in an over-the-shoulders carry and, grunting a little, opened the door. The hallway was still clear; Kirk lurched to the elevators with his burden.
Kirk met a nice elderly couple in the elevator. He grinned sloppily at them, sniffed, and minded his own business. I'm not an obnoxious kind of drunk, he told himself. They leave me alone, I leave them alone.
But they didn't leave him alone. "Young man," the old woman said.
"Yesh, ma'am, that'ss me," Kirk agreed, nodding pleasantly.
"Young man, don't you think it's rather early in the day for this sort of behavior?" She looked coldly at Kirk while she ignored her husband's sleeve-pulling.
Kirk leered at her. "Thash okay, ma'am; me 'n my frien' here, we shtarted lash night. Hav'n't been to bed yet. Well, he hash." He giggled.
The elevator stopped at 14, and the old couple exited, she with a cold stare at Kirk, and the old man with an apologetic look his wife did not see. Kirk winked at him and did his best to smile hazily.
The doors closed and Kirk hit the button for the top floor. As the elevator rose, Sulu grunted. "Sulu?" Kirk called.
Sulu grunted again.
"Oh my God, Sulu. I hope you're not going to be sick."
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