by Jean Lorrah
Deaver felt in his shirt pockets. “Didn’t lose it!” he said in relief, and produced the scalpel with which he had cut them loose from the sinking ambulance. “Pretty dull after what I used it for, though.” He smiled weakly. “God, I hope we’re doing the right thing!”
There was no way to sterilize the scalpel. He nicked the vein inside T’Pina’s elbow, and the blood spurted, the pressure behind it completely abnormal for a Vulcan.
“Better?” Deaver asked. T’Pina saw him swallow hard at the amount of blood coming from the cut.
“Better …” T’Pina replied.
Deaver wrapped his arms tightly around her.
Chapter Thirty-eight
On the rooftop of the Nisus Trade Center, the rescue operation was now in full swing. Spock’s attention was divided between his work and the horrifying fascination of the still-rising flood waters. It was difficult to send other crewmembers to do the rescue work while he remained safely on the rooftop. Behind him, Miss Nordlund picked up a component for one of the air cars and gave a yelp as she straightened.
Spock jumped to catch the equipment, asking, “What’s the matter?”
“My back, sir,” Nordlund replied. “It goes out sometimes.” It had obviously gone out now.
Nordlund was a sturdy woman whose long thick curls of nearly white hair were now pulled back off her face for efficiency. Spock knew she would go on despite her pain if he let her, so he said, “You cannot pull people out of flood waters in that condition.”
“But I want to help, sir,” Nordlund protested. Her pallor was receding; she did not appear to be in pain once she let go of the heavy article.
“Then take over my job,” said Spock, handing Nordlund the communicator.
He joined Sarek in assembling the air car and took the pilot’s seat.
By now the waters were swirling two stories high around the trade center. He saw no one except their own people watching from the upper windows, trying to decide when to launch their boats.
Spock banked and flew toward the hospital; there had been ground ambulances moving steadily back and forth between it and the medcamp hastily constructed on the mountainside.
The hospital was almost underwater. There were people on the roof, safe enough for the moment—the objects in the water were what concerned him.
They hit updrafts over rooftops that had been in sunshine all day, then downdrafts over the icy water. The clash of temperatures created treacherous eddies of wind.
Sensor scans gave back anomalous readings in the swirls of heat and cold; the water would have to settle more before they could rely on their sensors for life readings. In the meantime, they searched for survivors by eye.
In a low area where two main streets crossed, flood waters meeting from two directions created a whirlpool. “There!” said Sarek, pointing to what at first seemed to be one blue-and-green object tossed on the water. When they came closer it resolved into three figures, two in the blue of hospital personnel, one in a green patient’s coverall. The men in blue held the other’s head above water. Spock swung down, saying, “Can you hold the air car steady,
Father?”
“I am not familiar with this vehicle,” Sarek replied, fastening a safety harness about himself and attaching a line to it. “You fly, and I will go down to help those people.”
The moment Sarek opened the door, the wind tried to tear them out of the craft. Spock’s father braced himself and climbed out onto the pod on his side.
The patient in the green coverall was Vulcan, and unconscious. Such icy water was enough to knock out a Vulcan even in good health. Spock fought the controls, taking the craft down to skim the top of the water.
The air car’s motors whined in protest, and the wind howled. Spock could see that one of the men in blue was trying to tell Sarek something, but that his father could not understand as together they rolled the Vulcan into the passenger pod.
The moment all were in place, Spock shot straight up until they were above the whirling winds, then let Sarek hold the craft steady while he leaned out his side to fasten the straps around the exhausted Humans.
As soon as both were secure, Spock streaked back toward the Trade Center, for it was too far from here to the medcamp for the exhausted men in soaked clothing.
By this time the Enterprise medical unit was in full operation. Two of McCoy’s medtechs, Arthur and Westplain, plucked the patients from the pods and wrapped them in blankets. The Vulcan was still unconscious. Spock saw Dr. Gardens run her med-scanner over him and gesture to have him taken to the beaming area, for transport to the ship.
Meanwhile, Westplain, a tall, lanky Human with auburn hair and a face strangely weathered for a man who spent most of his time on a starship, was bending over the other two they had picked up. Suddenly one sat up, grasping the medtech’s arms, and nothing Westplain could do would calm him until he had told him something that made his usually laconic attitude shift drastically.
Spock and Sarek were almost ready to take off when Westplain ran toward them, waving his arms. Spock opened his door, and Westplain shoved his head in “Those men were ambulance attendants,” he said “They had three patients when they were caught b) the flood—that Vulcan man you rescued, another Nisus scientist, and that girl with the Romulan blood —T’Pina!”
Chapter Thirty-nine
T’Pina lay in Beau Deaver’s arms, still feeling strange. Letting some of the blood out of her body had relieved her bloated feeling, but she was still cold and thirsty, and her mind would not track.
She tried to focus in on their situation. “We should try to reach the surface now, Mr. Deaver.”
“Not yet,” Deaver said. “Let’s make sure that yer all right. Besides, I know that water’s not cold enough to kill me, but I don’t know about Vulcans.”
“Romulans,” she muttered.
“Same as makes no difference,” he replied. “One little blood factor.”
She felt his eyes upon her, struggled to maintain control. “You should go, then. Bring back help for me.”
Deaver shook his head slowly. “Not just yet,” he repeated. “We can’t even be sure the flood waters have completely settled.”
In response, T’Pina shivered violently.
“Here!” said Deaver, pulling her tightly against his broad chest, trying to stretch his wet robe over both of them. “No,” he concluded, “that won’t do. Turnover, T’Pina.”
“Turn over?”
“On your side, back to me. There, that’s it,” as she moved obediently.
He circled her with his arms and drew his knees up behind hers. Suddenly, even through her soggy hospital coverall, she could feel his warmth. His body temperature was much cooler than hers ought to be. At the moment, though, he provided a welcome warmth.
“That’s good—you’ve stopped shivering,” he said, squeezing her. “Don’t get too comfortable, though. I don’t want you falling asleep.”
“I won’t,” she promised even as her eyelids drooped.
But Deaver was alert. “T’Pina, keep talking. Hey—I told you all about me sordid past. Now it’s your turn.”
“I … don’t know anything … about my sordid past,” she replied.
“Amnesiac, are you?”
“Don’t know … who I am.”
“Sure you do,” he said. “You’re the little girl who saved Nisus.”
“Not a child,” she protested, and felt his arms tighten, the movement of his facial muscles against her neck as he smiled.
“No,” he said, “I can tell you’re not a child. But I’m puttin’ on me best gentlemanly ways, an’ not takin advantage of the current situation, am I?”
“Taking … ?”
“Alone, a beautiful woman in me arms. Anyone finds out I did no more’n hold ‘er, an’ me reputation’s ruint, innit?”
T’Pina had no answer for that. She connected his comment with common jokes and innuendos that never made sense, although she had heard them from non-Vulca
ns all her life. It was not that she did no comprehend the biology of reproduction; it was that she had never understood what it had to do with the kissing and other odd touching activities she read about or saw in entertainment tapes.
Yet … now that she had matured, she began to realize that there were connections. She recalled her embarrassing response to Sendet. But he was an unbonded male of her own species—or at least her own culture. Why would Beau Deaver expect her to respond to him?
The memory of Sendet, though, recalled the reception aboard the Enterprise, where she had seen Sarek and Amanda, Dr. Corrigan and T’Mir. It was possible, then. She remembered the day she had met Deaver, how he had helped her with the children, how pleasant it had been to be with him.
Undrugged and in her normal state of health, could she respond to a man who was so different from what she was?
Were they so different? What had he called them —betwixt-and-betweens?
At her long silence, Deaver said, “Stay awake, T’Pina. Tell me more about yourself. You’re a medical technician.”
“Yes,” she replied. “I’m going to work at the Nisus hospital for a few years, until I decide what area to specialize in. Then I will seek further education at an appropriate institution.”
“Appropriate,” he said. “Have you ever done anything inappropriate in your life, T’Pina?”
“Yes,” she replied.
“You have? What?”
“Somehow … I got born Romulan.”
She felt his chuckle at that. Humans were strange, this Human/Orion hybrid even more so. She did not understand why he found her statement amusing.
Before she could say so, however, he was asking, “Doesn’t that change your plans in any way?”
“What do you mean?”
“Aren’t you curious? I thought curiosity was the only emotion Vulcans allowed themselves.”
T’Pina realized that she was curious; she simply had not had time to think since receiving the startling news.
Now, perhaps because the drug was working its way out of her system, she began to wonder how she could be Romulan. “I don’t know how to find out,” she told Deaver. “The Romulans are enemies of the Federation.”
“Ask Korsal,” Deaver suggested.
“Korsal? The Klingon engineer? Why would he know anything about me?”
“I didn’t mean that he would know how you got to that Vulcan colony planet. But the Klingons have dealings with the Roms. Korsal may know how to put your questions through Klingon channels and get some answers from the Romulans.”
“Mr. Deaver,” she asked, “how do you know that?”
“Don’t you think that under the circumstances, you could call me Beau?”
“You are evading my question.”
“Ah—logic returneth. Too bad. I liked you all sorta muzzy an’ sweet.”
“I asked you how you know that the Klingons are in contact with the Romulans.”
“Well,” he replied, “I could suggest that you ask the Orions, but I think you can trust the Klingons a whole lot further. At least when they’re hostile, they’re open about it.”
“Oh,” she said, embarrassed. Then, “You’re saying the Orions also deal with the Romulans?”
“Orions deal with anyone they can make a profit offa,” he replied. “They deal anything, too: weapons, drugs, slaves. Almost sold me once, they did.”
“… what?”
“You know they sell their women.”
“Yes, everybody knows that.”
“Well, that’s the only commodity there’s enough market for on the fringes of the Federation to make it worth the risk. But on their home planets they sell men, women, children. I was just a kid, but I musta had some o’ me heartbreakin’ charm already. An Orion trader named Zefat thought I’d go fer a high price as an exotic toy fer some rich Orion or maybe Klingon family. Got me dad into a rigged game. Gamblin’ was always me dad’s fatal weakness.”
He fell silent.
T’Pina could not believe what she was hearing. “You mean … your father gambled, with you as the stakes?”
“Not only gambled; he lost.”
“Then how—?”
“Me mum,” he replied. “Orion women aren’t stupid, you know. Orion men keep ‘em ignorant. But me dad let Mum do what she wanted, long as she kep’ him happy. She learned to use the ship’s computer to do more than keep the place clean. When she found out what me dad had done, she come after me, armed with all the Federation had on Zefat, that she got outa the computer, and info she got from other Orion women.”
T’Pina felt his arms tighten around her as he remembered what was obviously a painful experience. “The hints she dropped got her onta Zefat’s ship. He thought she was tryin’ t’ blackmail him, an’ she let him think it. Got me outa the hold and into the same room with ‘em.
“Zefat planned to kill me mum there an’ then—get ridda her an’ teach me a lesson. But he didn’t know Mum. She’d found out who his enemies were—and with the Federation info and the slan from the other women she’d let them know, in exchange for my life, exactly how Zefat had cheated them. She had Zefat surrounded by three of his worst enemies.”
“Your mother was very courageous,” said T’Pina.
“Yeah,” he replied. “Always. She’s the one I think about when the Orions do something dastardly, an’ I wish I could deny I’m one of ‘em.”
“But you’re not—” she began, and then suddenly realized what he had just taught her. “You are not Orion any more than I am Romulan.”
He smiled. “Me point exactly.”
“I thought you were a mathematician, not a psychologist,” she said.
“Jack of all trades, ma’am,” Deaver said. She shifted uncomfortably in his arms. “What’s the matter?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” T’Pina managed. “It is suddenly … quite difficult to catch my breath.” She swallowed painfully. “Perhaps the serum is still acting to dehydrate my body.”
“Or maybe,” Deaver said, “the air in here is starting to run out.”
Struggling, T’Pina turned herself over to face him. “We cannot wait any longer. We have to try to reach the surface.”
“Yer right,” Beau said. “Only …” His voice trailed off.
She looked up at him. “What’s the matter?”
“Well,” he began. “I can’t—’ere, maybe it’s easier if I just show you.” He lifted his robe to reveal a long, angry gash along the length of his thigh. T’Pina gasped involuntarily, her own pain forgotten.
“I must’ve cut meself comin’ in through one of them windows,” he explained. “Hurts like bloody hell—and I don’t think the leg’ll be much good in the water.”
“You should have told me,” T’Pina said.
Deaver smiled. “Give you one more thing to worry about? And what then? Nah, I was hopin’ someone’d find us so neither of us’d have t’ brave the water. Ah, well—a fine pair we make.” He rested his hand on T’Pina’s shoulder. “Shall we?” he asked, nodding toward the water.
T’Pina took a deep breath and nodded.
Chapter Forty
Spock guided the air car toward where they had picked up the three flood victims. Below, the marine vehicle manned by Landing Party Seven moved out now that the water was calming.
He punched the communicator button. “Party Seven.”
“Chevron here, Mr. Spock,” came the prompt reply. That was the computer tech, second only to Spock among the Enterprise crew at putting a computer through its paces.
“We know where the ambulance carrying T’Pina was trapped,” Chevron told them, giving the location.
“On our way.”
The watercraft sped toward the intersection, bouncing over the rough water.
From their vantage point above, Spock and Sarek ran a scan for signs of life—and picked up strong readings in one of the buildings. “Survivors in the Federation Building, Mr. Chevron,” Spock reported. “Please have your sq
uad rendezvous with us there, on the rooftop.”
They set a course for that building. The roof was broad enough to allow the air car to land. Spock and Sarek jumped out and ran to the stairwell, where two security men wearing wetsuits were already disappearing into the depths, trailing a safety line attached to a stanchion on the roof.
Chevron was at the door, carrying extra air bottles and breathing masks. He turned to the two Vulcans and said, “We’ve got enough heroes, I should think. Besides, Vulcans are not exactly designed as aquatic animals, are they? You can help to haul us out if we get into trouble.”
With that, he clipped his own harness to the safety line, pulled his breathing mask into place, and followed his colleagues into the stairwell.
Sarek frowned. “Insubordination?”
“Eccentricity,” Spock replied. “Captain Kirk allows a great deal of leeway as long as his crew-members do their jobs well. Mr. Chevron simply takes advantage of it.”
“That good at his job, is he?” asked Sarek.
“Indeed,” Spock acknowledged, “extremely good.”
There was nothing to do but wait. Michaels, the other man in the landing party, paced nervously on the roof, checking every few moments that the safety line was playing out properly. Spock said nothing. Humans were perfectly capable of exhibiting stress and at the same time performing adequately.
Besides, he understood how the man felt. He was none too sanguine about standing here, waiting, while other Enterprise crewmembers risked their lives in the icy water below.
Taking a deep breath, Deaver eased himself off the cabinet into the water. T’Pina heard him gasp, saw him go white with pain as the water struck his wound. But somehow he gained control, teeth gripping his lower lip.
“All right, now,” he said to T’Pina, who lay on the very edge of the metal cabinet behind him. He reached up to her. “Give me your hand, and just lower yourself in—”
She started suddenly. “Listen!” she said.
“What?”
