The Devil In the DNA Part 3

[Sky Falls In Thunder]

Over the next week things proceded as well as Kirk could realistically hope for them to, which is to say they preceeded rather slower than he liked. The Avalon was up to maintaining stable Warp 4.5 and Scottie had hopes of getting her up to Warp 5 in the next 10 days or so, but they were still deep in what McCoy referred to as "Indian Country." Unknown space that was not only beyond the the fringe of Federation space, but also an area relatively unexplored by any of her allies or trading partners. Normally Kirk would be thrilled to be this far out in the Big Unknown... or for that matter, just this far from Starfleet brass. But in this case the experience was more nerve wracking than exhilerating. Crawling along with a crippled ship while carrying a load of refugees tended to put a damper on one's sense of adventure or desire to encounter strange new races and phenomena.

After no small amount of "spirited discussion", Kirk had finally surrendered to the logic of transferring all of the refugees to the Enterprise and accepting the plan according to which, should they run afoul of something or someone dangerous enough to threaten both ships, the Avalon would play Leonidas while Kirk made like a Dunkirk fisherman ferrying refugees from harm's way. Kirk understood the logic of it on an intellectual level. The Avalon could never outrun an adversary capable of threatening both her and the Enterprise. He knew that the safety of the civilians he carried came before ego and pride, and even the shame of leaving an injured ship behind to delay pursuit... but what the mind understands and what the gut can accept are often different things. So after an arguement Kirk knew he would... and should... lose, he agreed to the plan. But only after Granger agreed to accept volunteers from the Enterprise to fill some of the empty chairs in Security and Engineering.

Kirk was finally in a position to deal with less critical matters such as fine tuning the details of settling in his refugees and deciding what to do with the mousey-but-large Augment girl currently guesting in his sickbay. He sat in Conference Room B sipping coffee and pushing figures around on a data slate, trying to find a way to provide more warm bodies for the Avalon without creating any critical shortages on his own ship. He was finally ready to admit defeat when the informal conference's attendees began making their way in. Doctor T'Shia and Spock were apparently ganging up on Bones, their unstoppable logic battering at his immovable stubborness. Trailing a bit behind them was the woman who was the unofficial leader of the rescued prisoners and bringing up the rear was the Enterprise's Chief of Security, Lt. Commander Giotto.

Miss Romanova was actually smiling a little while watching this new interpretation of the Bones & Spock Show, now that she had developed a working and comfortable familiarity with the players. She was still jumpy, prone to bouts of haunted melencholy and bursts of white-knuckled, silent rage but Kirk was confident she would heal in time. He had no doubt that her unofficial role as Senior Prisoner during her captivity and post-rescue role of mother hen/foreman/chaplain/drill sergeant provided a sense of purpose that served as the bedrock of her own stability. He also knew that McCoy would be quietly, subtley, working to prepare her for the time when her charges would begin going their seperate ways. He knew that for her the hardest part would be when she had nobody to look after, and finally had to tend to her own hurts.

Yeoman Rand provided the squabbling doctors and Giotto with their preferred beverages as everyone settled in, but allowed Kirk to pour Romanova a glass of hot tea from the samovar the ship's steward had borrowed from Chekov. It was not a gesture designed to convey pity or condolence, but one of respect from one leader to another. Tatiana Romonova might never have been in Starfleet nor risen beyond the rank of a technician sergeant in a podunk colony militia, but she had led her people through Hell and come back with trophies. She nodded and accepted the glass, stared at the delicate silver filigree of the holder... and then slipped into some memory of a home that was most likely a burnt and broken ruin. She shook it off with a visible effort.

"Thank you, Captain. And thank you again for all of the work you and your crew have done to make my girls feel at home. It seems like every member of your crew has stopped by with some gift or gesture of kindness. We are all very grateful."

“Well, if anything comes to mind, let us know. It’ll be a couple weeks before it’s safe for any lengthy communications, but we’ll contact your assorted homeworlds as soon as we can. Now, the first order of business is the young Vulcan woman. T’Ren, I believe? I understand she was injured in defense of the other captives and is comatose.”

Romanova nodded. “Catatonic, captain. These ‘supermen’ took her by mistake. Their only interest was in human breeding stock, they regarded non-humans as ‘genetic filth.’ They were going to just kill her out of hand when their leader, this ‘Patriarch’ decided they should keep her for ‘practice.’ That’s what they called it. ‘Practice.’ You could say she drew their fire. She mocked them, refused to cower or cry out. She stood so proudly before them. Of course, this enraged them and they singled her out for … special attentions. At night in the pens, we begged her to stop… but she quietly insisted that since she was more physically and mentally resilient than we were, that it was … only logical… for her to distract them from us for as long as she could. Eventually, they tired of the game, decided she was no fun. Then they started taking the other girls and left her alone. And.. she… she…”

“She saw no logic in continuing.” Spock said quietly.

Doctor T’Shia nodded. “Indeed. She has withdrawn deep into her own mind, Captain. I am competent Healer, but I can hope only to stabilize her and ease her suffering. I have only been able to risk light, surface contact with her, insufficient to truly stabilize her. To fully recover she will require extensive sessions with Healers more skilled and experienced than I. It will, in all likelihood, take months for her to find her way back, to repair her damaged self. I can only presume such was her intent because she chose this state rather than simply trying to stop her own heart.”

An uncomfortable silence began to stretch out when McCoy shifted uncomfortably and asked “How would you know the difference? Look for signs of heart and brain damage?”

“Correct, Doctor McCoy. Even a failed attempt would have left damage to the heart muscles and some level of brain damage. The lack of either of those indicates she hoped to be resuscitated.”

“Doctor, what if the signs indicated otherwise?” Kirk asked.

The petite Vulcan doctor looked at him levelly. “Tal-Shaya. I am grateful I was not called upon to perform that duty. Rather, I intend to perform a deep mind-meld to attempt to reach her, to let her psyche know that she is now safe so she may begin to rest and marshal her strength. The procedure is not without risk, I will require Mr. Spock’s assistance, to act as an anchor lest I be pulled into madness with her. Now that my patients are in good hands, it is appropriate that I now do what I can for T’Ren.”

“Doctor, no offense… but you are exhausted. Mentally and physically. Why don’t we recess until you can get some rest?”

“There is no offense where none is taken, Captain. And it would be illogical for me to deny that which is obviously true. But it is possible she is even now re-living her experiences, in a ‘loop’ if you would. I cannot leave her in such a state for any longer than is necessary, thus I prefer to resolve the current issues in order to focus properly on the procedure. With your permission, I will be able to perform the meld this evening. After which, I shall rest sufficiently to satisfy even Doctor McCoy.”

“Spock?” Kirk glanced at his first officer.

“As the Healer has stated, there is a level of risk but I consider it to be acceptable. I will be acting as both an anchor and a ‘relief valve’ during the process. And I will be able to sever the connection should it become necessary.”

Kirk eyed Spock with a certain level of suspicion. When Spock cited a level of risk without providing the odds, it usually meant he was trying to downplay the risk without actually lying about it. But to order Spock to leave the Vulcan girl in a literal psychic hell would be unacceptable. He could only trust his friend’s judgement. And it didn’t take the The Cochrane Prize to figure out that Doctor T’Shia would proceed with or without help now that her other patient’s care was guaranteed.

“Very well. Proceed as soon as you’re both ready, but keep me informed. And since M’Benga’s keeping your sickbay warm on the Avalon, I want Bones to be there as a spotter.”

“Thank you, Captain.”

“Now, about our other guest. Starfleet has some particularly stringent standing orders regarding any Augments and their descendants. I’ve thrown most of them out the airlock, but I’m going to need to be able to justify doing that. I need to know more about her. Not just what she is, but who she is if I'm going to be able to help her to the best of my ability. I made the mistake of trying to introduce myself to her a couple days ago, just to put her mind at ease and get a feel for her. She hid under Doctor McCoy's desk until I left, and my ears are still burning from the combined scolding Nurse Chapel and Yeoman Rand gave me. So. Let's start at the beginning. Miss Romanova, tell me about Miss Sky Falls In Thunder."

"Yes, Captain." Romanova closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths. "Sky... she was, you could say, one of the natives. And that's not her name, not really. She never had one, I guess. When Charles... when Captain Granger was trying to interview her, she couldn't grasp the idea of a 'Breed Thing' having a Name, and had only a rude grasp of our language. We thought she was saying her name was "Sky Falls In Thunder", but she was just trying to describe something about when the raid blew the roof of the bunker system they all lived in. Anyway...'Sky' kind of stuck. She's clearly related to the nekulturny swine that took us. Physically, at least, the family resemblence is strong but she's nothing like them. Sky tried to help in what limited ways she could understand. She tried to show us how to hide, and when not to hide. The trick was to hide well enough not to be too convenient when they came looking for someone, but also not be so inconvenient that they ... became frustrated and angry. That was when they would hurt you worse. Showed us how to get sneak out of the pens to steal extra food from the vats. Security was, as Captain Granger put it... 'fat and happy.' That was how I found the transmitter station and the weapons. She never fought them... none of their women even knew how. But I can tell you this. There is no way that she, nor any of the other women or children there were in any way involved in those bastard's raids. They were all victims, they just happened to be born there. Here. Captain Granger told me there were things you should see for yourself to understand her."

She inserted a data cartridge into the conference room's monitor. "These are from Dr T'Shia's early interviews. When Captain Granger or any of the men tried to interrogate her, she just scurried to a corner and hid her eyes, but with any women or non-human crew members she was ok, if timid." Tapping a few keys, Romanova found the recording she was looking for. Kirk leaned forward to watch. On the screen was an image of the Avalon's brig. Dr. T'Shia sat in one of the cells while the girl peeked at her from under a blanket in the corner of the cell.

"Do you have a mother or father?" asked the Vulcan doctor in a gentle, calming tone.

"The Father is gone to nothing. They put fire in him and he fell into nothing and screamed and was nothing with the Brothers."

"What about a mother?"

"It hasn't stolen that word, never heard it to steal. What is 'mother'?"

"A female... Was there a female who cared for you? Who fed you?"

"There was a Breed Thing that gave It food when It was small, but the Father and the Brothers stopped her."

"Stopped her? Please clarify. Did they stop her from feeding you?"

"No. It was old enough to walk to the vats to get food then so she didn't bring It food any more. One day the Father and the Brothers said that the Breed Thing was used up and no use, no fun. So they hit her with hands and pushed her down, they put foots on her until she stopped."

"Stopped? Stopped struggling?"

The figure under the blanked shrugged. "Until she stopped. Then they took her away to the vats."

Seeing that the recording had made its point, Romanova skipped to another section. "It didn't take long for Captain Granger to decide she wasn't going to conquer his ship any time soon and have Doctor T'Shia move Sky to Sickbay, what was left of it anyway. She kept thinking someone was trying to trick her, get her to speak out loud or do any of the other things they punished their women... punished us... for doing. It took weeks for her to realize Captain Granger and the other men on the ship weren't going to start hitting and abusing her." She keyed the next segment to start.

The girl was standing in the dim lighting of ship's night, in one of the small, semi-private private areas in the Avalon's sickbay. Well, private except for the security recorders Granger had installed. Kirk nodded to himself. That was one of the few parts of the Dawnstar Protocols he himself had stuck with. Bones had raised all manner of sour hell until Kirk put his foot down and reminded him that it might be McCoy's Sickbay, but that Sickbay was on Kirk's ship, and that the cameras would help him study his patient when she was alone and thus possibly provide better treatment for her obvious emotional and social issues. Bones relented, but still managed to give each camera the stinkeye every time he passed it. Kirk motioned for Romanova to play the recording.

On the screen the girl was wearing one of those godawful jumpsuits crewman used when crawling around in Jeffries tubes and scrubbing plasma conduits. All the Avalon could come up with considering her recyclers were down for the count. Someone had set up a mirror in the medical cubicle, and some other improvised decorations one would expect for a little girl's room. Sky was turning this way and that, trying to look at herself from every angle. And grinning. She was swishing and by God preening like a debutante who had just taken delivery of her very first ball gown. Suddenly she froze, head cocked as though she had heard something out in the main area of sickbay. Moving with surprising speed she stripped out of the jumpsuit and scampered to corner where she climbed up on to the biobed. Popping an access panel off of the wall above the monitor, she quickly bundled the jumpsuit into a small ball and stuffed it into the bulkhead. It appeared that several stacks of ration bars were already there to keep it company. Then she hopped off of the bed, snatched up a blanket and curled up in the corner with the blanket over her head.

On this T'Shia commented in that dry Vulcan understatement that conveyed a small bit of ironic amusement to those who knew what to listen for. "She has displayed remarkable problem-solving capability given her profound ignorance and lack of any sort of education. I have discovered an impressive number of heretofore unknown places in my sickbay one can hide ration bars. When we get to a spacedock and begin repair and refitting procedures, I suspect that the technicians will discover several more."

Kirk smiled, his relief growing. “Bones, what can you and your collegue tell me about her genetic augmentation?"

"Well Jim, I've run a full physical work up of her, but don't really have the facilities to tell exactly how much is tinkering, and how much is selective breeding. My facilities here are limited, but I'd say her DNA looks to be all human. I reckon she's about as tweaked as she could be and still be expected to breed true with unaugmented humans without medical intervention. Gut bacteria is all Earth norm, if of the best imaginable models. Her immune system is such I'd be surprised if she ever caught a cold and it would take some pretty appalling conditions and neglect for an injury to go septic. Her reflexes are amped up, as is muscle density. Lots of quick-twitch musculature, and much better endurance for every muscle type. Remember what I said about Khan? That he could probably lift us both with one arm? I'd expect the same of her when she fills out some. She's definately been tinkered with more than Khan was though... My guess is, if she's a product of any Earth based technology we know about, I'd say she's closer to the Soong type Augments that gave Captain Archer problems back in the day, but maybe even a more polished model.”

"Her bone density is impressive... and that makes her medical history that much more disturbing. Jim, she isn't going to break a damn thing falling off the swingset or down a flight of stairs. It would take serious effort to break something. But she's had more bones broken than not, fingers, facial bones, and ribs seem to be the favorites. All repaired expertly, better than I could do back at Starfleet Medical, but the traces are there. Jim, they took extra effort to make sure she stayed pretty."

Kirk allowed his mind to shy away from that fact and it's ugly implications for the moment. "Bones. How old do you think she is?"

"Hard to tell, Jim. Her telemeres, well, they're all goofy.” Spock raised an eyebrow at this, but must have decided that it was just too easy a shot to bother with. McCoy shot him a glare and continued. “Based on what I know of how much you can reasonably accelerate maturation without causing deformity, the average size of her people and the growth recorded in the last few months through now... I'd guess she's between 10 and 12 years old at most. She's eating like a horse and growing like a weed."

Kirk nodded. “Socialization? Education?”

“Proceeding pretty well, Jim. We’ve learned that a great deal of her anxiety is caused by olfactory cues. All of her senses are at the high end of the bell curve, after all. When a human male gets angry or aroused, she processes the scent as a danger sign.”

“Just human males?”

McCoy smiled brightly. “Yep. Non-humans have different biochemistry, different pheromones. Jim, I’d been meaning to talk to you about this for a while, and I guess now’s as good a time as any. Boys and girls are different, Jim, and when they get to a certain age their bodies start to change even more…”

“Thank you. Bones. I think… I’ve… got a handle on that. Boys and girls smell different. Different pH and all that. Thank you for that lesson.”

“Glad to help, Jim. Any time you have any more questions on the subject… feel free to ask Spock.”

Kirk managed to fire Bones a dirty look, but it was pretty half-hearted. He knew he’d walked right into that one.

Satisfied with himself, McCoy continued. “Doctor T’Shia’s come up with a modification of an old Vulcan remedy that Vulcan females use to dampen their sense of smell when serving with humans. Diluted, and adjusted somewhat it helps de-sensitize Sky a little. Not too much, of course. We don’t want to panic her by cutting off one of her senses, and she’ll need to learn to deal with it eventually. Anyway, she’s a quick study. Never forgets anything you tell her and could drive Spock to distraction with her questions. Her biggest problems are context. It’s hard to understand some words and concepts without similar cultural frames of reference. We’re using a variation of the educational programs we set up for Lt. Uhura after that damned floating vacuum cleaner Nomad wiped her memory.”

“Computer access?” Kirk felt a small jab of alarm that he knew was irrational. But after Khan….

Giotto spoke up. “Limited, Captain. She’s has an isolated terminal with extremely limited access. The educational materials, entertainment, games, that sort of thing. I had Lt. Uhura ensure it was secure, and that every keystroke is recorded. However, as Doctor McCoy has pointed out, she’s quite clever. I regret to inform you that she has made two covert attempts at unauthorized computer access, one to obtain classified data and one to obtain a prohibited item.”

Again Kirk’s stomach made a jump, but he saw Giotto had that face he made when trying not to let anyone know he had a great hand in poker, and that McCoy was outright smirking at him. Sometimes I get really tired of playing the straight man, Kirk thought, but God knows we could use a little joy right now. “Ok. I’ll bite. What did she do?”

“Well, Jim, without those cameras protecting sick bay, there might have been all sorts of trouble. Here.” McCoy’s smirk was now the one he used when he was about to make someone look like a real asshole. The Doctor popped another data cartridge into the viewer.

The scene again showed a dimly lit sickbay, with Sky sitting up in her bed and glancing furtively around. She hunched over her terminal and pulled a blanket over herself and the screen. The monitor in the conference room displayed her commands across the bottom of the screen.

“Computer. Where do they keep the chocolate?”

Kirk managed to keep a smile off of his face and maintain an air of mock-seriousness. “Your diligence is to be commended, Barry. And the second access?”

McCoy advanced to the next scene. Again, ship’s night. This time, Sky was perched on a bio-bed, clutching her rag doll looking around pensively. She then hopped to the next bio-bed, and the next. The scene switched to different cameras to follow her progress. When she ran out of bio-beds, she hopped to a counter in the main sickbay area. It was like watching child play “Plasma On The Floor.” All the while she was trying to watch everywhere at once for some possible threat. She snatched up a chair tossed it to the center of the room. A deep breath, then she jumped to it, and from there to Doctor McCoy’s desk where she typed in the Doctor’s access code. Again, the text began scrolling across the bottom of the conference room monitor.

“Computer. I need a mongoose.”

“Please restate the request.”

“Computer, please get me a mongoose.”

“Unable to comply.”

“Computer. Tell Doctor McCoy to prescribe a mongoose for me.”

“Unable to comply.”

“Stupid computer! Do you want Nag and Nagina to get me?”

“Please restate the request.”

“Stupidstupidstupidstupid!”

Mercifully, Giotto leaned over and cut the monitor off. Even T’Shia had a faint smile. She really must be at the end of her rope, Kirk thought. “Nag? Nagina? The names are familiar, but I can’t place them.”

Spock, as usual, was happy to display his superior knowledge of Earth literature while conveying a slight hint of disapproval that Kirk didn’t get the reference. “They were the antagonists in Rudyard Kipling’s Rikki Tikki Tavi. Nag and Nagina were two cobras who were defeated by a mongoose.”

Giotto was fighting a losing battle against the giggles as he stared at a spot on the wall behind Kirk. “A number of the crew have been bringing her books, Captain. Crewman Shaikatra has a rather large collection of ancient Earth Classics and provided The Subject with a copy of The Jungle Book. Subject apparently became convinced that there might be cobras on the ship and wanted a mongoose to protect herself from them.”





“Well. She must have been quite concerned to attempt something as serious as obtaining an… unauthorized… prescription for a mongoose.” Kirk was rather proud that he was able to keep a straight face on that one. But the laughter in Romanova’s eyes made it worth the effort. “Has she been warned of the seriousness of the offense, and what steps have been taken to protect her from …. cobras?”

“Sir. I am pleased to report that the situation has been resolved. Ensign Garov has explained to her that Redshirts are far better able to protect her from cobras. Pursuant to Starfleet Regulations, I consulted with the highest ranking civilian authority present and secured permission to deputize Princess Widdershins as a local militia exchange liaison, entitling the Princess to wear the uniform.”

Romanova nodded gravely.

Giotto continued, but his eyes were squinting up and watering at this point. “Ensign Garov crafted a field expedient uniform for the Princess. Crewman Shaikatra assisted, but demanded to be allowed to dye the Princess’s skin blue. And she made a little white wig for her… AndIhadScottymakeheralittletoyphaserCaptain.”

Kirk actually felt a little dizzy at the thought of the beefy Tellarite and pissy Andorian shen collaborating to dress up a doll.

“Excellent work, people. I take it our guest is no longer afraid Nag and Nagina will get her? And is our chocolate safe?”

“I have created an appropriate dietary plan for the patient,” T’Shia informed him primly.

“Well, I think that takes care of everything then. Good work, everyone.”

“Jim, does this mean I can get rid of those damned cameras? And can we get the kid her own room? A girl needs her privacy. That, and Nurse Chapel is talking to her about Girl Stuff, and damnit, Jim, I’m a doctor, not a babysitter for wayward Augments!”

“Ok, Bones, give me a couple more days to see what I can come up with. In the meantime, please ensure that our mongoose supply is secure. Meeting adjourned.”



It was past her bedtime, but Sky was still reading anyway when Doctor McCoy, T’Shia, and Mister Spock entered the sickbay. She was afraid she’d be in trouble, but she didn’t need much sleep, and there were so many words she could just have in the books people brought her and on the terminal. She often had to stop reading and look things up, and even then she often didn’t understand why some things happened in the stories she read. Why didn’t Pooh just not eat so much honey, and what were British doing in India anyway? Didn’t they have Britain? And why do tigers talk in books, but not in The Real World? And where are the cakes that made you grow big?

She turned off her monitor and started to say she was sorry, but Doctor McCoy just smiled and asked how she was doing. Spock just stood back and watched. He did that a lot, but he never smelled like he was going to hit anyone, and he had pretty ears like T’Shia, so she guessed that he was Vulcan too. That meant Surak had taught him not to hit people. Sky thought briefly that it would have been nice if Surak had come to her world and had taught her father not to hit people. No, that wouldn’t have worked, she thought. Her father probably would have just hit Surak. A lot.

“Sky, can you come out to my office with me? I want you to tell me about what you read today and we’ll see how much you’ve grown.”

“Yes, Doctor. Can I bring Ensign Widdershins?”

Another smile. Doctor McCoy smelled angry and got loud sometimes, but he never hit anyone. And she could tell he really liked smiling better than yelling. Although when he yelled at Mr. Spock, he smelled like he was smiling.

As followed Doctor McCoy out to his office, Mr. Spock and T’Shia went over to the other end of the sickbay, to where the broken Vulcan girl was. She was broken because she really hadn’t been very good at hiding.

So Sky answered Doctor McCoy’s questions and suggested that a chocolate sundae from the sickbay food dispener would be very nice. Doctor McCoy smiled again and promised her one as soon as he finished taking his readings. But she could hear Mr. Spock and T’Shia talking. These people were all very nice, but they didn’t seem to understand how loudly they spoke. So she listened to them while she listened to Doctor McCoy and ate her sundae. Spock and T’Shia were both speaking, together.

“My mind to your mind… my thoughts… to your thoughts…”

They continued saying things like that for a few minutes, and then she heard the broken girl speaking too, very quietly. That was surprising because she never said anything. Or did anything. And they couldn’t get her to eat anything, so they put food in her arm which was very strange. She was saying the same things they were, and their voices kept overlapping and taking turns like they were sharing words as they said them.

“There is no shame where there is no crime… no it hurts it hurts to be…. There is no pain. I am Spock/T’Ren/T’Shia of Vulcan and I control my emotions… no no no I don’t want it I don’t want don’t be me don’t make me 3.1415926535897932384626433832795028841971693993751058209 74944592307816406286208 there is no self, there is peace 99862803482534211706798214808651 3282306647093844609550582231there is no danger, there is rest, there is no self, there is peace, there is no pain, there is control.”

Eventually the voices became quiet and tapered off. The broken girl quit talking and then Spock and T’Shia were quietly talking between themselves in their normal voices.

“Her katra is still present, but is badly damaged, perhaps permanently”

“Yes. But I believe she will recover eventually. The sooner she is in the hands of a Master Healer, the better.”

“Indeed. When we are in friendly space, I shall ask that the Captain contact Vulcan to have a medical ship meet us. Doctor? Are you well?”

Then Spock came to the door, he was helping T’Shia walk and he gestured to Doctor McCoy, who joined them. Sky continued to enjoy her sundae, but took the opportunity to pocket a couple of the chocolate bars Doctor McCoy kept at his desk to ration out to her. She pretended she couldn’t hear them talk because Tatiana had told her it scared some people when she was asked to read the smallest words she could and she glanced around the sickbay and then read “This basin is not for the disposal of corrosive materials” instead of ” E O W F A R Q.” T’Shia looked very tired.

“Sky, back to bed with you now. Go ahead and get some sleep, we’ll find you some more books tomorrow, ok?” Sky nodded and went back to her bed where she pretended to go to sleep while she listened to the Doctors and Mr. Spock talk. They discussed vital signs and things Sky didn’t really understand for some time.

“How is she?” McCoy asked, his voice filled with both concern and relief.

“Resting. As I expected, I was unable to draw her out but I was able to convey the idea that she was now safe. I have suppressed the worst the memories that were tormenting her. The memories are not erased, but will be manageable when she is in the care of one of our Healing Sanctuaries. I believe she will recover in time.”

“That’s a relief. Alright, then, let’s get out of here so our patients can get their beauty sleep and we’ll see about a certain Vulcan Healer’s promise not to argue about getting some rest herself.” Sky heard McCoy walk quietly to the door of bio-bed area and she knew he was looking right at her for a long moment.

After they left, Sky got bored. She’d heard the broken girl speak, and Mr. Spock and T’Shia talking about her broken katra. Sky had never heard of a katra and guessed it was some sort of part on the inside, maybe one that only Vulcans had. She slipped out of her bed and padded over to the broken girl. Sky poked her. Nothing. They had mentioned that she was hiding in her head. Well, if she was hiding, she must be scared. Well, that was easy to fix. Ensign Widdershins could keep away the cobras, so Sky tucked her under the broken girl’s arm. Nope. She was still scared in her head. Sky thought for a minute. Ration bars always made her feel safe, so maybe they hadn’t given her the right food. After all, how could food in your arm make you feel safe? Sky retrieved one of her ration bars and broke off a piece, putting it in the Vulcan girl’s mouth. No response. Sky guessed that maybe she just didn’t like them. Come to think of it, Sky didn’t recall anyone but her actually liking them. Maybe chocolate would help. Chocolate made her mouth happy, after all. Rummaging in the pocket of her jumpsuit she got one of her chocolate bars and broke off a piece After carefully getting all the pieces of ration bars out of the Vulcan girl’s mouth, she popped a piece of the chocolate in. Nope. Maybe Vulcan’s don’t like chocolate? It was a very strange thought, but their blood was green, after all. Sky retrieved her chocolate and ate it herself. Melty, but still chocolate. She padded over to her terminal.

She typed “Computer: What do Vulcans like?”

Please restate the question.

Stupid Computer. “Computer: What do Vulcans like to eat”

“While physiologically omnivorous, the Vulcan race is predominantly vegetarian…”

The computer kept blathering stupid things which were absolutely no help for some time.

“Computer: Is there any Vulcan food here?”

The Sickbay food dispenser has been programmed to provide one traditional Vulcan dish. Plomeek broth is available under the menu selection “Comfort foods.”


Sky padded over to the food dispenser and rummaged through the data cartridges until she found the one labeled “Comfort Foods.” A few moments later, she had a steaming bowl of plomeek broth. She tried some. Not bad, but then again, by her standards anything that didn’t come back up was good. She carried the bowl over to the broken girl. Setting the bowl down on the bedside stand, she picked the girl up and cradled her in her lap, holding her upright with one arm while she tried spooning some soup into her. Sky got more soup on the girl’s chin than in her mouth, but it was a start. She ate a spoon herself. Still good. The next spoonful was for the Vulcan girl, and this time she actually opened her mouth a little, so Sky got some more soup into her. After a couple more spoonfuls, the broken girl actually made a small, tiny sound and moved a little. But when the bowl was only half empty, she closed her mouth again and quit eating. So Sky held her while she finished the bowl.

So.

Vulcan’s like plomeek broth, and it might be good for a broken katra. Sky thought about times she had things broken inside her. But Doctor McCoy had made it very clear that medicine was to be prescribed by Doctors, and not “young ladies too clever for their own good.” So any medicine was, as the Blue Girl would say, “A No-Go.” Sky looked at the broken girl she was holding. She wasn’t very heavy, but none of these people were, so Sky continued to hold her.

She thought about when she was very little and some of the Younger Brothers had caught her. They’d beaten her, broken things inside her and then taken turns hurting her. The Father and some of the Older Brothers caught them and were very angry. While she lay on the cold metal floor he had raged about, Punishing them. “Stupid gene-kludge filth! What good is a dead Breed Thing to me? Idiot baseline trash! They’re mine! My property!”


She was hurt too badly to even be scared as he beat them, tore an ear off of one, a thumb from another. Then one of the Younger Brothers tried to fight back, so the Father tore his jaw off. When he decided they’d been punished enough, he’d told them to crawl off to a Medic and then walked over to her. He had prodded her with his foot to see if she was still alive and she felt something in her side grinding. He turned to one of the Older Brothers and spoke to him.

“Come back in a few days and see if it’s still alive. If it survives, it might be strong enough to breed good sons.”

Some time after they left, the Breed Thing that used to bring her food came out of her hiding place and touched Sky’s hair. Sky had a very good memory, but this period was very confused for her. There was a lot of pain and blackness. But she remembered that the one Breed Thing had brought her handfuls of vat sludge, and carried water to her in her mouth. Then she had just held her and made soft sounds, and eventually the Older Brothers had come and chased her away, and dragged Sky to a Medic to be fixed.

So in the dimness of ship’s night, Sky held the broken girl in her arms and hummed the old sounds she remembered.


In Conference Room C, McCoy poked a finger at the monitor.

“See? I told you she was playing possum.”

T’Shia raised an eyebrow.

“An earth mammal which collapses and pretends to be deceased when threatened,” explained Spock.

“Ah. An apt metaphor then.”

McCoy smirked, then became serious. “Did you hear what I heard? T’Ren was responsive, if only briefly.”

“Yes, Doctor. And it is indicative of my fatigue that this treatment did not occur to me. We have been eating ration bars for so long that “comfort food” did not occur to me. We must also provide her with other appropriate sensory stimuli. Incense, other Vulcan foods, and perhaps music. This is a very encouraging sign.”

“Is it safe to leave her with Sky? The girl means well, but she might accidently hurt her.”

“I believe she will be safe. On the Avalon there was one rather alarming moment when we could not find T’Ren. It seems that Sky was worried about her laying on a bed in the open. She had made a nest of blankets and pillows in a supply closet and carried her there where, Sky felt, T’Ren would be safe. Once I explained to her that it T’Ren was safe where she was, Sky stopped trying to hide her. It did not occur to me to warn her not to attempt culinary experimentation, however. I must rest.” The Vulcan Healer sagged in her chair.

“Doctor, I must insist that you rest in my quarters. I shall make due elsewhere. You will find that Commander Scott has adjusted the environmental controls and gravity plating to produce a satisfactory simulation of a Vulcan environment. Furthermore, you will find the appropriate meditation aids to assist you.”

The exhausted Healer looked at him and nodded, McCoy saw an unmistakable glimmer of appreciation in her eyes.

“Thank you, Commander. Although first… I believe I would like to see how closely your ship’s food dispensers can reproduce plomeek broth.

“Allow me, Doctor.” Grinning broadly, McCoy led them to officer’s mess.