Myriad Universes 02_ Echoes and Refractions - Keith R. A. DeCandido [46]
“Surprisingly well,” McCoy said. “No sign of any physical trauma. She’s a little weak; probably hasn’t eaten much during her captivity. But she’ll be fine.” He turned to face David, who had released Saavik from his embrace and had dropped into the chair next to hers, allowing himself to rest for the first time that day, if not in months. “Oh my God,” McCoy said, noticing for the first time the severed limb. He adjusted the tricorder for the relevant diagnostic and began waving the scanner over the amputation site. He then readjusted the settings, and proceeded to scan David’s entire relaxed form.
Kirk looked on anxiously. “How is he, Bones?”
McCoy gave a slight shrug. “Physically, his wounds have all healed. Not surprisingly, he’s suffering some long-term effects of stress, but those will subside in time. But Jim…Lord only knows what they’ve been through psychologically. They’re going to need more help than what I can offer.”
“We’re fine,” David said. He looked over to Saavik, who smiled back at him meekly, but her uncertain expression suggested that she likely did not share his sunny self-diagnosis. “What?” David responded with indignity. “We were pretty much left alone the whole time we were held on Praxis. We never even saw Kruge while we were there.”
Saavik turned to Kirk. “We were placed with the general population at a detention facility in one of the smaller mining towns on the surface of the Klingon moon, presumably so that Kruge could conceal his plans from the authorities on Qo’noS,” she explained. “The inmates were mostly petty criminals. There was little significant danger.”
“The Klingons were just normal people,” David said. “I got to know a few of them. Just people-who had families, and their own hopes and dreams. Nothing like that Kruge,” he said with a scowl. “That man is insane with paranoia.”
“I’m not surprised,” Kirk said. “You know, he’s afraid of you.”
“Huh?” David said incredulously. “Afraid of me? Why?”
“They fear the power you hold over them.”
David shook his head. “I certainly never meant for anyone to fear me or my work.”
“Best laid plans of mice and men,” McCoy said.
David struggled to remember the significance of the phrase. “I don’t understand. That’s from a book, isn’t it?”
“That’s right,” Kirk replied. “A poem, actually. It means that despite our best intentions, things often don’t turn out like we’d planned.”
David considered this. “Yeah, I guess. So now that my life’s work is destroyed, what do I do now?”
“You figure out where you belong, David,” Kirk assured him. “Where you can make a difference. And whatever you decide to do, I’ll be behind you.”
Back aboard the Katai, Sulu settled into the pilot’s chair at the helm. “Did anyone think to bring a translator for written Klingon?” he chuckled.
“Take your time, Sulu,” Thelin responded. “We’re in no huge hurry to get back. For all we know, Federation police will be waiting to arrest us the moment we enter Earth orbit.” He turned toward the line of prisoners standing in front of the navigation and weapons stations and gestured toward the doors with his phaser. “All right, all of you. To the transporter room. Let’s go.”
The Klingons moved in single file toward the exit. Kruge brought up the rear, following Maltz, with Thelin next to him, keeping him under guard. As they passed the final console closest to the doors-the weapons console-Kruge suddenly barked out, “Maltz! DaH!!!” And Kruge spun around, lunged, and grabbed Thelin by the throat.
Taken completely by surprise, the Andorian stumbled backward several steps and wheezed as the fingers of Kruge slowly constricted his windpipe, while the Klingon’s hot breath beat down upon him.
In the same instant, Maltz whirled to face the weapons console directly behind him. Several feet away at the helm, Sulu leaped from his chair.
Thelin, still gripping his phaser firmly in his