Star Trek_ A Choice of Catastrophes - Michael Schuster [53]
When the alarm rang out, he almost dropped his instruments.
“What the hell is it now?” he said, fearing the worst. A look at the monitor didn’t improve matters: all the readings were dropping. The indicator for neural activity was approaching zero—brain death was imminent. “How is this possible?”
Not only was the man’s brain shutting down, he was going into cardiac arrest. McCoy had no idea what could cause this, but there was no time to guess—he had to act. He tried everything he could think of. Nothing. Not even a high dose of cordrazine could get the man back.
“No, no, no!” This shouldn’t be happening.
Luke Hendrick drew his last breath.
“There’s no reason he should be dead, goddammit!” McCoy said, almost shouting. Giving in to his anger, he slammed his fist on the medical monitor. He wanted to hit something, hit it hard. “Time of death: 1819 hours, Stardate 4757.8. Name: Luke Hendrick, senior chief petty officer. Cause: unknown complications, possibly due to spinal injuries. Exact cause to be determined.” He gazed down at the still form of the man, who should still be alive.
“You did everything you could,” Chapel said.
McCoy sighed and turned away from the body, forcing himself to accept that he hadn’t been able to save Hendrick. Moving on to the next patient, he stopped after a few steps and turned around.
Chapel had been just a step behind him. “What is it, Doctor?” she asked, worried.
McCoy stood there, watching her. He could hear all the sounds around him—people talking, machines beeping, whirring, thrumming. Precious seconds passed before the doctor shook off the feeling of detachment. There was no time for woolgathering; he needed to get back to work. “Brent,” he said at last, “please take the body to the morgue.”
Once a patient is dead, you’re done. I should hardly be surprised. You abandoned me before I died.
What? Jocelyn wasn’t dead—
With a rush that made him dizzy, the doctor realized that the voice wasn’t his ex-wife’s. It had morphed into another one—that of his father. The father he’d let die four years ago now, taking him off life support rather than letting him continue to suffer.
And what did you do then? Jocelyn’s voice asked. Signed up for duty on Capella IV, to get as far away from Earth as possible. Running away from your problems and your pain. Absolutely typical.
No, no, no! He couldn’t afford this now! McCoy was usually at his best under pressure—he needed to stay focused. The voices had faded when he was occupied. If he threw himself into his work—
As always.
—he could stop them. Or at least quiet them. Time to get back to work, then.
There was little time for McCoy to think about anything other than the problem in front of him—rebuilding a shattered knee, closing a deep gash. The doctor did wonder when the stream of new patients would stop. He kept worrying about the espers, the mystery behind their comas.
Damn it all. He’d forgotten one of the most important lessons he’d learned from his father—and the one he’d found most difficult to accept—don’t let the work get to you, keep some distance from everything. McCoy liked to complain about the loss of compassion in modern medicine. But secretly, he agreed that a level of detachment was necessary.
And you’ve become too attached, to this ship, this crew. You never were attached to me. It scared you. That’s why you always moved on. You left me behind, you should leave these people behind too.
He’d never left Jocelyn behind! What was the voice even talking about?
I’m not Jocelyn. Don’t you recognize me?
Joanna. His only child, born out of a crumbling marriage. He’d wanted custody of her, but hadn’t gotten it.
By your own choice!
They still talked, exchanging messages. Joanna was in high school, and she’d mentioned something about going into medicine.
There’s a way to practice medicine… and what you do isn’t right. You’re not a doctor because you believe in it, you never chose the life you live. What you chose was escape.
No, that wasn’t true! McCoy ignored the voices as best he could and focused