The Children of Hamlin - Carmen Carter [50]
A butterfly stroke carried her to the small flat circle that marked the intersection of two spheres. The opaque membrane was smooth and cool to the touch. Yar pushed the palm of her hand against it and felt the surface give slightly. She pushed harder but couldn’t break through. Remembering Riker’s narrow beam assault against the exterior of the spheres, she tried again with palms and fingers pressed together in a diver’s pose, and this time her hands passed easily through the membrane. A swift kick sent her entire body gliding into the next compartment. It was empty, but the one after it was not.
A man was there, floating, eyes closed, listening to the lulling song of the Choraii that reverberated in the chamber. Yar’s entrance stirred the fluid interior, and a current brushing against his bare skin alerted Jason to her presence. She expected him to flee at the sight of a stranger, but he swam toward her instead, curious and trusting. His age was difficult to determine. He was plump, with the smooth, unlined face of a child, but his brown hair was streaked with silver. When he reached her side, she signaled the Enterprise.
The embrace of warm liquid gave way to the sharp bite of air and the dragging weight of her body’s return to gravity. She wasn’t prepared for the shock of transition. A harsh flood of white light blinded her eyes.
Yar tried to breathe. She stumbled to her knees on the transporter platform, coughing convulsively as fluid and air mixed together in her lungs. Racking spasms choked her throat. Seconds later, she passed out.
Chapter Eleven
DR. CRUSHER’S CALL alerted the medical department to incoming casualties from the transporter room. Following her hurried instructions, a team of paramedics and nurses prepared for new patients.
Data was the first to arrive. He ran through the doors of sickbay with Tasha Yar’s unconscious body. The lieutenant had pitched forward off the transporter platform into his arms and, rather than wait for a stretcher, he had carried her in himself.
“Over there,” directed a waiting paramedic, pointing to an empty table.
Data swung the woman onto a scanner bed. Her uniform was sopping wet; her hair was plastered flat against her head.
“Swimming accident?” asked the nurse, but she was too busy checking the diagnostic output to notice that Data did not reply. “Readings approaching normal. Lungs clear of water.”
“Tathwell, I want a chemical analysis of that liquid,” gasped Crusher, coming up behind them. She could smell the lingering scent of cinnamon on Yar’s skin and clothing. When Ruthe and the child had returned to the Enterprise, the Choraii atmosphere had been odorless.
Riker was the last to enter sickbay and hand over his burden to the medics. He had refused Data’s offer to carry both Yar and Jason-however, the effort of keeping up with the android had left the first officer badly out of breath.
“If you’re going to hyperventilate, do it somewhere else,” said Crusher, pushing Riker aside so she could read Jason’s scanner results. “I can’t deal with more than one patient at a time.”
Too winded to reply, Riker let Data ask about Yar and Jason’s condition.
“Stable,” she replied. Like the captive child, Jason had flailed about in confusion when he was beamed aboard, and Crusher’s only recourse had been to sedate him. By the time the doctor could turn her attention to Yar, the lieutenant had already passed out.
“The captain will expect a prognosis for their recovery.” Riker’s chest was still heaving from the exertion of carrying Jason, but he could finally talk.
“Later,” said Crusher brusquely. “After I’ve had a chance to examine them more closely.” She was too preoccupied with monitoring her two patients to spare Riker any further attention, and dismissed him and Data from her mind as soon as they walked out of sickbay.
“Dr. Crusher!” Nurse Tathwell called out changing vital signs as Yar edged back toward consciousness.