The Devil's Heart - Carmen Carter [17]
Picard was just as quick at anticipating Data’s next request.
“You know how I feel about mysteries, Mr.
Data; it may be inconsequential, but I still want it explained. Proceed with your investigation.”
The slow, measured beat of the diagnostic scanner exploded into a flurry of sounds and flashing lights. Seconds later the chief medical officer and two nurses were clustered around T’Sara’s bed. The Vulcan woman had remained limp and unresponsive when her wounds were first tended, but now her limbs twitched ever so slightly with muscular tension.
“She appears to be coming out of the healing state,” said Crusher as she tracked the life function indicators. Despite the wild fluctuations, the overall pattern was of an increase in cellular and metabolic activity. “But dammit, it’s too soon! The tissue damage has barely begun to regenerate. If she wakes up now, she’ll die of her injuries.”
At this point, Crusher knew the ideal treatment was for a Vulcan healer to forge a mind-link and guide the patient back into the trance, but not even Selar was qualified to initiate that therapy.
Fortunately, there were cruder methods available to persuade the body to resume its regenerative efforts.
“Ten cc’s of Tochizine.” Crusher held out her hand and felt the satisfying weight of a loaded hypospray slap into her open palm.
The doctor pressed the instrument against the base of the patient’s neck and triggered a spray of the drug through the skin.
“Metabolic activity is stabilizing … decreasing,” confirmed Nurse D’Airo. She began to read off the declining values, then paused. When she resumed the count, the numbers were climbing again.
“Fifteen cc’s of D’armacol,” ordered Crusher, but neither that nor an additional fifteen cc’s of Hyzolidine had any lasting effect on the readouts. “It’s as if her body is constantly adjusting to the injections and neutralizing the effects.”
Crusher accepted a recharged hypo from D’Airo and positioned it against bare skin, but she did not trigger the blast. The Vulcan’s drive to regain consciousness could not be repressed without a massive chemical assault tha t would do equal damage to her weakened system.
Then T’Sara snapped open her eyes; they were onyx-black and clear of any confusion.
“All right,” said Crusher softly. “If this is what you want.”
T’Sara extended a thin, spindly arm toward the doctor. From a Human the gesture might have appeared imploring, but there was no mistaking the imperious demand of a Vulcan. The fingers of the hand flexed, then clenched like steel clamps around a fold of Beverly’s coat. Even nearing death, T’Sara had sufficient strength to pull the doctor closer until the old woman’s mouth was pressed against Crusher’s ear.
T’Sara’s hoarse whisper was like a gust of desert air. “Ko N’ya … the blood never stops flowing.”
Picard had managed to catch a few hours sleep since his last visit to sickbay, but he suspected his chief medical officer had not been so lucky. Standing in the close confines of her office, he could hear a rasp in Beverly’s voice and see dark smudges forming beneath her eyes.
“Are you sure that’s what she said?” asked Riker.
“Yes, I’m sure.” Crusher had delivered her medical report with a crisp detachment, but now that it was over she shoved aside her medical padd and sagged back into her desk chair.
“T’Sara spoke quite clearly … before she died.”
Picard saw Beverly’s gaze shift away to the sickbay ward outside her office; he glanced back in time to see two nurses lift a still, covered body onto an antigrav sled.
By the time he and Riker left this office, T’Sara would be gone, whisked away from the presence of the living.
Having witnessed Sarek’s last days of suffering from Bendii’s syndrome, Picard wondered if this was a more merciful end.
“What does that mean? Ko Ni—” Riker faltered over the delicate contraction of the syllables.
“Ko N’ya,” corrected