Unification - Jeri Taylor [57]
He considered ordering an aide to hack it off at the shoulder; such a dismemberment, if it were borne stoically, brought honor. Men often lost limbs in battle, and proudly waved their stumps as badges of courage. He might even be able to concoct a plausible tale to explain the loss of his arm, one which would bring him glory. He mused briefly about this possibility, imagined the bite of the sword into his shoulder, anticipated the sound and the smell as a torch caute-rized the wound. The thought made him dizzy, and as he entered the bridge he had to will himself to walk purposefully past the crew, being careful not to grimace from the pain each step caused.
He was sitting in his command chair, fighting waves of nausea, when the android Data entered the bridge and went directly to a computer station.
“What are you after now?” K’Vada growled, and he heard the sound of pain in his own voice.
The Starfleet officer turned, but K’Vada couldn’t tell if he heard it, too. “I am attempting to penetrate the Romulan data network. It is protected by sophisticated security measures.”
“You have a console in your quarters,” snapped K’Vada, irritated to have this stranger on his bridge now, of all times.
“I am sorry if I am intruding,” replied Data. “You had given your permission for me to use the more powerful computer array on the bridge in order to access the Romulan data banks.”
It was true, he had. It seemed light-years ago that he had dreamt of honor and accolades for accessing Romulan intelligence nets. All that mattered now was ridding himself of the excruciating pain that riddled his body and was beginning to make his vision bleary.
K’Vada blinked through sweat and suddenly saw the android’s pale face just inches from his. He was expressing concern, saying—what? K’Vada squeezed his eyes shut and forced himself to stay conscious.
… seem to be in some distress…” he heard Data saying. “Perhaps I could be of help.” The android was offering to help him. How could he possibly—
“My arm…” breathed K’Vada, desperate as a child.
And Data was gently inspecting his arm and shoulder, his synthetic touch strangely painless. “With your permission, sir?” he asked, and when K’Vada merely nodded grimly, a sudden, simple motion and K’Vada’s arm was resting in its socket, neatly housed, in its correct position, he could tell—the pain still there but somehow dwindling to a tolerable ache.
He tested the motion gingerly. He could lift his armmnot to full height, but the range of motion was surprisingly complete. The pain was receding rapidly.
“I have a hypospray I could apply that would reduce swelling and aid in the healing of the ligaments,” Data was saying. And K’Vada could only nod numbly, more grateful than he would ever be able to admit. The android left the bridge to get his medicaments, and K’Vada felt an unaccustomed stinging in his eye; a wetness formed.
His arm would heal. He would be a warrior once more, claiming honor on the battlefield and acclaim among his fellows. He would lift the bat’lelh in victory, its curved blade streaming blood, and taste the sweet mysteries of conquest and death.
And when, steaming and elated, he confronted K’kam, he would clasp her to him with two strong arms, holding her fury contained until, under his expert ministrations, she erupted in cataclysmic pleasure.
He almost wept with gratitude to the android.
When Spock and Picard transported back to the Kruge, it was in silence. Their discussion in the caves had left Spock with much to ponder, and he assumed from Picard’s quiet introspection that the same was true of the captain.
Nonetheless, he had been intrigued when Picard mentioned the android’s attempt to penetrate the Romulan data banks. This was an audacious endeavor, and perhaps doomed to failure, but Spock knew that its success would probably answer his most deep-seated questions about the Romulan mission.
And so he was curious to see what progress Commander Data had made. When the doors opened to his and Picard’s quarters, Spock was not focused