Two
ON THE BRIDGE of the Enterprise Captain Kirk stared at the blank viewscreen. “Retrace course to Sherman’s planet, Mr. Sulu, and put up the exterior view of those three cruisers as we go.” The bridge crew watched as two cruisers disappeared rapidly. The third trailed them slowly as they turned and headed back out of Klingon space. Finally, satisfied that it was merely surveillance, Kirk said, “Cancel Red Alert, Mr. Sulu. Yellow Alert until that cruiser turns back. Mr. Scott, you have the con.” He stood up giving a brisk tug on his shirt and glanced at Dr. McCoy standing near the turbo lift. “Bones, Mr. Spock.”
The two science officers followed him into the turbo lift. “Conference Room,” he directed the turbo. Mr. Spock, his Vulcan first officer, stood at easy parade rest, his face impassive from black bangs and pointed ears to his angular chin. To his left, Dr. McCoy, senior medical officer, stood with one hand under the other elbow while he chewed thoughtfully on a knuckle. His slim figure conveyed a sense of worried concentration. “Well,” Kirk said, “we know she’s alive and headed into Klingon territory. Beyond that—”
The turbo lift door opened and the trio moved into the conference room. McCoy and Kirk picked up coffee and the three sat down at one end of the large conference table. Kirk’s voice was sober. “You both saw the whole thing including Czerny’s appearance and the Klingon’s report of her condition. What do you think? Bones?”
McCoy shook his head. “It’s hard to say. If the Klingons are telling the truth about the condition they found her in, and it’s plausible based on what we found on Sherman’s planet, then probably she’s suffered a moderate to severe concussion. There’s no predicting how that will affect her memories or her actions, or for how long. Without a chance to examine her that’s about all I can say.”
“Well, she’s obviously alert and functioning now. What about her comment on lourkain? Any mention of that in her medical history?” Kirk asked.
“As you know, Jim, Starfleet doesn’t make a habit of interrogating people with that stuff, but she does have minor allergies to some related compounds. My hunch is they used it on her and found she really is allergic.” McCoy grimaced. “It’s a nasty reaction to handle from what I read, but their M.O.’s must have a lot of experience with it.”
“So that might not indicate anything about her memory. Do you think she’s amnesic? If so, how much and how long?” Kirk pressed his medical officer.
“She certainly could be. Concussions almost always produce amnesia for the immediate injury event and can produce more widespread memory loss. It’s totally unpredictable. In this case I’d say it’s quite likely. I saw no response the whole time she was on the bridge. Did either of you?”
Both Spock and Kirk shook their heads. “Not even to the code.” Kirk ran his fingers through his hair. “And where in blazes did Kang come from? We expected the raid but Starfleet Intelligence was sure it would be Koloth!”
“Actually, Captain, it was estimated that there was an eighteen percent chance that it could be Commander Kang and a seven percent chance of some other Klingon cruiser based on analysis of past deployment of Klingon forces,” Spock pointed out.
“That’s still three-to-one odds on Koloth, Mr. Spock. All right, what do we have on Kangs cruiser?”
Spock called up a Starfleet Intelligence report on the viewscreen, and the three men regarded it glumly. “We have no current information on that, Captain,” Spock finally observed.
“Great. So she’s amnesic, on the wrong ship, and from what she said she has some new strain that Kang wants information about.” Kirk rubbed his right cheek with an unconscious gesture as he recalled the image of Kang standing over Chekov’s writhing form with the Klingon agonizer pressed to his face. “He’ll kill her if need be to get what he wants.” He drew the hand down across his chin in a gesture of frustration, then slapped it flat on the table. “And I can’t prevent it.”
Spock displayed another report on the viewscreen. “Jean Ly-Kieu Czerny. Eurasian. Science Section, agricultural specialist. Her psychometric profile was reviewed before she was considered: xenophobic index remarkably low, less than average paranoid tendencies, generally flexible and resilient in stress situations. Her Sherman’s planet assignment was voluntary. You have no reason to berate yourself for a logical command decision,” Spock pointed out.
“Spock, I swear that green blood of yours is pure computer coolant!” McCoy exploded. “Dammit man, that’s a living, breathing, feeling woman he’s talking about. Kang is probably slowly torturing her to death this very minute. It’s only human that Jim should be upset about it.”
“I’m well aware, Doctor, of human characteristics,” Spock responded frostily. “I merely—”
“Gentlemen, please.” Kirk raised a hand at each. “You’re both right, but that’s my problem and your arguments will help neither me nor Czerny. Let’s take up the problem of the Klingon outpost on Sherman’s planet. That’s another contingency that we didn’t foresee.”