The Taste of Snow, Chapter 2
Their journey seemed as if it had taken a lifetime, but finally they had reached Dantria IV and caught a ground shuttle to the medical complex. They were tired, grubby, and hungry, but Uhura didn't care. She just wanted to get to Saavik as soon as possible. She'd had no contact with Spock since she and McCoy had boarded the Yankee Clipper, and she firmly squelched the traitorous voice in the back of her head that kept reminding her they might be too late.
The shuttle was slowing. This must be the hospital. "Dr. McCoy, wake up. We're there."
"Huh? Sorry, must have dozed off for a few moments. Are we there?"
She was slightly irritated at him for sleeping at a time like this, but of course he had spent nearly a lifetime dealing with one crisis after another and had learned to catch his sleep when and where he could. Besides, she knew very well that her nerves were on edge and most anything at this point was likely to upset her. She took a calming breath before she answered him.
"Yes, Doctor, we're there."
"Good. Could you hand me my bag? Thanks."
After waiting for their turn to disembark from the shuttle, they walked briskly across the plaza in front of the hospital. The weather was damp and overcast, and Uhura couldn't help but shiver. A few late-blooming flowers tried their best to brighten the area, but the effort was lost in the overwhelming grayness.
When they reached the entrance, she stepped back and let McCoy take charge. She'd arranged their transport and dealt with the myriad little details of the trip, but McCoy was in his element now. She listened tensely as he asked the receptionist to access the latest report on Saavik's condition. No change. Closing her eyes in limp relief, she realized a moment later that she had missed the receptionist's instructions about how to locate the infectious diseases unit. Fortunately, McCoy seemed to know exactly where to go.
Without saying a word, he turned and headed for the lift in the center of the lobby, and she tagged along helplessly behind him. When they entered the lift and faced one another, the fear surged back into her aching muscles at the expression on his face. His jaw was set as he met her eyes and shook his head.
"She should have responded by now to the treatment," he said. "I'm afraid that it's not good."
All she could do was nod. Her chest was so tight that she couldn't have talked even if she knew what to say.
Soon they were out of the lift and heading down the long, stark hallway. The echoing of their footsteps seemed to jar the unhealthy stillness of their surroundings. As they walked, she read each sign that they passed: Cardiac Care, Genetics Lab, Long-Term Intensive Care... Infectious Diseases Ward. She took a deep breath, met McCoy's eyes again, and they stepped through the door.
They were faced with another hallway, but Uhura knew immediately which room Saavik was in. There, at the very end of the hall, she glimpsed an open doorway, and beyond that a familiar figure sitting quietly by a bed. She couldn't see who was in the bed, and actually couldn't see more than a portion of the seated person's back and right side, but there was no mistaking the slender hand that rested on the arm of the chair.
Somehow, Spock detected that they were there, and he glanced over his shoulder, rose, and met them in the hallway. No one said anything at first. Searching his face, she saw that it was creased with fatigue and worry, and she was struck with the sudden urge to smooth those lines away. When he met her gaze, though, she saw that just their presence had brought some relief to him, and she had to blink away stinging tears at the gratitude in his eyes.
He finally broke the silence. "Doctor, Commander. Thank you for coming."
"Well, Spock, we were glad to do it," McCoy replied. "I only hope that I can help her."
"That is my hope as well."
"I asked at the front desk and found out that her condition is still critical."
"Affirmative. The treatments have been ineffective. I believe that she is losing ground."
Uhura swallowed. "Can we see her now?"
"Yes, of course. Forgive me."
Spock stepped back and allowed them to precede him into the room.
McCoy went straight to Saavik's bedside while he reached into his medikit for a scanner. Uhura, though, took one step into the room and felt as if her feet were rooted to the floor. There, lost in the big bed, was a wraith, not the wild, energetic, enthusiastic little girl she had come to love. Her small face was pale and waxy, and her chest moved just barely enough to lift the covers that were draped across her body.
Suddenly overwhelmed by the need to touch her, to reassure herself that the small body on the bed was still warm and alive, Uhura moved quickly to brush her fingers against the slack little face on the pillow. She was unable to complete the motion, though, because Spock grasped her hand and stopped her. She looked up at his face in surprise.
"She is in an isolation field. You cannot touch her."
He held her hand until she nodded, and then he released it.
She carefully seated herself in Spock's chair. "Saavik, it's Nyota. I'm here, honey. Dr. McCoy is here, too. We want you to get better."
She watched for any sign of recognition, but of course she didn't receive one. She heard the scrape of a second chair as Spock seated himself next to her, and she met his eyes again before turning back to Saavik. McCoy's scanner whirred in the background while he muttered to himself and studied the readings at the head of the bed.
"I want to tell you about the very first time I played in the snow. I was only four years old, but I remember it clearly. My mother and father bundled me up in so many garments that I could barely move, and I took one step outside and fell flat on my face." Uhura tried to smile. "It scared me! I remember crying and begging my parents to take me back inside. But my sister said that I was a baby, so I stood back up and waded out into my aunt's yard."
McCoy murmured, "I'm going to step outside for a few minutes and get the attendant to page Saavik's doctor."
Uhura saw Spock nod from the corner of her eye. She continued her story. "I ended up having a wonderful time! We made a snowman and snow angels, and we held our open mouths to the sky so that the snowflakes would fall on our tongues. We tasted the snow, Saavik! It tastes sharp and fresh, like winter, and evergreens, and bright sparkling afternoons... and... shining white... Oh, Lord..."
She covered her eyes and tried her best not to cry, but the strain of the long journey, the lack of sleep, the accumulated fear and worry of the last twenty-seven hours, and the unfamiliar stillness of the little girl before her were all too much and she couldn't stop herself. She choked down the urge to sob out loud, but she could not prevent the tears from slipping between her fingers.
Spock sat quietly with her during the long minutes it took for her to regain her composure. When she found that she could draw a normal breath again, she realized with horror that Spock was probably appalled at her emotional breakdown.
Without uncovering her eyes, she whispered, "Spock, I'm so sorry. Forgive me. I didn't mean to act this way, but the reality of seeing her like this, well, I guess I just wasn't prepared for it."
He did not answer. After another minute, she was able to wipe away the tears and turn to him. He drew his brows together and met her eyes.
"You do not need to apologize. Indeed, your reaction was quite understandable." He regarded her for a moment. "Nyota, I am most gratified that you are here. Your compassion is more appreciated than you know. Please do not feel that you cannot express yourself around me. If you wish to cry, cry. I will not be put off by it."
She didn't know what to say to this. Taking a deep breath, she reached out and brushed her fingers against the back of his hand. Her voice was still a little shaky, but she was able to continue her story.
"Saavik, someday I'll take you to Earth, and we'll go to my aunt's house and play in the snow. I promise. Spock can go with us, too, and we'll make sure he tastes it, and then we'll see what he has to say about it."
Raising an eyebrow, he retorted, "I can tell you now what I will say about it. Snow is merely a form of ice and has no true flavor."
Uhura watched him. "We'll make him taste the snow and he'll see. With a little imagination, he'll learn that snow can taste like anything. Anything at all."
She smiled, and she detected a softening of his features in response.
...
Much later that afternoon, McCoy pulled a chair over and sat next to Spock and Uhura. It was obvious from the questioning expression on Spock's face that he understood that McCoy had reached some sort of decision. Uhura, too, turned to him expectantly. Knowing that he was just stalling, McCoy checked the readings over the child's head before speaking.
"Spock, I've just spent the last hour discussing Saavik's treatment with Dr. Mirini, and she agrees with me that we need to be more aggressive and try a new medication. The current approach just doesn't seem to be working."
Spock frowned. "What are the risks?"
"Well, it's possible that this new medication could send her into shock. Also, her blood pressure is already higher than we'd like, and the medication might cause it to rise even higher. I have to point out, however, that the Rigellian Fever has invaded her nervous system to such an extent that the strain from that will continue to elevate her blood pressure anyway. So that part is a trade-off. The worst thing that could happen is cardiac arrest, but we'd be monitoring her closely and I don't think it's likely. I won't lie to you, though, and tell you that it's not possible."
"And if we do not change the medication?"
"She will become weaker. Her fever will continue. Eventually, she will lapse into a coma, and when the virus reaches a critical level in her brain, she'll die."
McCoy hated to be so blunt, but he knew that Spock would accept nothing less than total honesty. As he waited for Spock to make his decision, he thought about how it would be if the tables were turned and it was Joanna lying there as still as death, and he was the one having to decide whether to gamble her life on a risky treatment. He forced his mind away from that and back to the crisis at hand.
He was a bit surprised when Spock turned to Uhura. "What is your opinion?"
"It doesn't sound like we have much choice."
"I agree."
"Then we have your consent?" McCoy asked.
"Yes."
"All right. We're going to have to run some tests before we can do this, and we'll have to give her system some time to flush out the current medication. We'll hurry as much as possible, but it's important that we do this right. I doubt if we'll be able to start until sometime tomorrow. Maybe not until the day after. Anyway, nothing is going to happen soon. When was the last time you took a break, Spock? Ate anything? Slept?"
Spock drew himself up and got that same old damned stubborn look on his face that McCoy had seen about a million times before. Obviously he hadn't done any of those things since this started. McCoy launched into a calculated tirade before Spock had a chance to argue with him.
"Go! Eat something! You aren't going to do her any good if you sit here and make yourself sick. This is going to be a long, drawn-out process, and you might as well get used to the idea that you can't sit here every minute. I've been down to the cafeteria, and it was pretty good. Now, as a doctor and as your friend, I'm telling you to get your skinny Vulcan ass down there and get something to eat."
Uhura touched Spock lightly on the arm. "I'm pretty hungry. Let's go down together and at least have a cup of tea." Spock looked from her to McCoy, and back again. Quietly, she added, "Please?"
Spock tightened his lips in exasperation. "I know when I am outnumbered. Very well. I am wearing a communicator, Doctor. Please contact me if anything changes."
"You know that I will. Uhura, make sure that he stays down there for at least an hour, or go outside and take a walk or something."
She nodded, and the two of them left the room. McCoy stared at the empty doorway for a few seconds before turning back to the little girl. Invoking whatever deities might be listening at the moment, he hoped that he was doing the right thing.
...
"Let's sit over there by the window. I haven't seen the sky since we arrived, and I'd really like to watch the rain."
"That is acceptable."
Spock followed Uhura to the empty table against the wall and seated himself across from her. She immediately busied herself by dumping what seemed to be an alarmingly excessive amount of dressing, salt, and pepper onto the salad that covered her plate.
She caught his expression and smiled guiltily. "Okay, so I'm indulging myself. You know that I don't normally do this."
"True." He picked up his fork and pushed some of his own salad around the plate. It was quite unappealing. Studying a piece of bread, he considered taking a bite of that instead, but it did not look any better. He put it down and gazed out the window for a moment. When he returned his attention to the table, he saw that Uhura was watching him.
"Spock, can't you at least try to eat something?"
"I am not hungry."
"Just try. Maybe your appetite will return."
He picked his fork back up and speared a tiny bit of salad, put it in his mouth, and put his fork down. After he had finished that bite and taken a drink of water, he met Uhura's eyes again.
She sighed. "You just can't do it, can you."
"No."
"Okay then." She stood and picked up both trays. "Mine doesn't look too good, either. Let's get rid of this and go somewhere else. When our shuttle came in, I saw a Chinese restaurant close by. Chinese food, here! I have got to see what kind of food a Chinese restaurant on Dantria would have, and I happen to know that you like Chinese food. It'll do you good to get out of the hospital, even if only for a short while."
"I do not think—"
"I'm not taking no for an answer! Come with me."
He did not move. "If this is a ploy to entice me to eat that salad, I shall do so."
"No! We need to get away from here. I'll make a scene if you don't come with me."
Spock frowned, but before he could reply she put down the trays and grabbed his arm in an attempt to pull him out of his seat. Several other cafeteria patrons had begun to watch them, so he hastily came to his feet. Suppressing a surge of irritation, he had opened his mouth to tell her that he would not leave the hospital, when he noticed the expression on her face. Although frustration was obvious on her tired features, underneath it he could see her concern for him.
He sighed. "Calm yourself, Nyota. I will accompany you."
"Good. I knew you would if I explained it to you logically."
"Do not think that you can use such behavior as leverage against me in the future."
"Are you kidding? Now that I've figured this out, it seems to me that next time you'll just have to listen to me in the first place if you want to avoid being embarrassed."
He shook his head as he followed her out of the cafeteria.
...
"Well, squirt, let's make sure that you're not anemic."
McCoy reset his scanner to register the level of copper in Saavik's blood. Waving it over her motionless body, he nodded in satisfaction.
"Good, good."
He lifted his hand to change the settings again, but paused just before his fingers hit the touchpad. The variance was tiny, and only someone exceedingly familiar with Vulcan physiology might notice it, but this didn't quite look right. Initializing all settings, he started from scratch and rescanned her. There it was again.
Sticking his head into the hall, he saw a nurse leave the next room and caught her attention.
"Nurse? Could you do me a favor and go down to the genetics lab for a minute? I need to run a series R-253 on our little patient here."
The nurse tilted her head and gave him a puzzled look. "Yes, doctor."
McCoy sat back down by Saavik's bedside and studied her thin face. Could it be? He recalled a couple of the stories Uhura had affectionately related to him during their long flight. At the time, he'd just been tickled to envision how Spock had reacted to minnows in the kitchen sink, or how his stoic Vulcan friend had dealt with a child who angrily carried a blanket up a tree and claimed that she was going to live there forever after being scolded for using foul language. Now, though, McCoy realized that he hadn't even considered how atypical Saavik's behavior was for a Vulcan. Why, every Vulcan child he'd ever known was reserved and composed, but this girl was a firecracker.
Damn Spock and his tight-lipped evasiveness! Try as he might, though, he couldn't stay mad at his friend. Spock obviously cared about this child very much. He wouldn't deliberately withhold information that might help her.
The nurse returned with the test kit, and McCoy applied himself to learning the truth about Spock's mysterious little ward.
End chapter 2