DISCLAIMER: Star Trek and all related characters are the property of Paramount Pictures, Inc. and CBS-Paramount Television. No copyright infringement is intended. This work of fiction is for entertainment purposes only and no money has changed hands. The original characters and events are the sole property of the author and may not be used without permission.

STAR TREK:

THE EQUATORIAL

By Darrin A. Colbourne


The Multipurpose Research Laboratory in the Support Section was the one place aboard Enterprise where Lieutenant Flores truly felt at home. It was evident to anyone who saw her. She'd been spending as much of her on-duty time as possible there, taking on the task of studying and analyzing the samples taken from the Junoans herself. It was detailed, tedious work, but work she threw herself into with great satisfaction.

Montoya found that this was the best time to talk to her friend. She'd visited Flores here several times over the past few days and always found the exobiologist either staring at a sample through a holo-microscope or preparing a sample to be looked at. This time it was the former. Montoya just watched Flores for a bit after walking into the lab. The woman looked oblivious to everything else in the space, including the research technicians assisting her.

Looks could be deceiving. "Couldja stop staring?" Flores said without looking up. "You're creeping me out."

Montoya smiled and came closer. "I just didn't want to disturb you. You looked like you were discovering a whole new universe in there."

"Nope, not a new universe, but I think I'm on to a better understanding of this one."

"Elaborate. You can't say something like that and just leave it."

Flores pulled away from the viewer, then leaned back in her seat with her eyes closed. "You know what I see in all these samples I've been looking at?" She opened her eyes and turned to Montoya. "I see us. The Junoans are us, Belle…at least, biologically, they're closer to Human Beings than any race we're currently familiar with. It's like whatever set Earth up to produce us set Juno Prime up to produce something similar…or maybe it's the other way around. Whatever…the point is that the Junoans are a sister race to Humans. They're…well…"

Montoya found the words. "They're the reason we're out here?"

Flores smiled. "They are. We're sitting on a gold mine of information in terms of the Project." She turned back to the microscope. "I just wish there was a better way to collect it."

"We've been doing all right so far…"

"What we've been doing is conducting commando raids on family for a relatively tiny payoff."

"Wendy, we've been through this."

"I know, I know…we can't talk to them so we might as well just invade."

"Would you prefer to wait here another four or five years until we can talk to them?"

Flores turned to Montoya. "Well, why not? We're going to be out here five years anyway! Why not spend them someplace that may give us all the information we need?"

"Suppose we can't get all the information we need here? What if there's an even bigger gold mine out there that we'd miss because we're sitting in orbit here hoping we'll find some kind of Rosetta Stone?"

"That's a flimsy argument and you know it."

"Flimsy it may be, but it's the argument that best reflects reality. We're not spending the entire mission in one spot. We'd all go insane."

"You mean the Starfleeters would go insane if they didn't have anything to shoot at or blow up."

"All right, yes, that's exactly what I mean, and since we rely on the Starfleeters for our transportation, our room and board and our safety I'd rather not go out of my way to drive them all stir crazy!"

Flores looked at Montoya as if the Science Officer had already gone insane. "What is it with you lately?"

"What is it with me? Do you have any idea what you've been sounding like recently?"

"Yes, you when we first met, which is why I wonder what's happened to you since we've been out here. I shouldn't have to tell you how dangerous impatience and recklessness can be to proper scientific study…"

"You don't have to tell me that, but you also don't have to balance that knowledge with the responsibilities that come with being a senior officer on this ship."

"You shouldn't be trying to 'balance' anything. You should be figuring out what your priorities are…"

Montoya snorted. "You think it's that simple? Well, fine. I quit. You can be Science Officer from now on and show me how it should be done."

"Belle, I didn't mean…"

Montoya began to pace. "No, no, I think it would be a great learning experience for both of us. You see, you could show me how to prioritize, and at the same time you could find out what it's like to have to spend most of your time trying to find a way to get two sets of people with almost diametrically opposed outlooks on life working together to help you do your job. You'd also get to experience the joy of having your superiors and your subordinates second-guessing every move you make. And then, to top it all off, you get to spend every single day faced with one nagging, aggravating little reality. You know what that reality is? It's that no matter how frustrating your job gets, no matter how much you ache to tear everything apart and start fresh in a manner more to your liking, you can't" - she stopped pacing and leaned right into Flores's face - "because it's not your ship, which means that everyone and everything you use to achieve your goals are simply made available to you at someone else's whim, and everything you achieve can be completely undone the same way! You want to know what it is with me, Wendy? That's what it is!"

She pulled away from Flores and headed for the door. The lab was quiet enough for everyone to hear the soft shhh of its opening, and Montoya was halfway through the doorway before Flores broke the silence. "I'm sorry!" Montoya stopped without turning. When she didn't respond right away, Flores spoke again. "I'm sorry. I didn't know."

Montoya thought for a moment before turning her head to respond. "We'll start sending recordings of Junoan broadcasts back to Earth along with Jim's research so far. With more people working on it there we might be able to break the language barrier sooner, but for now you'll just have to be satisfied with what information you can get through our commando raids."

There was a short pause, then Flores said softly, "Aye, Sir."

The tension between them dropped away almost immediately with that. It made Montoya smile before she left the lab for good. Flores watched the door close behind her, then sighed and turned back to the microscope, trying to lose herself in her work.


The Voyeur teams had been operating for four nights with a success rate no one had expected and the team members were almost afraid to brag about. Everyone involved was fully cognizant of the old axiom "No battle plan ever survives contact with the enemy." It was the military version of Murphy's Law: Whatever can go wrong, will. The fact that nothing had gone wrong to this point was satisfying, but it was a situation that couldn't last forever, and in the backs of their minds the team members were all dreading the eventual foul-up.

Still, the worry didn't stop Team One from deploying on their latest mission with a visible confidence. Even Corpsman Depardieu's earlier misgivings had been allayed by experience. She was learning to gather the samples more efficiently each time she did it, and she was enjoying working with her teammates. The Landers, meanwhile, were hooked on being able to demonstrate their ability to reach out and touch their targets without the targets being any the wiser. The target this time was a Junoan woman who lived alone on a small, sparsely-planted farm on one of Juno Prime's Northern continents. There was no watchdog to worry about as there had been with their other targets, so this deployment required different preparations, but everyone expected it to go well. "A quick in-and-out," as Savage had put it, and the Junoan loner would just be one more notch on their respective belts.


There were, of course, some things Team One couldn't know about their target. One thing was that she was one of her world's most renowned artists, a painter who had become one of the lucky few who had managed to become wealthy from the sale of her work. Her paintings graced the walls of famous galleries, the estates of wealthy collectors and prominent officials and the covers of periodicals with worldwide circulations. Commissioning her to do a flattering portrait was one of the "in" things to do among the world's celebrity set, meaning that she could command staggering prices from people more than willing to pay them. Many of the world's leading intellectuals could be counted among her admirers, and more than once she'd been asked to voice her opinions on subjects such as politics, religion and culture.

Another thing Team One couldn't know: The artist was sick of all of it. She had come to hate the fame and adulation because they did nothing to help her solve a serious problem. She found herself blocked creatively, so accustomed to doing commissioned works whose details were dictated by others that it had been months since she'd been able to simply paint for the sheer joy of it, create a work that satisfied her and not just a paying customer. It was true that she lived alone, but that was by design. She'd bought the farm and moved there from the city two months before Enterprise's arrival in the hope that the isolation would provide a creative spark. It was something that was hard to explain to others. Everyone from her family to her fans to her neighbors wondered why she hadn't simply taken a vacation in some exotic locale, or bought a mansion in a well-to-do community. She kept having to explain why the little house on the small, nearly barren farm was perfect for her needs…or so she'd thought initially. The fact was the canvas she'd prepared for the resurgence of her creativity was still blank after all that time, and recently she'd begun to despair of ever doing anything truly unique again.

Still, she found she couldn't give up all hope, so while she waited for inspiration to strike she filled her days by working on commissions, getting supplies and conversing with her nearest neighbors, including a stout, friendly woman who'd offered several times since the artist moved in to send her husband and sons around to bring the farm up to a proper state. The offer was always politely declined, but welcome nonetheless. There was something comforting about living near such good plain folk that she appreciated, creative block or not.

The day before Voyeur Team One embarked on the mission to her farm unfolded much as any other day. She put the finishing touches on a painting meant to be used for a magazine cover, went into town to buy grain and paints and gossiped with the stout, friendly neighbor. That evening she spent an hour after dinner drinking a cup of hot tea and staring at the blank canvas, wondering if that night would be the night inspiration struck. When nothing happened she sighed, spent an hour or so talking with her sister via wire communicator and went to bed early with a good book.


She'd been asleep for hours by the time Ensign Ajami radioed "One minute, on final," to the team in Hauler Three's cargo bay. The re-entry and transit to the farm had been textbook so far, with little or no evasive maneuvering required in the flight plan. Lt. Ochoa welcomed it. It meant a shorter transit time back and forth, which translated to less time strapped into the pilot seat. He picked a barren field in the Northern part of the farm to land in, touched the ship down lightly and opened the loading hatch with a contact on his control panel.

Savage was on the ground first and providing security as Mbinga led the rest of the team off in the direction of the farmhouse. He fell into step behind Depardieu as the team advanced at a quick jog. The general state of the surrounding fields meant that there was little or no cover for them to use to approach the house, so they were counting on speed to help keep them hidden from prying eyes.

They encountered another problem near the objective. Mbinga saw that a light was on through one of the windows of the ranch-style house. He gave the team the "Hold" signal and covered the rest of the distance at a low crouch, Phaser at the ready. When he was close enough he flipped up his low-light goggles and crept up to the wall to one side of the window. He waited a second or two to be sure no one inside saw him, then leaned over and peered in the window. It was the bedroom. The target was resting comfortably, curled up in bed with a book resting on her stomach.

Mbinga drew his Childress after holstering his Phaser. He set the weapon on full-auto, took careful aim and fired. The particle beam burned through the window glass and through the bulb in the lamp by the bed. The light went out with a soft pop. Mbinga waited until he was sure the target hadn't been roused, then keyed his mike twice and proceeded to the house's front door, replacing his goggles as he went. He waited until the rest of the team was in sight before trying the door. He found it locked. Another obstacle, but not an unexpected one. In planning the mission, it had been determined that someone intent on living such an isolated existence would probably be the type to lock her door.

After a few moments of examination Mbinga found the door was locked with a simple deadbolt. He held his Childress high and aimed along the seam of the door by the doorknob. It only took a second for the beam to cut through. Mbinga opened the door, switched weapons again and swept the living room. He gave the all-clear signal and the team entered the way they had done several times before, gathering in the bedroom when they were sure the house was clear.

Depardieu got started right away, with Savage assisting her. She administered the sedative to the subject and gave her eyes a cursory check before getting ready to set up the scanner and start taking samples.


The isolation had started to affect the artist's dreams. In one she'd had many times since moving to the farm she found herself sitting on an endless grassy plain looking in vain for something she'd lost, although she was never exactly sure what it was she was missing. Some nights she would only be on the plain for a heartbeat, others for a few minutes, but every time she was there alone, with no other soul to be found.

This time was different. She heard the buzzing of some insect nearby. She looked around to see if she could find it, but it remained invisible to her until it bit her on her neck.

She woke up in the middle of the night gasping for breath! Her lungs hurt from the effort…


"Whoa!" Savage called out. The subject jerked upright in the bed, eyes bugged out and throat rasping! The sudden movement made all the Landers jump and made Depardieu stare wide-eyed for a split-second before her training took over.

"Lay her back down!" She called out. Savage and Heinemann moved to comply, forcing the woman back down in the bed. Her arms flailed as they did so and she wheezed painfully with the effort to breathe.

"Hold her down!" Depardieu said as she broke out a med kit.


She tried to grab her chest, but something was holding her arms down, holding her down! There were people in her room, people in shadow…
"What's going on?" Togusa yelled.

"I don't know!" Depardieu said. "I won't know till I examine her!" She approached the bed and tried to do just that, but the woman was thrashing around too much. "Can't you hold her still?"

"We're trying!" Heinemann said.


They were arguing with each other in some foreign language. She struggled against them, but it was no use! The ones holding her in the bed were too strong…
Depardieu placed the lead to a radio stethoscope to the subject's chest and put the audio pickup to her own ear. "Her lungs are closed up!" She said a second later. "I can help her to breathe but not if she keeps moving around like this!"

"We're open to suggestions!" Savage said as he and Heinemann struggled with the patient.

Depardieu pulled away and looked around frantically trying to figure out what to do, then she looked at Mbinga. "Stun her!"

"What??!" Mbinga said.

"Do it!" Togusa said. "Flash only, right now!"

Mbinga checked the setting on his Phaser and then aimed it at the target's eyes…


One of the shadows barked what seemed like an order. Another pointed a rod at her. There was a flash of light, then nothing…
Depardieu pushed the Landers away and descended on her patient as soon as she went limp. She listened to the Junoan's chest again. "Heartbeat's erratic!" She put the scope away and checked the woman's throat with a small flashlight. "Her throat's closed up as well!" She went back to the med kit and broke out a small rebreather with medical tubing attached. She went back to the woman. "Hold her mouth open." She said to Savage. The Lander complied and Depardieu guided the free end of the tube down the Junoan's throat as quickly and gently as she could manage. When it was in as far as she could get it she started the rebreather. A moment later the object was breathing for the woman, forcing fresh oxygen into her lungs and extracting carbon dioxide. Depardieu listened to her chest again. Her heartbeat began to steady and slow down, and her lungs were expanding and contracting in time with the rebreather's operation.

Depardieu turned to Togusa. "This is a temporary fix at best. We need to get her back to the ship."

"No way," Togusa said. "You know the rules as well as I do."

"She can't breathe on her own! If we leave her here like this she'll die!"

"We're carrying half of Sick Bay on our backs. Can't you do something for her here?"

"No, because I need things in the half of Sick Bay we're not carrying to help her start breathing on her own and find out what closed up her throat and lungs in the first place!"

"We can't take her, Doc."

"We can't leave her, Staff Sergeant!"

Togusa and Depardieu stared each other down for several seconds. None of the other Landers would have laid odds either way on who'd win the standoff, but they were all secretly glad when Togusa turned away and keyed his mike. "Voyeur One to Voyeur Six."


"Commander," The Communicator said, "Voyeur One is calling Voyeur Six."

Montoya felt her heart leap into her throat. "Voyeur Six" was what the Voyeur teams knew her as, the officer in overall charge of the sample recovery mission. She hadn't expected to hear them use the term, however, since they were only to call the ship if something went horribly wrong on the mission and so far there hadn't been any problems. Complacency truly was a bitch. She touched a contact on the center chair's control panel. "This is Voyeur Six. Go ahead."

Togusa's voice sounded over the PA in Control. "Request permission to medevac target to Prize ASAP, over."

Medevac? "Say again, Voyeur One?"

"Request permission to immediately evac target to Prize for medical evaluation and treatment, Six, over."

Was he crazy? Her response was automatic. "Negative, Voyeur One! Do not remove target from her environment, over!"


"She said 'No.'" Togusa said to Depardieu.

The corpsman glared at him. "Make her understand!"

"It's her call, Doc!"

"She's not here and we don't have time to follow the rules of engagement! Make her understand!" She turned away and went back to check her patient's vitals.


"Be advised, Six," Togusa's voice said, "target will expire without further medical attention, over."

Montoya's eyes went wide. What the hell is going on down there? "Say again, Voyeur One? The target will expire?"

"That's affirmative, Six. We need to get her to Sick Bay ASAP."

Montoya stood and began to pace. There were a million reasons why they shouldn't bring the Junoan aboard, all of which had been spelled out in the Voyeur Teams' initial briefings. It was the one thing they absolutely couldn't do. That thought kept going through her mind. It could be dangerous for the Junoan and the Enterprise's crew. She knew that and, presumably, Togusa knew it as well. So what was going on? Had they come across a sick woman when they invaded her bedroom, or…

"Do you copy, Six?" Togusa said.

"Roger, Voyeur One," Montoya said abruptly, "copy your last transmission. Stand by." She wanted time to think…no, she needed time to think. What she wanted was for Togusa to spell out exactly what was happening down there, but that entailed its own risks. Every moment they spent on the radio increased the risk of detection by the Junoans. They might not be able to decipher the transmissions, or even recognize what they were hearing as communication between spacecraft and surface, but the radio waves themselves were detectable and traceable, so the rules of engagement said keep all transmissions short and sweet. If the story Togusa had to tell was a complex one…she had to wait until the team returned to the ship, that much was certain. The problem was that it meant she had to make a decision about the Junoan before they could leave, and she didn't want to make that decision blind.

The target will expire. Did that mean she was dying when they got there, or did it mean something they did while they were there had put her in danger? If it were the latter, Montoya had no right to deny her help. "Voyeur Six to Voyeur One: permission granted. I'm releasing Hauler Three to operate at your discretion." She signaled to the Communicator, who nodded and relayed her orders to Hauler Three. "Do what you have to do. Voyeur Six, out." When the channel was cut, she said to the Communicator, "Have Sick Bay prepare for casualties and send a medical team to the Flight Bay. Contact Doctor Boyce and alert him to what's going on…and call Captain Pike to Control."


Hauler Three was already on his way when Togusa contacted the transport and called for a medevac. The Staff Sergeant sent Mbinga and Savage out to wait and collect a stretcher from the cargo bay as soon as Ochoa landed in front of the farmhouse. When they left he turned to Depardieu. "How is she?"

The corpsman was setting up the portable scanner. "Her vital signs are weak, but stable. Her lungs still sound blocked. This will tell us for sure what we're dealing with."

"You can do that in the transport. It's gonna be here any second. Right now we need to get her ready to move." At that moment they heard the sharp whine of the Workhorse's sublight engines. "There we go. Freddy, get out there and make sure the noise didn't attract any witnesses."

Heinemann drew his Phaser and left the room. Depardieu broke down the scanner and set it aside, then she and Togusa removed the bedcovers from the Junoan and positioned her to slide onto the stretcher. Mbinga and Savage arrived with the stretcher seconds later and held it as Togusa and Depardieu carefully slid the woman on and secured her. They departed at a run soon after, with Depardieu running along side. Togusa lagged behind to police the bedroom. He grabbed the scanner from where Depardieu had left it, then followed his team out.

Savage and Mbinga got into the transport first and secured the stretcher in a special recess along one of the bulkheads in the cargo area. They also pulled out a folding gee-couch for Depardieu to strap into so she could monitor the patient on the way back. The stretcher and Depardieu were settled in by the time Togusa and Heinemann stepped aboard. The Landers made their way to the passenger area as the loading ramp closed. Seconds later, Hauler Three was streaking into the sky.


"What's going on?" Pike said as soon as he entered the control room.

Montoya turned to him. "We've had a problem with the Voyeur team. There was a medical emergency."

"One of the Landers?"

"No, the target."

Pike's eyebrow went up. "What's the nature of the emergency?"

"I don't know for sure. All I was told was that she'd die without medical attention."

"There's a corpsman on the team, isn't there?"

"Sergeant Togusa said she needed to be brought to Sick Bay. I can only assume that means that Corpsman Depardieu tried to help, but couldn't, so they're bringing her aboard."

"Wait…they're bringing a Junoan here? They're not supposed to take any of the natives off the planet."

"I know that…"

He crossed his arms and glared at her. "You were the one who said we shouldn't take the natives off the planet! You were adamant about it!"

"Sir, I had to let them bring her! As I said, I have no idea what happened, but if that woman's life is in jeopardy because of something we did, we owe it to her to do everything we can for her."

Pike just stared at her for a moment, then said, "All right, what are we doing up here?"

"I've had a medical team sent to the Flight Bay to assist with the patient and I've alerted Doctor Boyce and Sick Bay."

"Is Lieutenant Flores still aboard?"

"Yes, Sir. She's not scheduled to land again until tomorrow night."

"Well, get her up, too. She's the closest thing we've got to an expert on these people."

"Yes, Sir."

"After that, you're relieved."

"Relieved, Sir?"

"We're going to be taking that transport aboard in almost no time at all. When the Landers disembark you need to be there to find out from the team leader what the hell went on down there, right?"

Montoya nodded. "Right."

"I'll take over up here. Get going."

"Yes, Sir." She hesitated only long enough to have the Communicator have Flores report to Sick Bay, then left Control at a jog.


There were two more corpsmen waiting by the airlock doors with an anti-grav stretcher when Montoya arrived. She waited with them until Hauler Three landed. All too soon the airlock doors opened. The corpsmen went through as soon as they had enough room. They were on their way back by the time the doors were fully open. Depardieu was giving them the particulars of the case as they made their way to the lift. "…extra-terran female, looks like she's in her late thirties, heart-rate and blood pressure are weak and she's in respiratory distress, possibly anaphylaxis."

Montoya followed them with her eyes. The Junoan was strapped to a smaller stretcher and that stretcher was resting on the anti-grav one. The woman was fair-skinned and blond and wearing a simple nightgown. She looked pale and weak, and there was a medical device in her mouth breathing for her. Montoya watched until the corpsmen boarded the cargo turbolift with their charge, then turned away as Togusa and the others walked into the hangar. She stood in Togusa's path. "What happened down there?"

Her tone was confrontational, but Togusa suppressed his emotions before he responded. "We ran into a snag. The mission was going fine up until Depardieu administered the sedative. Instead of falling into a deeper sleep the target woke up unable to breathe. Depardieu administered first aid on scene, but advised me that she would need better medical care than we could provide and recommended we bring her here. I concurred and called you."

Montoya forced herself to calm down and continued. "Did any of you do anything else to her besides administer the sedative?"

Togusa didn't like the implication, but answered honestly in an even tone. "We also stunned her."

"Stunned her? Are you insane? Why…?"

"It was Depardieu's idea. The target wouldn't stay still long enough for us to help her."

"She woke up to a room filled with armed men, Sergeant! How still would you be?!"

"In any case, stunning her allowed us to do what we could for her before bringing her here."

Montoya calmed herself down again. "Do you think the sedative had anything to do with what's happening to her?"

"Depardieu thinks so. Again, I'm inclined to agree."

Montoya felt herself go numb. She began to pace, thinking about the implications of what she'd been told. She stopped just long enough to tell Togusa, "Get to Decontamination."

"Aye Sir," he said, then he led his men to the lifts. He glanced back at Montoya just before he boarded. She looked lost in thought, and whatever was going through her mind didn't look pleasant. He just hoped that whatever it was wouldn't mean anything dire for his team. They had done their jobs, plain and simple, and run into a snag. He decided then and there to stand by them, no matter what the Science Officer decided to do.