AUTHOR'S NOTE: I apologize for yet another shortish chapter, but promise the next one will be longer.
7.
As soon as the transport was complete the Captain turned to Dow.
"Please leave us now, Ensign."
To his credit, Dow didn't hesitate. The doors had barely shut upon him when Kirk's proud shoulders went slack. He stifled a moan and swayed.
"Dammit, Jim," the Doctor cursed as he rushed forward and grabbed Kirk by the shoulders. Together they staggered to the platform, where they collapsed to sitting. Kirk put his elbows on his knees, his face in his hands. McCoy opened his medkit.
"I'm going to throw up," Kirk groaned into his hands.
"Well what do you expect?" grumbled McCoy. "You're chock-full of chemicals against the pain, against the nausea, against exhaustion. Ah, what the heck, this'll at least get you to sick bay."
The hypospray hissed against Kirk's neck.
Kirk lifted his face out of his hands.
"I can't go to sick bay," he protested weakly.
His hazel eyes were unfocused, half shut. His face was quickly becoming flushed and beads of sweat were popping out on his forehead. He looked like a feverish child fighting sleep.
Jim had always been quick to fever, in his case usually the sign of a strong immune system. But these chemical fevers, as McCoy called them, came on too quickly, too easily. They did nothing to combat the constant hearths of bacterial infection that were the unremitting legacy of Jim's treatment at the hands of the Gemosians.
And he can't go to Sickbay, he says!
The Doctor slammed down on the sympathy.
"A routine checkup, Captain," he said sternly, standing up.
The drug kicked in. Kirk's eyes focused, and he found the strength to pull himself up by the Doctor's outstretched hand.
"Wow, I could use some of that stuff when the negotiations resume," he mumbled.
"Don't dream about it," growled McCoy, his sense of humor not engaged. This particular potion was his last resort.
I just used our last resort.
He was glad Sick Bay was so close to the transporter room, because he knew they had precious little time.
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"Nurse," he called as they burst into Sickbay. A quick glance revealed there were no other patients or visitors present. Kirk had seen it too, and instantly slumped too much against the Doctor's side. "Nurse!"
Chapel came running from the other room. They helped Kirk onto the nearest biobed. Then the seizure started.
"O God," gasped Kirk, locking himself into fetal position. Racked by convulsion, he also began to wheeze, then choke.
"Doctor, he's going into anaphylactic shock!"
McCoy grimaced. So much for the last resort. The sudden livid red was already draining out of Jim's face. His lips were turning blue. He lost consciousness.
McCoy called out the drugs and administered the hypos Chapel handed him. They got Kirk breathing again, but soon found themselves in an uphill battle against a cascade of complications. The Captain was in no condition to weather one complication, let alone this rejection of one chemical after another. McCoy cursed as very soon Kirk's condition tipped over into septicemia, the systematic poisoning of his life systems by the bacteria that had been held, precariously, in check. As McCoy introduced more and more powerful antibiotics, the destroyed bacteria released more endotoxins into the Captain's bloodstream, adding to the threat of septic shock.
"Run, Christine, to the Kosian guest quarters on Deck Five. Ask for the Queen. Tell her the Captain-no, the Doctor is in need. Hurry!"
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If Nurse Chapel felt any trepidation as she approached the guest quarters (she did – the Captain had briefed the crew not to approach the delegates at the risk of a breach of protocol), she didn't show it. She pressed the small button next to the door and told the young Kosian who answered who she was and that she had a message for the Queen from the Doctor. Within five seconds a young woman, stunningly but coldly beautiful, appeared in the doorway.
"Your Highness," Chapel began, "the Doctor-"
"Show me the way," said the Queen, with a calm urgency that made Chapel wonder if the Doctor had called ahead.
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I'm losing him. Again.
McCoy was in tears as he hovered over Kirk's motionless body. His eyes traveled from the panel above the bed to his patient's face, chalk white, too still. He was helpless. The pulse, barely noticeable, was fading rapidly, and there was not a drug in his arsenal that would make it any different. There was nothing he could do, and he knew his Captain was too weak to do any fighting.
Through a film of tears he had the vision of a young woman who moved like a wisp of smoke to his friend's bedside.
"Please," McCoy begged of the vision.
The Queen put her hand on Jim's forehead, sending a jolt through the indicators on the biobed panel. McCoy stared, and Chapel gasped. They stood riveted.
"He is stabilizing," the Doctor rasped.
He stared in awe at the Queen. She stood next to Jim, so rapt, so commanding, she was almost terrible in her power.
Then he checked the indicators again. They were centering, evening out. Life system upon life system was being pulled back from the brink of ruin. Then the Queen relaxed a little, allowing a small sign of relief on her face, and so confirming McCoy's understanding of how close Jim had come.
Chapel snapped out of it first. She brought a chair for the Queen, who sat down, not breaking her contact with the patient's forehead, not taking her eyes off Jim. McCoy sucked in a quivering, wet breath and allowed himself to sit as well. Chapel handed him a tissue and he wiped his face.
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"What you do-" he said to her when she took back her hand and for the first time in an hour looked away from Jim. "What is it that you do?"
"It's not permanent, Doctor," she responded, reading his mind. "I cannot cure him. The effect is more one of suspension. The pain, the crisis is suspended, for now. He does not get much better. He does not get worse."
"Is that how your husband lived so long with his illness?"
"Yes."
"Do all Kosian women have this gift?"
"We do, but we are not doctors. That is, we can bequeath our gift only to those we love."
"Love?"
"Yes, Doctor, with all our hearts. Our parents, our mates, our children. And Jim Kirk."
She broke into a smile that was too complicated for McCoy to decode but, boy, was he grateful for it!
"We owe you his life," he said solemnly.
"As I owe him mine," she responded, taking him by surprise.
"What happened between you and Jim?" he asked.
"I am sure he wrote a report, Doctor," she said with a smile. "Let him tell the story."
