"Shuttlepod Two to Sickbay, medical emergency. Please meet us in the launch bay."
Doctor Pulaski raised her head in alarm from her laboratory samples, but before she could step towards the door Worf's unmistakable brusque tones issued from the comm.
"Cancel that request, Doctor. I shall require treatment in Sickbay, that is all. We are about to dock and I will make my own way there. Worf out."
The link closed; the Security chief was never one to waste words, or indeed mince them. She winced, imagining whoever had sent the original message receiving a withering glare for following procedure.
Son was still in his den. He had been enchanted with the PADD Keiko had given him, and refused to be parted from it; the sound of the recorded voices on it had been a background noise to her work all morning. Hearing the sudden small disturbance, he peered out warily, holding the PADD protectively to his chest.
Katherine was laying out her emergency treatment kit when the doors opened and Lieutenant Worf came in, closely followed by the captain and Will Riker. The lieutenant's face and neck were streaked with blood, and he was scowling deeply; both of his senior officers' faces were grave.
"There was an incident down on the planet, Doctor," Worf said without preamble. He appeared to be positively glowering, but possibly that was just normal reaction from something having gone wrong with the away mission under his command. "We were attacked by predators – some species of huge wolf – and my faceplate was broken.
"The scratches were merely from some kind of thorny plant. I believe they are only minor. Unfortunately, I was obliged to breathe in some of the planet's atmosphere." The glower became even more pronounced, as though he were admitting to some heinous failure of duty. "I instructed the rest of the landing party to keep their breathing apparatus in use so that the air in the shuttlepod could be cycled and cleaned prior to returning to the ship. I myself used a breathing mask during the operation – this has been placed in isolation with the rest of the protective equipment, for whatever decontamination you deem necessary."
The implications of his breathing that atmosphere were obvious, though even if the scratches were only minor (and on a planet as hostile as this one that could not be taken for granted) they would still have to be thoroughly disinfected as soon as possible. She directed him immediately to lie down on one of the bio-beds, swinging into position a ventilation chamber to help draw whatever was left of the contaminant from his lungs. "Breathe slowly and deeply," she ordered, as the seals clicked shut.
The computer began analysing the results immediately. Sure enough the tell-tale spikes appeared, but they were relatively low; it seemed he had not suffered prolonged exposure.
She prepared a hypospray for use as soon as he was released, once again silently blessing the work of whatever unknown scientist had so meticulously recorded the results of his or her research all those years ago. Only a small amount of the psychotropic would have entered Worf's bloodstream, and she hoped and believed that the contents of the hypospray would prevent it from affecting his brain.
"Your conclusions, Doctor?" asked the captain as she laid it down ready, waiting for those spikes to flatten out and disappear as the air in his lungs was filtered clean.
"He should be fine, though I'll keep him under observation for twenty-four hours. I think he'd have had to be exposed to it for a lot longer than this for it to have any significant long-term effects. The scratches seem harmless enough, but they'll need to be cleaned, just in case." She moved to the ship-wide environmental controls to increase the filtration levels to maximum; the amount he would have exhaled since removing his breathing apparatus would be minimal, but there was no sense in taking chances. "Was anyone else injured?"
The question was almost rhetorical; if there had been any other casualties they would have been in here by now. Nevertheless, apprehension caught her by the throat as she saw the expressions on the faces opposite her.
"Crewman Hayes was killed during the course of the attack," said Riker soberly. "He safeguarded the others' retreat, but couldn't make it himself."
"His conduct was that of a true warrior," Worf interjected, his voice echoing faintly from the ventilation chamber. "Were he a Klingon, he would be warmly welcomed in Sto'Vo'Kor for his bravery."
"Oh, no!" She knew Michael Hayes, a polite, usually serious young man with a rare, shy smile.
"No." The sound was so deep and unexpected that for a moment none of them knew where it had come from. Then they turned as one to stare at Son, who was scowling at them from his den. Even Worf tried to lean up and peer through the side of the ventilator.
"Do you know anything about this?" demanded the captain.
"No-tail...not..." The old man shook his head in frustration, clearly seeking for the words, which came slowly and with difficulty. "Br..brother ... brothers ... not die him."
"They attacked him and dragged him away!" exclaimed Worf.
"Not die him!" Son snarled.
"Please. We need to understand." Jean-Luc crouched down in front of him and spoke urgently. "If they did not kill him, what did they do with him? Why did they capture him?"
Sato-Reed growled and retreated. "H'nt faarthr!"
Will was wide-eyed. "Sir, is he saying...?" He stopped as Katherine laid a hand on his sleeve and shook her head.
"Son." Picard paused, seeming to marshal his thoughts and compose himself. When he spoke again, he was leaning forward and speaking weightily, as though trying his utmost to make himself believed. "We did not come here in pursuit of your father. We had no idea that he or anyone else was here."
The old man growled low in his throat, but he was still listening.
"If your father – or your mother – told you anything of their lives aboard Enterprise, they will have told you that they were on a mission of exploration. Peaceful exploration," he added with emphasis. "The ship's mission was to reach out, to discover new civilisations. To learn – not to conquer, or enslave, or kill. That is still Enterprise's mission. I give you my solemn word, if your father is here he is in no danger from us."
Listening, the doctor found herself wondering unwillingly if for possibly the first time in his life Jean-Luc was being disingenuous. Certainly he was telling the truth regarding Enterprise's mission, but he must surely know as well as she did that in law, murder was the only capital crime that had no statute of limitations. No matter how much time had elapsed since the event, if Malcolm Reed had been facing a charge of murder then he was still a wanted man, and there was no other legal recourse for a Starfleet captain than to bring him back to Earth to face justice.
There was no doubt that the captain would go to almost any lengths to rescue his captured crewman, if Hayes was indeed still alive and not torn to pieces as they had thought. But would he coldly and deliberately lie to this scared and protective innocent, perjuring himself in the process?
There was a moment of held breath. The narrowed grey eyes ripped Jean-Luc's soul apart, searching for falsehood.
"Brothers not die him," Son said at last. His speech was so mangled that one had to concentrate extremely hard to decipher it. "Brothers ... wnt ...want Son. Want ...I... me."
"They have taken Crewman Hayes as a hostage?"
This was too complicated. Son shook his head, frowning and confused. "Want I. Me. Not die me. Not die him."
"They understand we took you – so they've taken him to ensure your safety?"
"Not die him if not die me. Un-rstand. Yes. Un-rstand no-tail. Faa–" He shook his head again, angrily this time. "Far-ther un-rstand no-tail not-brothers."
"Your father organised this?" Will couldn't keep the incredulity out of his voice.
A third head-shake, with a lifted lip. "Brothers."
"You're telling us that the – the creatures who attacked my landing party did so deliberately – as part of a plan they themselves had invented, to ensure your safe return." Jean-Luc was more diplomatic than Will in trying to hide his disbelief, but he couldn't quite keep all of it out of his voice.
Son glared. "Brothers," he repeated fiercely. "Brothers – care brothers."
"Sir! If we scan the surface, we should be able to pick up Crewman Hayes' bio-signs. We can transport him out of danger!" said Worf.
The response to this was a torrent of snarling. For all that Son's grasp of English seemed to be fairly limited, particularly when it was spoken quickly, he had certainly understood that the Klingon was proposing the rescue of the hostage by some means that were probably (in his view) underhand. It was the worst demonstration yet of the reality of his having been reared – as it seemed – to regard creatures such as those Worf had described as his 'brothers'. He seemed not even to attempt to speak, but his face was a twisted mask of threat as the snarls burst from his throat.
Given his age and frailty, the degree of threat he might actually present (particularly to Worf, who in size alone would have made three of him) was negligible. As an indication of his lack of identity as a human, however, the effect was horrifying. Katherine wondered if she was the only one who had begun to question even the possibility of returning him to Earth and trying to rehabilitate him into humanity.
"No, wait!" ordered the captain. "I will take any action I deem necessary to safeguard my crewman. That does not in any way indicate that I mean you any harm. If your 'brothers' could be made to understand that, the situation for all of us would be considerably less dangerous!"
"Not die brothers! Not die far-ther!" screamed Son in a fury. His knuckles were white where they grasped the PADD, and it seemed all too likely that if it had been even a little less precious to him he would have used it as the only weapon he had.
"I do not intend to 'die' anyone!" Jean-Luc very rarely raised his voice. He very rarely needed to, but he could thunder with the best when the need was there. Even Worf blinked at the roar from his usually quietly-spoken commanding officer.
It was questionable whether it was the volume or the unmistakable note of authority that got through to their incensed guest. He shrank sideways a little, lifting his arm bent with the hand dropping downwards in an obvious intention-movement of rolling submissively. Above it his eyes were wide and wild with fear and anger and confusion.
"Captain. Please." Katherine dipped between him and the den, and laid a gentle hand on the bony, shaking shoulder of its occupant. "Son, trust us. We mean you no harm."
"No-tails harm," he moaned. "H'nt far-ther. Take him... take him 'way... die him..."
"Captain? The scan?" asked Will, already poised to act.
The struggle was clear on Jean-Luc's face for a moment, and then it cleared. Even before he nodded, the doctor knew what his decision would be. He did not want to alienate his unhappy guest, but his primary responsibility was undoubtedly to his crewman. Even if Hayes' life was not at immediate risk, he could not be declared safe by any means; giant wolves could not be thought trustworthy guards for him, even if they were indeed intelligent enough firstly to have come to the conclusion that the new arrivals had been responsible for Son's disappearance and secondly to have formed and carried out a plan to secure a hostage for his well-being.
"By all means, Number One. If he is alive, and it's at all possible to do so, bring him up. But take care you don't inadvertently bring up any of Son's 'brothers' with him."
"I'll try to avoid that, sir." With a smile of hope and relief, Riker got himself out of Sickbay at speed.
Son's look of despair was pitiable. There was little doubt that he had made the connection with the way he himself had been whisked away from the planet's surface, and suspected that Hayes was to be rescued by exactly the same method.
"Son." The captain looked back at him seriously. "I realise that trust must be very hard for you. But try to believe me. Your 'brothers' do not need a hostage to make me treat you well, and I have not the slightest intention of killing your father."
To that, there was no response. The old man retreated once again to the back of the den and took refuge in his PADD. A brush of the hand across his eyes might possibly have been because they found the bright lights of Sickbay uncomfortable, but he left it there for a moment before once more taking comfort in the only place where he could find it.