It was unusual for all of them to be anywhere at the same time. But this was an unusual occasion. Talks between the Federation, the Klingons, and the Romulans were being held on some neutral, uninhabited planet near the Romulan-Federation Neutral Zone. All three sides would have enough ships there to begin and end a minor holocaust.
Hikaru Sulu recalled his conversation with the captain of another Federation starship.
"Vell, the fate of the Universe rests once more in our hands," Pavel Chekov had quipped wryly, his accent adding a fluid undertone to his comment. The Mir had recently arrived to add her might to the Federation presence. The neutral planet was located in a sector regularly patrolled by Mir.
Sulu had laughed at his friend's pessimism. "Everyone is behaving. I don't think much is going to get done, but I also don't think anyone wants to start a war either."
Chekov's dubious look nearly made the older captain laugh. But Chekov took it very seriously. "For the Romulans, var between Klingons and Federation vould be most velcome. They could sit back and vatch us both deplete our strengths. They vouldn't find too much resistance vhen they decide to enter the contest. For the Klingons -- also useful. For much the same reasons. For us --" here he had sighed, "--I suppose there are some who vould like to see the Romulans and Klingons tear each other apart."
"So you think this whole thing is some kind of ruse --?"
"I think it is a vaste of time! Is anything going to change? Does anyone vant peace really?"
"Wow! You get more and more cynical every time I see you! Are you ok?"
"I am fine. I just vould like to see some progress for a change. This is not the Tventy-first century. Ve are supposed to be civilized!"
"Um... The whole idea of these talks is to deal with problems in a civilized manner." Sulu had not liked the depressing turn the conversation had started to take.
Chekov had looked at him as if he thought the Excelsior's captain had lost his mind. "You must be joking! You vill see tomorrow." Tomorrow all senior officers were to be planetside for the first day of the conference. No one liked it. It meant leaving uneasy and inexperienced juniors upstairs where some frightened ensign could start a war when he accidentally fires a photon torpedo down on the meeting site. Sometimes diplomats and the brass showed an amazing lack of common sense.
"Tomorrow everyone will be sooo polite," Sulu had grinned back.
Well, it was tomorrow and everyone was sooo polite. Sulu looked around the large hall trying to find Chekov among the milling masses of costumes and uniforms. This was supposed to be an informal reception before the precise choreography of the opening speeches. The Klingons, tall and massive in their ornate uniforms, stood in tight knots of aggressive confusion. The Romulans adopted a studied aura of aloof disdain and seemed far more at ease. The Federation contingent mostly looked miserable. At least the Starfleet people did. The diplomats looked anxious but not nervous. For his own part, Sulu felt relaxed and had a pleasant smile for anyone who looked his way. He didn't see Pavel anywhere and it was getting late. Pavel hated these things. Maybe he'd found a way to get out of it. Sulu smiled to himself at that thought.
A slight commotion brought his attention to the large double doors that led to the meeting hall. Federation President T'Lio, looking as unruffled as only a Vulcan could, had started toward this exit accompanied by an aide and Captain James Kirk.
Someone jostled Sulu's arm as he brushed past the starship captain. "Hey!" Sulu growled at the retreating back. Then he recognized the other man and called out, "Pavel--!" The other man didn't hear him; he simply continued on his way, squeezing unceremoniously past a group of tall, silent Romulans.
Chekov halted directly in front of T'Lio, his left hand reaching out -- a phaser shot struck the president! Sulu charged forward as did Kirk and several others. Too late. Chekov quickly turned the phaser on himself and fired before anyone reached him.
"Simply stated he has completely withdrawn into himself." Excelsior's CMO explained to all the dour looks crowding around the only occupied bed in her sickbay. "There is nothing I can do about it. I don't know why he's like this in the first place. I'm no psychologist -- I doubt they could tell you either."
"Can he at least hear us? Does he know we're here?" Sulu asked, looking unhappily down at the insensate prisoner.
"Maybe. I can't tell. Some of them do, some don't. I'll bet he doesn't want to."
"We have to interrogate him," T'Lio's security chief, an Andoran by the name of Valcalthian, insisted. "This man shot the President with a phaser set on 'kill.'"
"Set to kill, but it was capable only of medium stun." Captain Kirk reminded Valcalthian.
"Even more reason to find out what he was about. I can not believe he is a starship captain!"
A commotion at the door distracted them, a nurse's voice complaining "-- you should rest --" and T'Lio's calm insistence, "I am fully recovered, thank you," as she continued past the medical officer and into the ward where Pavel Chekov was both patient and prisoner. She stopped at the foot of the bed. Her dark blue eyes made an emotionless study of her assailant.
"Madam President --" Valcalthion began solicitously but her cold expression stopped him short. Her eyes flicked up to the diagnostic panel, then to Kirk, Sulu... "I understand you are acquainted with Captain Chekov."
"Yes," Kirk replied first. "He served with me on the Enterprise. He became a friend."
Sulu nodded agreement, "We've both known him a long time."
"Indeed."
It occurred to Sulu that 'a long time' was a decidedly relative phrase. What was long to him was probably only a short interval to a woman of 120 or so years.
"Why has he not recovered? Do Terrans require very much longer to recover from phaser stun than Vulcans?"
The CMO looked exasperated and repeated, "I don't know what's going on in his head, but he's a Starfleet officer who just shot the Federation president in front of a roomful of witnesses -- In vernacular terms, he's warped out. I don't know anything I can do about it!"
T'Lio turned an impassive stare on the volatile little physician and cocked an eyebrow at her. She turned to Kirk and Sulu directing her comments to them, "We don't have time to be gentle. Three rather powerful forces are waiting to determine their futures. Captain Chekov's actions make it apparent someone does not wish these talks to go forward. He is our only source of information at this time."
She moved around the side of the bed forcing Dr. Levesque to give up her place. The President startled them all by leaning forward to place her fingertips at precise locations on the prisoner's face. Her eyes closed, signaling her entering a meditative state. There hadn't been time to stop her and now no one dared interrupt the session. On the other hand, she wasn't the only one who wanted answers.
After a while Levesque tore her eyes from this motionless tableau to check the diagnostic panel above the bed. For what, she wasn't sure. It did not indicate any change was taking place in her patient. Valcalthian wore an expression of tense disapproval and seemed hard put not to begin pacing. Kirk and Sulu simply waited. They'd seen Spock mind meld enough times to be both certain she knew what she was doing and worried about the sanity of both participants.
T'Lio's vibrant scream slashed through the tense silence just before she was thrown backwards. Valcalthian caught her only because he happened to be in the way. "I am unhurt," T'Lio quickly assured them before anything got out of hand. Surprisingly, her voice was strong and firm.
Pavel Chekov heard a scream coming from very far away. It was not in his nature to ignore such a desperate plea. He rushed to answer the terrified summons...
Awareness calm like dawn; slowly, inexorably. He opened his eyes. And immediately regretted that action. It triggered a steady pounding inside his skull which was directly proportional to the dizzying rhythm of a spinning blue-grey ceiling. Not only that, but his whole body ached and his stomach lurched with motion sickness. Who had stunned him and why had they done so?
"Pavel," a familiar voice intoned uncertainly.
Chekov realized he'd shut his eyes again. Not that it had helped any. He forced them to open again and noticed several blurry faces floating above him. This was crazy! "Hikaru?" he asked with profound disbelief. One of the faces nodded; solidified. It was indeed his friend's. "Vhat is going on? Vhat are you doing here?" And, since it occurred to him he was somewhere he didn't recognize, "Vhere am I?"
"You're in sickbay on the Excelsior, Sulu answered the last and easiest question first.
Chekov tried to sit up and discovered the restraints that held him prisoner. "Vhat is dis?" he demanded, his accent thicker than ever.
"You-you shot President T'Lio and then yourself."
"Don't be ridiculous!" A nightmare? Except Pavel was sure he was awake.
"You had an unauthorized phaser. Pavel, why?" This time it was James Kirk's voice and face he recognized.
"Vhat are you talking about? Vhat--?"
"A whole roomful of people saw you!" Someone, a very blue someone whom he did not recognize, barked at him.
"How could I do that? I am here and President is --"
"Is also here," Kirk interjected.
Chekov frowned. His thoughts were muddled by some thick fuzziness. This wasn't making sense. The possibilities were not very promising. "Vhy is T'Lio on Koréss? Vhy are you?" he challenged.
"Koréss!" Sulu gasped, "We're nowhere near Koréss!"
"Ve vere assigned to transport personnel and supplies to the science outpost on Koréss --"
"Pavel--"
"Tell me now vhat is going on!" Chekov was almost shouting and he strained to break free of the straps that imprisoned him.
"Truly he doesn't remember," a silver haired Vulcan stated matter-of-factly.
The blue Andoran made a rude noise of disgust, "He is trying to play the fool. Thinks he'll get off with some sort of amnesia nonsense." He glared malevolently at the prisoner, "Who are you working for?!"
"I did not shoot anyone!"
"Pavel," Sulu again, "Even I saw you."
"No!" Pavel shot back.
"He is not lying. He does not remember the incident nor the time interval preceding it back to this mission to Koréss," the Vulcan offered firmly.
"Madam President! Vulcans, perhaps, never lie, but the rest of us do so and frequently!" The Andoran protested exasperatedly.
"I have performed the mind meld with him, Commander Valcalthian. He is not lying. But, Captain, you did shoot me."
"I remember no such thing." Chekov repeated his denial. But there was less vehemence in his declaration. He was beginning to wonder if it was possible. Could he really be missing a whole chunk of his life? Sulu claimed to have witnessed these actions! "Bozhe!" I do not remember! I have no reason--"
"If you don't remember how do you know you have no reason?!" Valcalthian countered adroitly.
Good point, Chekov conceded to himself. And he had no answer to it. "There has to be investigation. I vant to know vhy I tried to assassinate Pres-- the President. And vhy I failed." It apparently wasn't quick reflexes on anyone's part. He'd shot her and had enough time to shoot himself. According to these witnesses. God! Sulu was his friend! He wouldn't lie! "Do you have de veapon? If I vanted to murder someone vould not I have set my phaser to kill?"
"The phaser was set to kill, Pavel," Kirk told him. "For some reason it had been fixed so that no matter how high the setting, medium stun was the worst it would do."
Pavel blinked surprise at this information. Then he understood. The humorless laugh that rose out of his throat startled even himself. "I do not suppose this is all some hallucination? No. All I know is that Mir is in orbit about Koréss. Ve are preparing to depart tomorrow."
"What was your next assignment?" Kirk asked.
A sly grin twisted Chekov's features. "No. First you prove to me you are who you say you are."
"Pavel--"
"Prove it! Or find another trick. Am I stupid? I vake up vit' all of you vaiting. I am tied up, I an veak and sick; perhaps you have drugged me. You t'ink you catch me off guard. But I am not so stupid! Not nearly so naive as vhen I am young!" His Standard deteriorated as his fury increased. He caught himself and continued more surely, "No. Prove yourselves to me."
"Paranoid, aren't we?" The supposedly human woman who'd been standing quietly in the background clucked with wry amusement.
"He's playing games," the 'Andoran' snarled. "You think you are smart? You won't get away with this! Who are you working for?!"
"Pavel--"
That was the worst. Hearing voices that could have passed for Kirk's or Sulu's; seeing faces that could have been theirs. The Vulcan remained silent. The intended target coming to his defense. Vulcan indeed. Romulan more likely. Was she the architect of this farce? He focused his gaze on her. "Dis vill not vork. You are Romulan, not Vulcan!"
"Deluded! He's deluded!" the fake physician chortled.
"There are no Romulans near Koréss," the one that looked like Sulu argued in a perfect Sulu voice.
"Vhat have you done vit' my crew and ship?!"
"They're fine. We haven't done anything to them," the one imitating Kirk was almost convincing.
"Prove it."
"What will you accept?"
"Beam me back to my ship."
"I knew it!" the 'Andoran' sputtered. "This is ridiculous!"
Hikaru Sulu was on hand when Valcalthian and his guards returned with Chekov. A very subdued Chekov. The hurt in his eyes startled Sulu. Until he realized how unbearable it must be; to finally be forced to accept the fact that he'd tried to murder someone; to face people whose loyalty and trust and friendship have been yanked away; to be confronted by all this and not have any memory of the action that brought his life to this dreadful moment. For Sulu, it was more than frustrating to be unable to do anything to help his friend. He reached out with words he knew where hollow and useless. "I'm sorry Pavel," was all he had.
Chekov nodded absently. He had no desire to engage in conversation and refused to make eye contact. He wished Sulu to leave him alone and he didn't feel like arguing about it. He heard Valcalthian ask Sulu for maximum security for 'his' prisoner, that his own guards would augment Sulu's. He heard Sulu's incensed reply that his people knew their jobs... He wished this whole thing was over already. He went docily when a guard touched his arm and gestured.
Sulu watched them go. He turned to the Andoran more than a little irately. "What happened?"
"He is convinced," Valcalthian flicked his wrist in the Andoran gesture equivalent to a shrug. "And I am ready to admit that perhaps he truly does not recall the incident."
"Isn't that what T'Lio said?" Sulu shot back.
"Vulcans may be superbly evolved beings but they are not infallible."
"So now what?"
"We don't know that Captain Chekov was working alone. If he was, fine. The doctors can have him. If not, then T'Lio is still very much in danger." Valcalthian leaned toward the smaller human. "He's your friend. I've a proposal for him and I think he'd take it better from you than from me."
"What is it?"
"Chemical Assisted Hypnosis."
Dr. Levesque shook her head. "It's dangerous and the results are questionable at best."
"You just want to play at psychiatry!" Valcalthian accused her
Levesque shrugged broadly, unimpressed by his overacting. "I admit I've always been fascinated by normal behavior, but I assure you that is irrelevant. I simply will not condone CAH."
"I don't understand," Sulu interrupted before Valcalthian and his CMO managed to escalate their disagreement, "How is it dangerous?"
"The cause of Captain Chekov's amnesia is unknown--"
"Guilt!" Valcalthian snapped in exasperation.
Levesque shot him a dirty look and continued, "Without knowing the cause I can't guarantee the procedure won't do more harm than good. Assuming it does any good at all."
"Why wouldn't it?"
Levesque sighed. "It's not a case of administering a dose or two of some miracle drug and viola! Instant recall. A person is more than a chain of memories strung together. Some patients have been pushed over the edge."
"You are exaggerating -- anyway you'll have control --"
"No, I won't Commander Valcalthian! That's a problem too. If I really could have control the odds would be better. I'm not going to subject an otherwise healthy and sane individual to an unproven technique that could leave him insane or worse -- a vegetable!"
"Deborah, is there any other procedure that might help?"
"Well, he might regain his memories for his derision of her suggestion.
"One other choice, then," Levesque frowned at Sulu. "Telepathy."
"I don't like it," Valcalthion said for what Sulu easily guessed was not the first time.
T'Lio halted outside the entrance to security. With typical Vulcan patience she addressed her escort. "Commander, we have been over this. I will not subject Captain Chekov to the dangers of Chemical Assisted Hypnosis, nor will I ask another to subject herself to whatever emotions are tangled with the captain's hidden memories."
"You are my prime concern, T'Lio. If anything should happen--"
"Commander, no one expects you to take responsibility for the effects of my decisions." She looked pointedly away from him. She would give no more time to addressing his objections. "Captain Sulu, please lead on."
With a nod Sulu escorted the President, Valcalthian, and an unusually pensive Dr. Levesque to Chekov's cell.
They found him stretched out on the cell's bunk, wide awake and staring at the ceiling. "I do not remember anyt'ing," he said without bothering to look at them.
It was clear to Sulu he'd been trying to though. And equally clear his effort and his failure to do so were wearing hard. "Dr. Levesque had a suggestion that might help." Sulu offered carefully. "You can say 'no.'"
After a moment of uncharacteristic indecision Chekov pushed himself up and swung his legs over the side of the cot. "So? Vhat is it?"
"Mind meld," T'Lio answered.
"I see." Chekov was desperate to learn why he had committed a heinous action he could not recall but was doomed to pay for. He did not hesitate on this decision. "Do it."
"It may not be pleasant." T'Lio warned.
"It is not pleasant already," Chekov replied with a fatalistic shrug that was characteristic of him, but didn't make Sulu any happier, it was his opinion that his friend tended to give himself too readily to despondency. "Unpleasantness is not a deterrent." He seemed to look at Sulu more than anyone else when he said this.
Sulu signaled an unseen security guard. The force field dissolved with a reluctant hum. He wanted to reassure his friend as well as himself; but there were no reassurance available. He followed T'Lio and Levesque into the cell. His eyes briefly met Chekov's.
"Don't vorry," the Russian's wan smile was unconvincing.
Chekov and T'Lio stood toe to toe. She was nearly a head taller so had to look down while his face tilted upwards.
"It is difficult for you to trust me," she acknowledged in low tones.
"It doesn't matter," he whispered back.
Warm Vulcan fingers touched his face. That was all the sensation there was. For a moment. Then came the shock of her thoughts twining with his. She wanted him to relax, to void himself of emotion, of conscious thought. Of control. he recoiled at that, it went against his instincts and his training. But she held him! Do not think, she wanted. Without letting him go she relaxed. His emotion filled mind swept unwittingly into her emotionless one. Two minds blended, infused one with the other. It was nothing either could have been prepared for. I'm drowning! The panic swelled. And subsided. Pavel thought back; yesterday, waking up in Sulu's sickbay. Before...
On the bridge of the Mir. On the viewscreen is the cloud covered planet Koréss -- No! Koréss is two weeks ago, his first mission since...
Since?
He is standing beside a shuttle. Someone is telling him he has to take things easy. He nods politely only so they will get done and let him get back to the Mir. She has been repaired, thirteen crew replaced. She is waiting for him.
And before that...
He is on the bridge of the Mir, surrounded by panic. Surrounded by devastation. They are under attack by some invisible enemy. There are explosions--
He wakes in a bed, a nurse he doesn't know is standing over him. she smiles reassuringly and--
Nodding politely. The Mir is waiting.
Wait. Concentrate. Between the Koréss mission and now. concentrate.
Empty.
Concentrate
No time.
Concentrate.
Nothing special. Just the usual mundane daily -- Mama's birthday greeting came. Reminds me to look for the gift I picked up for her on some shore leave... Put it somewhere -- What is this?!
Kneeling on the floor, he is pawing through a lockbox he keeps in the back of his closet. It holds the treasures of his emotions, keepsakes that take him back -- But this egg-like artifact is nothing he recognizes. Curious, he turns it over and over and it dawns on him that it is an unfamiliar design for a very familiar weapon. A phaser. What is it doing here? How did it get here?
He gets out some tools he hasn't used in a long time... About an hour later he closes up the device and returns it to its hiding place. he is perspiring though the ambient temperature in his quarters is as comfortable as always. It has been difficult to concentrate, as if the thing wanted him to ignore or forget its presence. He closes the box. A strange feeling, as if something has dropped out of his thoughts, overwhelms him. He recalls, with some disorientation, that he was looking for something. He wonders why those old tools are out.
Captain Kirk stands beside her; and her aide Salin. Time to begin... Someone, a Starfleet Captain, walks toward her. She is struck by the almost Vulcan lack of expression on his round face. His left hand comes up. The beam of a phaser --
I do not remember! But... yes, he does. Because she does --
They said I shot myself after that.
I do not remember. Look down.
His left hand rises.
What is in it?
Small, round. Fits in my palm.
Open the hand.
The phaser I found.
Remember.
Left hand raises up, the beam of a phaser -- strikes the Federation President. He turns it on himself -- It is not me doing this! -- and fires again.
"Nyet!" T'Lio cried out startling Sulu and the other two observers.
Valcalthian started forward but intellect won out over instinct. He knew better than to interfere when she was so dangerously involved.
T'Lio's free hand snaked around behind Chekov's back. A moment later he had collapsed backwards and only her support kept him from sinking to the floor. The link remained unbroken.
Nodding politely. By the shuttle. To take me home, to Mir... "Glad to have you back, Pavel," his First Officer beams. "Good to be back." In his cabin. Unpack; disks clothing, egg-shaped phaser, shoes --
Where did it come from?
Nodding politely; shaking hands. Shuttle -- no. Earlier? Nurse Appelanti hands him his bag all packed. "You'll find everything in there." "Thank you." Their fingers brush accidentally; he feels momentarily light-headed...
Look at her.
Tall, handsome. A warm, reassuring smile. Dark green eyes where the smile doesn't reach...
Medical base Nurse Appelanti. First person he sees when he comes to. "My crew... my ship --" "They are well. The Mir is being repaired." "The crew... How many lost?" "Thirteen." "Injuries?" "Almost a hundred I think. But they've all been released."
The ship rocks with an explosion. All around him is death as the ship is torn apar--
What is this?
Emergency lights dim and go out just as another explosion buffets the ship. All the Universe is panicked noise and the thunder of a starship being bludgeoned to death. But there is no visible attacker. Fire! The weapons don't respond. No reason, they just don't -- Shields go down. An invitation to annihilation. Nothing he does is at all effective. As if the very soul of the starship Mir is at odds with her crew and her captain. What else can it be but sabotage...?!
His body tingles when some mysterious transporter beam--
In his mind's eye he sees his starship rent into dust by one final barrage. He should have been able to save them! He screams in anger and frustration, and in agony. No! No! No!
But the Mir was not destroyed. What is this? I remember, I remember.
God, god! It hurts! I let them die! Why are you doing this? I should have died with them. Answer me! My ship, my crew, my responsibility. Answer me -- what do you want?!
There is no answer. He is alone with images of dying crew. There is no resisting, nothing to resist. There is pain and he knows he is bleeding. Finally there is nothing. He is nothing, will be nothing. Nothing and alone. Then dead. Oh god it hurts!
Not dead. Not dark. The room is large, too large and strangely distorted. He is lying down. In bed. Nice...
The room's dimensions become less surreal but no smaller -- and his is the only bed. It is quiet. Except someone is moving about. Nurse. Starfleet nurse. "Nurse...?" his summons is much weaker than he expects but she hears and abandoning her pursuit comes over to him.
"Well, Captain. You're finally with us," her face seems unaccustomed to the smile she bestows on him.
"My crew... my ship...?" He fears to hear her response. Scenes of devastation replay themselves in his mind.
"They are well. The Mir is almost finished with its repairs."
But he has seen Death and must know her tally. "How many..." his voice breaks but he pursues this question no matter that it breaks his heart, "How many... died?"
"Thirteen." Her reply is firm. Certain. It is a number; data. Nothing more.
"Injuries?"
"Almost a hundred I think, but they've all been released." She fusses with the bedclothes for a moment. Then a hypo appears in her hand. "You need to rest Captain."
He feels the injection...
Doctors come and go. They poke and prod and shove ear-splitting, bothersome devices at him. They ask questions or they ignore him. At least one of them seems able to do both at once. They are busy and he is but a single patient. Only the psychologist recognizes him as a person. The psychologist is a young man with thin red hair and a cheery smile worthy of his friend Hikaru Sulu. He loves his work.
"Well Captain. --" (The psychologist always starts off their sessions this way) "-- Physically you're ready to return to the Mir
"Yes." But I know you don't like it.
"You do understand; you've suffered a traumatic experience that you don't remember and don't want to remember."
"I take your vord for it." Smile nicely.
"Um. Yes. Well... you may not get away so easily."
"I beg your pardon?"
"That is... you may experience certain -uh- difficulties. Nightmares."
"I have not so far."
"That is not to say you won't in the future. Look, if you do find yourself -uh- needing to discuss... anything, I am available."
"T'ank you. That is most kind." Stand. Shake hands...
Back in his room. Nurse Appelanti is waiting for him. "One last injection," she says, "Vitamin supplements." He endures this last vestige of ignominy. As usual the concoction makes him feel dizzy and light-headed. As usual (especially now!) he says nothing. "You'll find everything --"
I remember.
The phaser in the bag, along with things like toiletries, clothing...
I remember.
Remember more. Remember all of it. Remember! Please no -- Remember! God! No! The thunder of death and destruction. Over and over and over! Pain that slices with every motion, pain that explodes and pain that sits like a heavy weight. Pain that is physical and pain that is emotional. The whole of life is this. I let them die! I should have saved them! A whole ship is blown into dust and wasted energy. God! What do you want? He asks and asks! Never is he answered! Then he stops asking; stops wanting to know. The pain is gone. The vision leaves him unmoved. Now he is empty and nothing.
Now he is Death.
Remember. Deeper. See with you eyes, hear with your ears, and give me all that your mind has recorded of these events.
It is dark.
I see it. Make it light.
It never was.
What do you hear?
Noth-- voices.
Yes, I hear them. But I cannot make out the words.
Laughter. There are no words.
There are. Listen to them.
No. "You will take the phaser with you. Get as close to her as possible, then fire. repeat these instructions."
Sulu found himself holding his breath. His friend was still a rag doll in the woman's grasp, his longish, dark hair clinging like wet strings to his perspiration dampened face and neck. T'Lio was faring only slightly better. Her dark skin, normally only faintly coppery-green, had taken on a rather sickly pallor. Both of them breathed raggedly as if it was a difficult task.
"I've had enough of this!" Valcalthian growled.
"Oh no --" Levesque grabbed an arm as he started toward the pair. Captain Sulu held the other arm.
"She knows what she's doing," Sulu said only half believing his own words.
There is a man. He is more shadow than substance. Except he sometimes enters the light and it exposes his face. He has no expression besides satisfaction. He does not speak except to repeat the instructions. I do not know him. Once he laughs and says it is a great joke.
Remember him. With all your will, remember him.
Yes.
Finally a change came over T'Lio. Her whole body shuddered. She inhaled deeply and exhaled a long slow sigh. Her eyes blinked, focused. She swayed weakly. Sulu and Valcalthian rushed forward. T'Lio handed off Chekov to them, refusing any assistance for herself. Valcalthian, impatient to return to the President's side, unceremoniously dumped the unconscious human onto the bed. His concern was not invalid, T'Lio's face wore an uncharacteristically dazed expression.
Sulu gave her time to recover simply by letting himself watch Levesque examine his friend. The physician threw him a single glance that was completely uninformative. "I'll know more when he wakes up," she admitted when he didn't go away.
T'Lio was waiting for his attention having somehow put the Andoran at his ease. He turned back to her. "What did you learn?" he asked with rather less formality than was customary.
The Vulcan took no offense, "He was programmed. Not willingly."
"By whom?" Valcalthian asked.
"There are two pertinent individuals with whom he came into contact. One of these is a nurse at a medical starbase. The other is the one who tortured him."
Sulu's understandably concerned expression exploded into shock. "Torture--! We thought it was a trap for Jim Kirk!"
"I don't understand."
"Captain Kirk received a message giving the location where Captain Chekov was being held. When we got there we found the place booby trapped."
"Then you were meant to escape."
"It didn't seem so at the time!"
"Ah. Perhaps that is what he meant by 'a great joke.'"
"Who?" Sulu half glanced over to where Chekov was semiconscious and none too happily enduring Levesque's ministrations.
"Captain Chekov's torturer."
"So he can identify these people." Valcalthian insisted.
T'Lio gave her guard a long stern look. "I know them as well as he. I will describe them. Security or Intelligence should be able to identify them. No doubt both have made themselves difficult to locate."
"But not impossible." The Andoran seemed almost inspired by the prospect of searching out these characters.
"What about Chekov?" Sulu asked.
"He is innocent, of course. Both morally and legally. If he passes psychology examinations he will retain his position as captain of the Mir."
Part Three