Chapter Three
*****
Malcolm approached the prone form of their attacker with his phase pistol
drawn. The stench that radiated off her body assailed his olfactory nerves and
he winced as he rolled her over. Her long hair was matted and dirt covered her
naked body. The urge to feel sorry for her was squashed as he remembered why he
stunned her -- her attack on his team.
With a minimal grunt he slung her lithe form over his shoulder and called out
the all clear as he made his way back to the others.
As he approached, he could hear Phlox fussing over Cutler's treatment
technique.
She replied by pushing him down and saying, "My mom was right. Doctors do make
the worst patients."
"There is no rule that states I have to be lying down for you to treat me,
Crewman." Seeing Malcolm approach the clearing with an unconscious form slung
over his shoulder, Phlox reached for his scanner. "Ah, this must be the
witch-ling the bounty hunters referred to in their logs. She is just the right
age; approximately twenty-one years old." He flinched as Cutler made the
preparations to remove the arrow from his leg.
"Well, what are we supposed to do with her? I assume we aren't just going to
leave her," questioned Travis, as he pointed to the wild girl.
"We'll take her back to Enterprise with us. She obviously won't survive the
coming winter," Phlox acknowledged.
"Excuse me, Doctor, but what do you suppose we do with her once we get her on
board? De-worm her? Dip her in a flea bath?" Malcolm could barely keep the
sarcasm out of his voice.
"Surely you're not suggesting we leave her here, Lieutenant? She has obviously
suffered grievously due to circumstances beyond her control. Are we going to
condemn her further?" Phlox pleaded.
"Am I supposed to overlook the arrow sticking out of your leg, Doctor? She
would be better off here, than confined in the brig. She became a hostile once
she fired on our party and would be incarcerated in the brig for the duration
of …" Malcolm resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the doctor, not quite
knowing if he should bother going in to Starfleet regulations.
"I appreciate your position, Lieutenant, but she won't survive the winter. I
hold no ill will against the … witch-ling. In her eyes, she was defending
herself. Fifteen years ago, Denobulan bounty hunters hunted her. For all she
knew I was another hunter and…" Phlox winced as Cutler as she put an analgesic
cream around the protruding wound.
"I understand your position, Doctor, but I cannot simply ignore the security
risk she would pose on board. I'm not suggesting we abandon her as we would
send down provisions and…" Malcolm grasped at a plan to leave the "threat"
behind knowing supplies would do no good if she didn't know how to use them.
Phlox remained silent waiting for the armory officer to see his failed logic.
Malcolm threw his hands up in surrender. "Very well, Doctor, but she will
remain in the brig at all times until we can get her transported back to Earth
for…rehabilitation," agreed Malcolm in an exasperated tone.
Phlox almost clapped with delight, but winced when he jolted his leg.
"Are you sure I can't give you anything for the pain, Doctor Phlox?" Cutler
asked with concern.
Phlox nodded, "No, no. Please prepare the witch-ling for the shuttle ride back
to Enterprise. A mild sedative should do the trick."
*****