CHAPTER 23
Malcolm didn't understand most of what the doctor told him. He never did have much of a grasp of med-tech mumbo-jumbo. What he did know was that, for the first time in days, there was hope that something could be done for Hoshi and the baby.
The medical personnel were studying Trip's blood samples, finding something useful in the antibodies he had developed against whatever was in the water on Lanari that had gotten into his blood through the cut on his forehead.
The same substance was in the chemical used to drug Hoshi as well as the water she had swallowed. The doctors had determined that was the cause of her condition. Her weakened state combined with her pregnancy hadn't allowed her body to develop its own antibodies, and the doctors were trying to synthesize enough of Trip's antibodies to use on her.
It was a slow process, however. Malcolm clung to his new hope, trying not to let it be chipped away as the hours wore on.
Trip had returned to the waiting area after his blood samples were drawn. "Feel like a damn pin cushion," he remarked, trying but failing to rub where the blood extractor had punctured his good arm. He couldn't move his arm in the cast far enough to reach the exact spot.
"Let me," Slanea said, moving to massage his arm.
Slanea had remained with Kleth and Malcolm while Trip was being poked and prodded. She hadn't talked much, remaining in the background as the doctor returned to explain in more detail what they were trying to do.
Malcolm, in a better frame of mind now that something was actually being done to help Hoshi, was able to pick up on the nuances of the three-way relationship between the two Klingons and Trip. He was surprised to see that Slanea's doting on Trip didn't ruffle Kleth.
"Thanks, Slanea," Trip said with a sigh as she rubbed his arm. "That feels better."
Slanea finished her ministrations and moved back to sit by Kleth. Malcolm was watching them curiously when he heard a low purring rumble from Slanea. She bared her teeth slightly at Kleth, and he saw the big Klingon give her an answering snarl.
"Hey, you two!" Trip suddenly said. "Knock it off. This is a hospital, for pete's sake."
At Malcolm's questioning look, Trip explained, "That's what they do right before they start makin' out."
Malcolm kept his jaw from dropping but his eyebrows shot up to his hairline. So that was the way Kleth's relationship with Slanea was going. He wondered how it had come about and what Trip thought about it. Slanea still seemed to be paying an inordinate amount of attention to the engineer. No, surely they all weren't...
He was trying to think of a way to tactfully bring up the subject when the door to Hoshi's room opened and the doctor stepped out.
Malcolm stood to meet the man, searching his face to see if it was good or bad news that he had for them. As the doctor began talking, he found it was both.
"The antibodies seem to be the key to driving the foreign substance out of her body," the doctor started. "But they are not working very efficiently."
Malcolm could sense the concern of the others behind him in their hushed attention. "What do you mean?" he asked.
"The antibodies supplied by Mr. Tucker are working, but not well," the doctor said. "Right now they are taking the place of the other stop-gap treatments we were using. Her condition isn't getting any worse, but it's not getting any better, either. This could go on indefinitely."
"Isn't there anything that can be done?" Malcolm asked.
The doctor paused, looking at the trio standing behind Malcolm. "There is one thing, but we'll need your help," he said after a moment.
"Anything! What do ya need?" Trip asked before Malcolm could speak.
"It would help if we had samples of Lanari blood. Then we could see how a native species from the environment where this substance comes from deals with it."
"P'kora," Malcolm said softly, turning to look at Kleth.
The big Klingon nodded immediately in understanding. "We will go to Lanari and get him."
"We'll take the Mornin' Star," Trip put in. "It's faster than the Falcon."
"Mr. Tucker," the doctor interjected. "Please, it would be best if you remained here. We may have more need of you for blood and tissue samples."
Trip's face fell but the engineer didn't argue.
"Contact Orwell," Malcolm told Trip. "Tell him what's going on, and that Kleth and Slanea will be beaming aboard."
"Who's gonna be in command?" Trip asked Malcolm uneasily as he glanced at the big Klingon, knowing Orwell's distrust of their friend.
Kleth answered for Malcolm. "Orwell will be in charge of the ship, but I will take care of getting P'kora to come."
With a sharp gesture to Slanea, Kleth strode to the door, not looking to see if she followed.
"Do not worry, Captain," she said to Malcolm. "We will bring him back."
"Alive, hopefully," Trip said with a trace of his usual humor.
Slanea gave him a glare. "Always with the teasing," she said before hurrying to catch up with Kleth.
As the door swished shut behind the Klingons, Malcolm said to the doctor, "I'd like to see Hoshi now."
The doctor nodded, ushering him to her room. Trip, left alone in the middle of the waiting area, sighed and went to find a comm unit he could use to contact Orwell.
"They've gone to get P'kora," Malcolm said.
He was sitting in a chair next to Hoshi's bed. There was no one in the room at the moment but Malcolm, Hoshi, and all the monitoring equipment.
Each day as he sat with her, he'd talk. Sometimes he would tell her about what was going on, sometimes he would reminisce about the experiences they'd shared, and sometimes he'd give voice to his hopes for their future.
"The doctor says Trip's antibodies are the best hope right now for helping you," he said to her as he gently stroked the hair above her forehead. "But it's not enough, so Kleth and Slanea are going to get P'kora. You've got to hang on until they figure out how to fight this and make you better. I don't know what I'll do if you..."
Malcolm's voice cracked brokenly as he stopped speaking. He didn't want his worry spilling over into these talks. He'd once heard that an unconscious person was aware, on some level, of what was going on around them, and his intention was to use his voice as a lifeline, not a harbinger of doom. He had to keep what he said to her hopeful and give her a reason to fight for her life.
"I'm finally getting used to the idea of being a father," he said to her. "You know, we have to come up with a name for the baby. We haven't discussed that yet. And do you want to find out ahead of time if it's a boy or a girl?"
Malcolm paused, picturing a little girl with long, raven locks like Hoshi's, but with his blue-grey irises set in almond-shaped eyes. Then he changed the image to a boy, and immediately conjured up a miniature version of himself with short, dark hair but with brown eyes.
They'd have to add a nursery on board the Morning Star, he realized. Most of the cargo runs he anticipated wouldn't be long ones, but he couldn't stand the thought of being away from Hoshi and their child for any length of time.
He began telling her how they could connect the cabin next to his quarters on the ship so they could have their child with them as they traveled between the stars.
Orwell and Kleth did an outstanding job picking up P'kora, probably setting a new speed record getting to Lanari and back. Malcolm was waiting at the transporter pad in the clinic for P'kora when he beamed down. He was surprised to see the Lanari's family had accompanied him.
"I will not be reinstated on the police force even though F'linu's body has been found," P'kora told Malcolm. "We have nothing to hold us on Lanari. We will see what happens here, together, as a family. Perhaps there are job opportunities here for me."
As P'kora was led away by a technician who would take his blood samples, Malcolm was momentarily confused. What was he to do with P'kora's family? But another medical staff member stepped forward to escort the Lanari's spouse and three children to living quarters adjacent to the clinic.
As he turned to go back to the waiting area, Malcolm was again struck by Hoshi's attention to detail when establishing her clinics. Quarters for family members of patients was not something he would have thought of.
The day dragged on as the technicians worked with P'kora's blood samples. By dinnertime, Malcolm was getting restless. Kleth, who had been with him the entire time after beaming down shortly after P'kora, urged him to return home and get something to eat.
Malcolm wasn't expecting the two people who were waiting for him and Kleth at the cottage.
"Trip! What are you doing?" Malcolm asked in surprise as he walked into his house to see the engineer, his arm in a sling, standing in the kitchen doorway.
"We were gettin' bored," Trip replied. He stepped aside to let Slanea carry a dish to the dining table. "I decided to broaden Slanea's education in the area of human food."
"Slanea?" Malcolm asked dubiously, taking in the apron and oven mitts she was wearing.
"Do not worry, Captain," she said with a fierce smile. "Trip has directed me. I have followed all his instructions. I do not think it will poison you."
Malcolm could smell a spicy aroma as she placed the platter on the table, and his stomach growled.
"Barbecued ribs," Trip told him proudly. "With my Uncle Sylvester's sauce."
"Where did you get all this food?" Malcolm asked as he sat down. He put a napkin on his lap and stared at the ribs, steaming corn on the cob, potato salad, and a big bowl of sliced watermelon. He hadn't realized he was hungry until the sight and smell of the feast had confronted him. It didn't matter that it was American Southern cuisine, of which he wasn't particularly fond. It was the first time in days that he had an appetite.
"We liberated it from on board the Mornin' Star," Trip replied. "Nobody up there knows how to do it justice anyway."
"What do you mean?" Malcolm asked, waiting for the others to seat themselves.
Slanea, however, had returned to the kitchen and was doing something. He heard her banging cabinet doors and muttering in Klingon.
"Well, it's not like we have a full-time cook on the Mornin' Star," Trip said. "You've got members of the crew rotatin' into that position, and not one of them cooks the way I like."
Slanea came back from the kitchen carrying a covered dish. She placed it next to Kleth before taking her seat. "That is for you," she said to Kleth, a gleam in her eye.
Kleth had been eyeing the human food with a distrustful gaze, Malcolm had noticed, and this new dish next to him was met with equal disdain. That is, until he took the lid off and a writhing mass of gagh was revealed.
"I procured that from the Falcon," Slanea told Kleth proudly from her seat next to him. "Perhaps you will share with me?"
Kleth tossed her an appreciative growl and dug into the gagh, but not before tipping a generous helping onto Slanea's plate.
Averting his gaze, Trip said, "You'll pardon me if I pass on that."
Malcolm waited until everyone else had served themselves before taking some ribs and potato salad for himself. As he cut the meat from one of the ribs, he was aware of Slanea watching him closely. He took a bite, chewed, and nodded his head in approval. "Very good," he murmured.
Slanea graced him with a wide smile and turned her attention to her own plate. She had taken only one bite of gagh, however, when she glanced at Trip and hurriedly put her fork down. Leaning over, she picked up his knife and fork and began cutting the meat off the ribs on his plate.
"Hey!" Trip protested. "You don't have to do that."
"Yes, I do," she insisted as she sawed away with little finesse but lots of elbow grease. "You cannot cut it with one arm in a sling."
"But barbecued ribs are supposed to be eaten with your fingers," he said indignantly.
She gave him a glare as she handed the fork back to him. "And you humans say Klingons have no table manners!"
Trip sighed and looked at Malcolm. "Wait 'til she sees what I do with the watermelon seeds."
Smiling, Malcolm said, "I think I'll have to ask you to take that outside if you're going to spit."
"Spit!" Slanea said in astonishment. "Humans actually spit out some of their food? On purpose?"
Malcolm grinned as the two engineers began to bicker good-naturedly. He hadn't felt this relaxed since he'd brought the Morning Star home the first time. It was good to have friends to be with in times like these.
He wondered how things were going at the clinic, but roughly pushed that thought aside. They would call if they had any news, either good or bad. The least he could do was enjoy this meal his friends had arranged for him, helping to take his mind off matters, if only for an hour or so.
He looked up from his plate to see Kleth taking a long swallow from his mug of blood wine. As the Klingon put down the mug, he caught Malcolm's glance as Trip and Slanea continued to trade verbal barbs.
"I stay out of their arguments," Kleth said in a confidential tone to Malcolm. "It is their way of showing each other affection."
At Malcolm's upraised eyebrows, the large Klingon added darkly, "As long as that is all it is."
Malcolm grabbed his glass of beer and raised it in a salute to Kleth before taking a swallow.
Slanea and Trip continued to pick on each other during the meal, first arguing about food and how to eat it, then moving on to engineering topics. By the time Trip was ready for watermelon, Slanea had expressed an interest in watching him spit seeds, and followed him out onto the front porch.
"They're just like children," Malcolm remarked to Kleth as the pair left the cottage. "They fight like brother and sister."
A look of sudden comprehension crossed Kleth's stern visage. "Yes, that is it! I could not define how they act toward each other. It is more than a working relationship, but they are definitely not mates. Brother and sister is an apt description," he said in satisfaction.
Malcolm peeked out between the curtains to see Trip demonstrating the finer points of spitting seeds, with Slanea studiously following his instructions as she emulated him. "Kleth, come here!" he said, waving the big Klingon over. "You've got to see this."
Kleth ambled over to the window. "He's teaching her how to spit?" he asked in disbelief as he looked out.
"It is the sort of thing a brother would show a younger sister how to do," Malcolm said, adding dryly, "At least, in Trip's part of Earth."
"Only among humans," Kleth said, his voice a mixture of disgust and wonder as he shook his head. "Brother and sister, indeed. If Slanea and I are to be life mates, I must consider adopting Trip into our house on an honorary basis. As her brother, it would be appropriate, since he has no Klingon house of his own. I know he is human, but still...spitting?"
Malcolm laughed, the first real laugh he'd had in days. Just as he was drawing a deep, relaxing breath, the comm unit chirped. The anxiety he'd pushed away during the meal came rushing back as he crossed the room to reach the unit.
Thumbing the button to activate the system, he said, "Captain Reed here."
"I have good news for you," came the voice of Hoshi's primary doctor. "We have found a way to reverse her condition."
Once again Malcolm was pacing the waiting area at the clinic. As usual, Kleth was with him, and Malcolm expected Trip and Slanea at any moment. They had offered to stay behind long enough to clean up after dinner.
"Why did they callme just to make me wait here?" Malcolm asked in frustration.
He didn't really expect an answer from Kleth, and he didn't get one.
The silence stretched on. Malcolm paced a few more times, his anxiety mounting with each step. He'd been enjoying himself at dinner, forgetting temporarily about Hoshi's circumstances. Now it all came back, along with a sense of guilt as punishment for distancing himself from her, if only for the time it took to have dinner.
"What's the holdup?" he wondered out loud. "The doctor told me to come back."
Kleth kept his own counsel, only his eyes moving as he watched Malcolm stalk back and forth. Humans said Klingons lacked patience, but that wasn't true. It only served to reinforce for Kleth that the stereotypes held by humans about Klingons, and vice versa, were often wrong.
Watching Ma'Com was like watching a caged targ, the pent-up energy bordering on a warp core breach. If worst came to worst, Kleth would offer himself as an outlet for his friend. One carefully worded sentence from him would be enough to set Malcolm off, releasing some of his frustration in an argument or, if Kleth was lucky, a physical fight.
Both men's musings were interrupted by the opening of the door to Hoshi's room. Malcolm immediately crossed the waiting area to meet the doctor who stood there.
"How is she?" Malcolm asked.
"Look for yourself, Captain Reed," the doctor said with a smile, holding the door open for him.
Several people were bustling about the room, checking monitors and other equipment, but Malcolm could see only Hoshi. She was pale against the bedding, but her eyes were open.
"Hoshi!" he cried, rushing to her side, slowing at the last instant to keep from jostling her too much as he took one of her hands in his.
A weak smile lit Hoshi's face. "Malcolm," she whispered hoarsely.
Tears threatened to spill from his eyes as he stood there, unable to say anything. Malcolm was aware of the other people in the room leaving, except for the doctor who came to stand by him.
"Your Lanari friend's blood provided us with the clue we needed to cleanse her system of the substance," the doctor reported. "Both she and the baby will be fine. She will be weak for several days, and after that will have to restrict her activities for some time. But we will be keeping a close eye on her and the baby at her weekly checkups."
At this news, tears did fall from Malcolm's eyes and he whispered a shaky "thank you" to the doctor.
"You can stay for a little while," the doctor said as he headed for the door to leave them alone. "But she and the baby need their rest. I will send a nurse shortly to tell you when you must leave."
The moment the doctor was out of the room, Malcolm leaned over and gently embraced Hoshi. She was so weak she could hardly return the gesture, but she managed to put one hand up to caress his face and wipe away his tears.
"It's OK, Malcolm," she reassured him. "Everything's going to be OK."