M'Benga glanced at the chronometer. Eighty-four minutes had elapsed since Spock initiated the meld. Aside from a slight rise in pulse rate in the beginning, there had been no change in the readouts. The EEG panel stayed stubbornly flatline. McCoy's pulse remained elevated, although not dangerously so..
He had left the blinds open. Kirk and T'Phol sat in the sub room outside. Every few minutes, Kirk got up and paced, occasionally coming to the window and peering in, his expression anxious. T'Phol had not moved from her seat.
When it happened, it was almost anticlimactic. He happened to be looking at the EEG display when the indicator bars climbed, fluctuated for a few seconds, then settled into a normal pattern. He blinked, his own pulse accelerating as he jumped to his feet.
"Mister Spock?"
He saw Spock smile, then slowly remove his hands from McCoy's face. He opened his eyes. "Is he back?"
"His EEG readings havve returned to normal," M'Benga replied as an alarm started blaring. Spock rose from the chair and moved out of the way as M'Benga took his place at the head of the bed and silenced the alert.
"What's happening?" Kirk asked from the door.
"He's trying to breath on his own." M'Benga leaned close. "Doctor McCoy? Leonard? Wake up!"
McCoy's throat moved as he tried to swallow, and his hand moved weakly toward his face. M'Benga caught it and gently restrained his arm.
"Leonard, open your eyes. You have an endotrachial tube, Look at me and I'll extubate."
He saw McCoy's brow furrow with the effort, and then the glint of blue as he squinted into the light. M'Benga could not stop the grin that spread across his face. He turned the respirator off, grabbed the suction and a syringe, deflated the tube, and slid it from his throat. McCoy gagged a bit and coughed as M'Benga suctioned his airway.
"There you are, tube's out. You can talk now."
"Bones?" Kirk had moved to the other side of the bad. He took McCoy's hand, folding it into his own, leaning over the bed. "Bones?" McCoy turned his head, slowly opening his eyes.
"Jim." McCoy's lips moved, but no sound came out.
Kirk felt like jumping and shouting. He squeezed McCpy's hand a little tighter. "Don't try to talk, Bones. Just rest and get better. I'll just be a call away."
"I want to see Little Birdy," he whispered, his voice barely audible.
"We will be here a few days. I'll make sure you do."
McCoy nodded and closed his eyes.
Kirk watched his friend doze for a few minutes, then laid McCoy's hand on the cover. "I'll check on him later," he said to M'Benga. "Call me if there's any change." M'Benga nodded, his main attention on the scanner. He punched the intercom button.
"Nurse Chapel to ICU."
T'Phol was waiting just outside the door. Kirk paused.
"I'd like to take your report later, in the main briefing room. I'll send someone to show you the way. Let's say sixteen-hundred hours."
T'Phol nodded, but Kirk had continued on without waiting for a reply. She stepped inside the room, edging around the bed, being careful to stay out of M'Benga's way.
"Leonard?" She smoothed a strand of his hair back in place. McCoy did not react or open his eyes. She looked at M'Benga.
"Why don't you give us a while to get him squared away? He's had a rough time, not just the meld," he said. "Physically, mentally, and emotionally he's been through a lot, and he's exhausted. You can see him later." He turned his head. "You too, Spock. If I need you, I'll page you."
Chapel hurried into the room as they were leaving, M'Benga was already giving orders.
Spock left T'Phol with Teal in the treatment room. "I have items I must attend to. I shall assign you a room, Doctor Teal, near T'Phol in the guest quarters. I will send an escort shortly. It may be that your presence will be required on the planet surface, but I think not for today. There will be a preliminary briefing later."
"Spock, is Leonard going to recover?"
"It may take some time. There could be damage that is not readily apparent or is latent in nature. He does remember some things prior to the event, and was able to communicate with me during the meld. The outlook is at least hopeful."
He straightened his shoulders. "Wait here. I will send someone soon."
o
M'Benga pulled a chair to the head of McCoy's bed and sat with his PADD, going over the battery of test results. McCoy's brain was showing signs of trauma, both physical, from at least two hard impacts, and more troublesome, the discarnate, embodied by diffuse, minute, but persistant shifts in several areas, predominately in the Theta waves.
He called up everything he could find on Mind Sifter victims, a woefully small array of knowledge. One prominent paper was the study McCoy had done on Spock following the Organian encounter. M'Benga had read it several times, and discussed it with McCoy and Spock himself. Of the half dozen Human studies, all but one was post-mortem. Number six survived in a vegetative state for months.
M'Benga read until the words began to run together. Finally he laid the PADD aside and stretched, kneadingthe knots in his neck. He checked the biobed readings and laid his hand on McCoy's forehead for a moment. McCoy opened his eyes.
"Hi there," M'Benga said. He reached for the glass on the bedside tray and helped McCoy raise his head for a drink of water. He took a few sips, and laid back on the pillow.
"How are you feeling?"
"Hell was better. Less pain."
"Hell? I'll give you something for the pain."
"First give me the report."
"You have a concussion, a linear fracture of the left parietal, a proximal humeral fracture, a left kidney contusion, some moderate pulmonary edema, several cuts and abrasions and enough bruising that you're purple and green rather than pink and white. You have been under the regenerator for the fractures, and we'll do more now that you've stabilized."
McCoy nodded, closing his eyes. "What about my brain? Is it scrambled?"
M'Benga's silence made McCoy open his eyes again.
"Not scrambled, no," M'Benga finally said. "There are some faint anomalies, most are in the Theta wave. I was researching what we know about the Mind Sifter. It's not much."
McCoy mumbled something under his breath. M'Benga leaned closer.
"What did you say, Leonard?"
"There be dragons here."
"I don't understand."
McCoy took a breath. "Doctor Geoffrey M'Benga, I am reporting myself as unfit for duty, per Starfleet regulation one-zero-four, Section B."
M'Benga squeezed his shoulder. "Don't worry, Leonard. You'll be well soon and fit for duty again. I'm sure of it. "
McCoy closed his eyes, shutting out M'Benga's kind and hopeful face, and eventually drifted back into sleep.
o
T'Phol sat very straight and still in her chair, hands on her knees. Kirk sat across the table from her with Spock at the computer interface. She had expected to be asked about her part in the events planetside, particularly her solo excursion, but he had asked very little about anything other than McCoy's interaction with the birds. She was trying to be as truthful as she could while protecting McCoy's privacy, but she clearly sensed Kirk's growing frustration and suspicion that she was witholding information. They stared at each other across the table at an impasse.
Kirk flexed his shoulders, trying to relieve some of the tension that had gathered there. He sat back a little, hoping to put T'Phol at ease.
"Would you like something to drink?"
"No, thank you."
He poured a cup of coffee from the thermal carafe on the table, taking a sip before meeting her eyes again.
"I apologize if this meeting feels like an inquisition." His mouth quirked in a half smile. "I've been told I can be- overbearing- at times." He leaaned forward, folding his hands in front of him. "Miss Grayson, I need for you to understand, this is not simply a matter of what McCoy knew, and when he knew it. We are proceeding cold with a first contact situation, involving a new telepathic species. Apparently a powerful telepathic species. So the question is not only how they might fit into the Federation as friends or allies, or under our protective jurisdiction. We also must determine if it is safe for them to do so. Safe for the Birds. Safe for us.
"Now, McCoy evidently kept some things hidden concerning their telepathic ability and his communication with them. I'm trying to ascertain if that secretivness was due in any way to interference from Piasa or the Tribe."
"I understand the need to know, Captain. I cannot answer that with certainty. Doctor McCoy did not think he was being influenced or controlled. He stated as much to me."
"What did you think, Miss Grayson?You were the person most privy to his thoughts."
T'Phol stared at Kirk's hands, thinking back to the night before McCoy disappeared, when he had asked her could he be compromised without his knowledge. She had considered the possibility and found it plausable, even likely. Finally she looked up, meeting the Captain's hazel eyes.
"Sir, I am not knowledgeable enough to offer anything more than a personal opinion. Leonard did not believe he was under Piasa's influence in any way. He thought Piasa was protecting him. And perhaps he was, although I do not know what danger he was in. We had no foresight that he would be abducted.
"I believe Piasa, and later Little Birdy, did have some access to his mind. I am not a strong telepath, but there is little doubt the birds are. Could they influence or take control of a person's mind, inadvertently, or by design? I do not know. But I suspect it is possible. Was Doctor McCoy affected?" T'Phol paused before she could force the words from her mouth. "I believe he was."
Kirk nodded. "Thank you, Miss Grayson. I appreciate your candor. I will need a written report from you later. You will have a few days to prepare. We expect to remain here at Aminta at least two more days, possibly until our relief ship arrives." Kirk punched the intercom button, calling for an escort back to her cabin. Spock, who had remained quiet during the interview, stood as the guard entered.
"If duty permits, I shall see you later this evening."
T'Phol nodded, following the guard from the room, the taste of disloyalty dry and sour on her tongue.
