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Chapter Two

Leonard McCoy had joined Starfleet to get away from his ex-wife, and the Academy taught him far more than he imagined it would. However, nothing at the Academy prepared him for the sight that met his eyes in the hold of the Russian ship. A large rectangular metal box stood upright. A pale, bluish light coming from a window near the top of the door on the front and the humming issuing from the device indicated that the machine was miraculously still running.

McCoy inched closer and nearly dropped the phaser he carried. His heart clenched he gazed through the box's window at the frozen face of a young woman.

"She must be the life sign that Commander Spock picked up," Brighton murmured.

"I'd say so," McCoy absently answered, fumbling for his communicator. "Jim, we found the source of the life sign. It appears to be some kind of cryo-chamber. A really old one."

"There's someone in there?"

"Yes, Jim, so for God's sake, please beam me and this thing up! There's no way of knowing how long this machine will keep running."

"Of course, Bones. I'd like a report as soon as possible."

"You got it, Jim," McCoy answered impatiently. A hundred thoughts flew around his mind. Why was this girl in the cryo-chamber? Was it a medical reason? Did she have a condition that could not be healed in 2073? How long had she been frozen? Since the shipment port, or longer?" The big question plaguing his mind was whether or not she would survive the thawing process.

Meanwhile, Spock and Ensign Henderson found a working computer console and began to search the memory banks for logs and any other information that could tell them what the ship's mission was. When they completed downloading all of the data they could find, they found Ensign Brighton still in the hold, examining crates and equipment. He pointed to one piece that faintly resembled a chair and, for some reason, had a sinister aura about it.

"What do you think it's for?" he asked quietly.

"It appears to be scientific equipment," Spock answered calmly. "Perhaps a medical unit of some kind."

"I don't like the look of it..." Brighton muttered. "I'd take Dr. McCoy's whole arsenal of hyposprays over that thing."

Spock simply raised an eyebrow at the ensign before hailing the transporter room. "We have completed our search of the vessel. Three to beam up, Mr. Scott."

Three hours later, Kirk welcomed a rather haggard looking McCoy to the bridge.

"How is the new patient, Bones?" he asked, voicing the question weighing on the minds of the bridge crew.

"She's doing just fine for now, though the next few hours will be critical," McCoy sighed, leaning heavily on the railing behind the captain's chair. "We are slowly thawing her to minimize damage to her cells."

"I sense something else is bothering you, then," Kirk prompted.

"I've begun to read the files from the ship; Spock sent me the ones that seem to pertain to the girl."

"And?"

"She's nineteen, and they only refer to her as 'Subject 23'."

"Was there any indication as to why she was there?" Spock asked.

McCoy turned tired but blazing eyes on the Vulcan. "Yeah, there was. Their way of referring to her says it all. She's the experiment they were conducting!" He turned to his captain. "They were experimenting on her, Jim! Numerous serums and formula injections, various forms of electroshock treatments...the list goes on..." The doctor ran a hand agitated through his hair and began pacing. "It's like they were trying to resurrect the dang Spanish Inquisition..."

The bridge was completely still and quiet, each person lost in the horror of what had happened to the girl in Sickbay. It was Pavel Chekov who finally broke the silence.

"Vot can ve do to help her?"

"Unfortunately, you might want to steer clear of her for a while," McCoy answered. "No one goes through what she did without scars, and she will probably have an inherent distrust of Russians for a long time, if not for the rest of her life.

The boy's hopeful countenance fell. "But I vant to help her. She ees not zat much older zen me. Vouldn't somevon her age be good for her?"

"Normally, I would say yes," McCoy said. "But it looks like Russians did this to her. She's probably going to think you are one of them."

"But I vould ne-wer hurt her!"

"We know that, Pavel," Sulu soothed the teen with a hand on his shoulder. "But her mind is going to messed up and confused for a while. She's going to be in a survival mode after waking up in a stranger place, and she's going to be relying on her instincts. One of those right now is probably 'Russians are bad'."

Pavel slouched down in defeat. "Wery vell," he sighed. "But someday, I vill change her mind about Russians."

They all smiled at his firm declaration. "I'm sure you will," Uhura said. "I'm sure you will."

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