Star Trek: The Original Series: The Shocks of Adversity (7 page)

McCoy then gingerly peeled away the emergency bandage from D’Abruzzo’s arm and examined
the wound. There was little more he could actually tell from a simple visual examination
that he hadn’t already determined from the tricorder scan. But it was too easy to
let the cold computerized readout of his devices act as a divider between him and
his patients. That direct physical connection, McCoy believed, was vital. He looked
at the burnt skin and
muscle, and did not like what he saw. “Dammit. Okay, let’s get him to surgery.” Gannon
unfolded the antigrav litter he had been carrying, and together with Chapel they lifted
D’Abruzzo up from the platform. “I only hope we can save his arm.”

“Is there a question whether you can?” Deeshal asked, as the medics headed to the
transporter room doors.

“Well, of course there is,” McCoy snapped at him. “You don’t just blast a hole in
a person’s body and expect it’s gonna heal on its own!” He knew Deeshal didn’t deserve
that level of vitriol from him, particularly given the fact that he’d probably saved
D’Abruzzo’s life. But by the same token, it was his people who had injured him in
the first place.

Deeshal stepped down from the transporter dais, and would have chased after McCoy
if Spock hadn’t reached out to restrain him. “But you are able to regenerate the tissue
that’s been destroyed, aren’t you?” the Goeg doctor shouted after McCoy.

McCoy stopped, stepping back just before the doors slid shut behind him. “Can
you
regenerate lost muscle tissue?” he asked, one eyebrow cocked at him.

“I’ve treated many similar injuries before,” Deeshal said.

McCoy considered him for an extra moment, then said, “Well, then, come on, Doctor.
Don’t just stand there and leave our patient waiting!”

Deeshal hesitated only a moment before snapping to and following after McCoy to sickbay.

*   *   *

Laspas stared at the space where his doctor had been standing a moment before, then
turned to Kirk with a look that was equal parts astonishment and suspicion. “And when
the energy is reconverted back to matter aboard your ship . . . it’s a perfect reconstruction
of their bodies?”

“Absolutely,” Kirk told him. “Right down to the last hair on his head.”

“That must serve as quite a tactical weapon,” the Goeg said. Suspicion now appeared
to overwhelm his astonishment.

“It does have its military applications,” Kirk allowed. “But Starfleet is primarily
a peaceful organization.”

“A very well armed peaceful organization,” Laspas noted.

“We do not kill or injure unnecessarily,” Kirk told him, “but unfortunately, we do
sometimes encounter things out there that require a stronger response.”

“Yes, we’ve often found the same thing,” Laspas said.

Kirk held his gaze steady. “You mean the Taarpi.”

“Yes, like the Taarpi, plus others in our history,” Laspas said, turning and looking
back toward his
squad. “But the Goeg have always found that the best way to defeat an adversary is
to turn them into an ally.” The soldiers had been given the order to stand down earlier,
and most had removed their helmets while taking advantage of the rest period. The
Domain team, Kirk saw, was a mixed group of at least five different alien species.

“The Federation is based on the same philosophy,” Kirk told Laspas. He understood
now why Laspas had been so surprised to hear about the Federation; the Goeg Domain
was apparently a like organization, a collection of many races from many worlds, united
in a common cause.

Laspas turned back to Kirk. “Then perhaps, despite the way this encounter began, we
could together turn it into something positive.”

A wide smile slowly stretched across Kirk’s face. “Nothing would please me more,”
he said, just as his communicator chirped for attention. “Excuse me,” he told Laspas
as he pulled the device out and answered, “Kirk here.”

“I have a preliminary ship’s status report, sir,”
Spock said without preamble.

“Yes, go ahead, Spock.”

“The ship has taken extensive damage and is currently incapable of warp speed,”
he said.
“Mister Scott suggests we will need to remain in orbit for at least twelve hours while
he and his team assess the full extent of the repair work necessary.”

Kirk silently cursed himself for not having been aboard during the assault on his
ship. “Acknowledged,” he answered Spock through his tightly clenched jaw. Intellectually,
of course, the captain knew there was likely little he could have done to prevent
the unconventional attack by the Taarpi, but still he found himself second-guessing
every choice he’d made that had led up to it.

“Also,”
Spock continued,
“Nurse Chapel has informed me that Lieutenant D’Abruzzo is now in surgery, and is
expected to recover.”

That news, at least, provided some small relief to his heavy conscience. “And his
arm? Is McCoy able to save it?”

“Doctor Deeshal is currently assisting Doctor McCoy in that very endeavor.”

Kirk turned to Laspas at Spock’s mention of his doctor, eyebrows raised. The other
ship commander was clearly pleased to hear of the cooperative effort between the two
physicians. “Good news, Mister Spock. Keep me updated. Kirk out. Well,” he then said
to Laspas as he folded his communicator closed, “it seems our ships’ doctors have
already turned this meeting into something positive.”

“Yes, and I’m heartened to know a truly tragic result to our misunderstanding has
been averted,” Laspas said, sounding genuinely relieved and grateful. “Cover your
ears.”

“What?” Kirk asked, just as a massive sonic boom rattled the ground and sent every
tree in the forest shaking wildly. Overhead, through the gaps in the canopy of leaves,
Kirk saw Laspas’s ship returning, making its way back to their landing site. The Domain
squadron began to pull their equipment together, replace their helmets, and prepare
to move out.

“Our patrol of this system is scheduled to continue for another day,” Laspas told
Kirk, after flashing some sort of hand signal to his men standing downslope. “I think
all the Taarpi
pyurbs
are gone now, but in case there are more still lying in wait in orbit, your ship
will have some cover while you complete your repairs. And I suspect Deeshal will want
to continue assisting your doctor.”

Laspas punctuated that last comment with a soft, weary-sounding sigh and a shake of
his thick mane, giving Kirk the impression that the Goeg physician was probably just
as bullheaded as his human counterpart. “His help is very much appreciated,” Kirk
said. He only hoped that McCoy wasn’t subjecting Deeshal to the full brunt of his
personality, and undoing all of the goodwill being generated here. “As a show of our
appreciation, I would like to invite you aboard my ship. In my culture, it is traditional
to share a meal in order to celebrate a new friendship.”

Laspas laughed. “We have that very same
tradition, although it is always the host who invites the guests.”

“If you insist,” Kirk said with a slight bow. The captain felt the kind of anticipation
and excitement that made first contacts such a rewarding part of a Starfleet officer’s
duties. “I should get back to my ship for now . . .”

“And I have my duties to attend to as well,” Laspas commiserated. “But I will have
preparations made. I look forward to receiving you, and learning more about your people
and your Federation.”

“No more so than I do learning about you and yours,” Kirk replied.

*   *   *

The first thing to strike Spock as he, Kirk, and McCoy beamed aboard the Goeg ship
was how cramped its interior was. The vessel itself was little larger than Starfleet’s
old
Daedalus
class, and the main entry airlock where they had been instructed to board stood in
marked contrast to the transporter room they had just left behind.

The second thing to strike him was the fact that the small space was made even smaller
by the number of armed security guards pointing their weapons at them.

“Oh, hell,” Spock heard McCoy, standing beside him, hiss under his breath, “I knew
this all was going too well.”

“Code zero! Zero!” Commander Laspas, followed by another, older-looking Goeg with
a gray-streaked mane of hair circling his head, pushed their way forward from behind
the guards. Laspas grabbed the arm of an amphibianoid guard, whose species Spock had
learned was called Abesians. “These are the humans, for Erhokor’s sake!” the Goeg
commander said as he forced the guard to lower his pistol.

Spock pointedly ignored the snicker from McCoy, as the rest of the guards lowered
their weapons and Laspas turned his attention to his guests. “Don’t be alarmed,” he
told them. “Your matter transporter triggered a defensive response. Welcome aboard,
James Kirk.”

“Thank you,” Kirk answered. His tone was even, but Spock could detect the minor degree
of adrenaline-stoked stress just underneath. “May I present my first officer, Commander
Spock, and my chief medical officer, Lieutenant Commander Leonard McCoy.”

“Leonard McCoy, yes,” Laspas said. “Deeshal spoke well of you.”

“Well, thank you,” McCoy answered. “He strikes me as a fine man and an excellent doctor
as well.”

Laspas then gestured to the older Goeg with him. “And I introduce my executive officer,
Satrav, and . . . Chief.”

Another alien stepped forward from behind the
guards, this one of yet another race they had not encountered on the planet. Her skin
was ashen gray in hue, with small black eyes, ears situated at the top of her skull,
and a cleft upper lip that revealed a pair of broad incisor teeth. “And this is my
head engineer, Senior Chief N’Mi.”

With the introductions disposed of, Laspas led the group out of the entry chamber
and into the narrow corridors of the ship. They had to walk in single file in order
to allow Domain crew members to pass in the opposite direction. Their footfalls on
the metallic deckplates echoed against the bare, featureless bulkheads. Spock was
again reminded of the
Daedalus
-class ship he had once toured at the Starfleet Museum, a relic of the Earth-Romulan
War built with little concern for aesthetics or amenities, but with the single purpose
of combat.

They followed their hosts down the equally narrow steps of a gangway and into a small
private dining hall, dominated by a metallic table loaded with platters of a variety
of unfamiliar foodstuffs. “Well, now, come!” Laspas said, smiling broadly and gesturing
to the empty chairs surrounding the table. “We discovered this cache of supplies the
Taarpi had left behind on the planet. What better way to celebrate our new allies
than in sharing the spoils of our shared battle?”

They all were seated, with Laspas at one end of the rectangular table, Kirk opposite
him, and Spock
and McCoy sitting side by side at the captain’s right, across from the other Domain
officers. The two Goeg immediately began grabbing at platters and loading their own
plates, with Chief N’Mi showing deference to them before doing the same. Kirk and
McCoy exchanged a look across the table, and then the captain shrugged and reached
out for a bowl of what appeared to be orange bean pods. “When in Rome . . .” McCoy
muttered as he also stretched his arm out for one of the platters.

“Pardon?” Laspas asked him through a mouthful of food.

“It’s an old Earth expression,” Kirk explained. “It means, basically, when you’re
in a strange land, you should follow the customs of the natives.”

“Oh,” said N’Mi, the first word she had uttered in their presence. “We’ve offended
you.” Spock noticed her attention focused on the empty plate before him, which he
had not yet made the effort to fill.

“Not at all,” Spock assured her, as he accepted the bowl Kirk now passed to him. “Merely
an observation of different social norms.”

“One of many, I’m sure,” Satrav said, just before sinking his teeth into what appeared
to be the roasted leg of a small game animal and ripping flesh from the bone.

“And yet, at the same time, so similar,” Laspas said, while sucking on a stripped
leg bone of his
own. “It’s simply remarkable: a whole new civilization, a whole other Domain on the
far side of the Keempo Expanse, run by a new race: humans!”

“Well, first, I need to make it clear that humans do not run the Federation,” Kirk
said, after quickly swallowing his food. “Ours is a democratic union made up of nearly
two hundred different representative species.”

Satrav smiled tightly. “And yet, you and your senior officers are all humans.”

McCoy nearly choked, holding back a laugh. “Sorry,” he said, covering his mouth.

“Is something wrong?” Laspas asked, concerned.

Rather than answering, McCoy turned to Spock expectantly. The first officer glared
a moment longer at the doctor, then said to Laspas and the others, “I must correct
your misperception that we three are all humans. I am of a different race, called
Vulcan.”

All three of the Domain officers looked stunned. “You are?” N’Mi asked.

“What? You didn’t notice those points on the sides of his head?” McCoy asked.

Laspas tilted his head as he considered Spock and his ears. “I’d assumed it was merely
a minor genetic variation.”

“And you are the officer second in command of your ship?” N’Mi asked.

“I am,” Spock told the chief, who appeared to be astonished by this revelation.

“It seems I’d misjudged you,” Laspas interjected. “Based on the encounter with your
landing party, and before understanding Mister Spock’s nature, I assumed your crew
was all human.”

“No,” Kirk said. “Granted, the majority is human, but in addition to Mister Spock,
we also have several other races represented: a Caitian, a Triexian, an Efrosian . . .”

“But they’re exceptions?” Satrav asked.

“Well . . . yes, unfortunately,” Kirk allowed. “Starfleet started out as a human organization,
before the Federation was formed just over a hundred years ago. Even though the space
fleets of all our member worlds were brought together under the Federation Starfleet
umbrella at that time, the process of integration has been a slow one.”