Star Trek - TOS 38 Idic Epidemic (30 page)

T’Pina did not react. Outwardly, it might appear to
be perfect Vulcan control, but in truth she was simply
dazed as the healer led her toward the laboratory, stopping twice to enter other rooms and administer the other doses of serum in the hypo to critical
patients.

One of them she recognized, although it took a few
moments, he was so changed: Beau Deaver, uncon
scious, dehydrated, several days’ growth of beard making him look all the worse. At first he looked
dead, the skin around his eyes wrinkled and shrunken
inward like that of a corpse.

But as had happened with her mother, this man’s
vital signs also responded, heart strengthening,
breathing regulating. Sorel did not wait for
him
to
wake up, but left a nurse with
him
and hurried T’Pina
to the laboratory.

There they drew more blood from her arms and
began to prepare more serum. “How much blood can
I give?” she asked.

“No more right now,” Dr. Corrigan told her, “but
this will make serum to save ten more people.”

“But—but there are hundreds of people very ill,”
she protested.

“We’re waiting to hear from the
Enterprise,”
said
Sorel.

He had hardly spoken before the communication came through—Dr. McCoy, face lit with a huge Human grin. “It worked! By God, you found it!
Spock’s coming out of it, feisty as ever. What
was
that
stuff?”

“A serum from T’Pina’s blood,” Sorel told him.
“She appeared to be immune, so we tested and found
a similar hemoglobin factor to the one in the Klingons’ blood. Here it is,” he added, pressing a
switch to play a computer analysis.

T’Pina watched the screen as the virus, which she
had seen schematized before, tried to attack some
thing that she assumed was her own blood structure. Instead of thriving, the virus collapsed and died.

“I
knew
I had seen something like that Klingon blood factor before,” said McCoy, “but I couldn’t
remember where.”

“I was remiss,” said Sorel. “I also recalled some
thing similar. I should have remembered—I have never seen that factor anywhere in Vulcan blood, except T’Pina’s.”

“There’s a good reason you haven’t,” said the
Enterprise
chief medical officer. “That’s not Vulcan
blood you’ve got there, Sorel. That’s Romulan.”

Chapter Thirty-two

For the next several hours, Sorel was too busy to
wonder how T’Pina could be Romulan. First priority
was to use her blood serum to save their most critical
patients. That was quick work, but preparing her to
give more blood was not.

Fortunately, Leonard McCoy had an answer: a Rigellian drug that would cause the girl’s body to produce blood cells at a highly accelerated rate.
Because the Starfleet surgeon had had experience with
it, they did not have to search the computer records
for it and then adapt it for Vulcan use.

There was a supply of the drug at the Nisus hospi
tal, for use by Rigellians, but Leonard beamed down
to help them adapt the drug for T’Pina.

“I had to use it on Spock once,” he explained. “He’s
not fully Vulcan, but the drug wasn’t affected by the
Human factors in his blood. Let’s hope that Romulan
factor doesn’t negate its effectiveness on T’Pina or
give her any serious side effects.”

“Leonard,” Sorel asked as they worked, “how did
you recognize that blood factor as Romulan?”

“It must have been about a year ago,” Leonard
replied, “the
Enterprise
had a run-in with a Romulan
vessel. No one in the Federation had ever seen Romulans before, so we wanted to find out all we
could. Despite their booby traps, we got one body on
board, along with what we could find of the others
after their ship was destroyed. I ran autopsies. Except
for that factor in their blood, they could have been
Vulcans.”

“That one factor is all that separates Vulcans from
Romulans?” Sorel mused.

“Seems to be—and that factor could be an artifi
cially created one. Spock thinks they’re an offshoot of
the Vulcans,” McCoy said. “Same people, different
philosophy—like the Followers of T’Vet, perhaps.”

Sorel nodded. “Please tell that to T’Pina. She is controlling her emotions outwardly. However, her shields are up so strongly that I cannot reach her
thoughts without a meld, and she will not permit that.
She insists she can meditate on her own, and that it is
more important that I spend my time with critical patients. Do you … ?”

“I understand,” the Human doctor replied. “I can’t
ever reach Spock’s thoughts, of course, but I can tell
when he’s overcontrolling. I’ll talk to T’Pina, but it’s her mother who can do her the most good. Uh
…
I
take it the girl is adopted? Or could her father have been… ?”

“No, Sevel could not have been Romulan,” Sorel told him, amused at the absurdity of the idea. “And
yes, T’Pina is adopted, her ancestry unknown.” He told Leonard everything he knew about T’Pina.

“So T’Pina was the only child not identified?”

“That is correct.”

“And you have never heard of any other Vulcan
with this blood factor?”

“When T’Pina became my patient, I searched all
records,” Sorel replied. “In fact, since I first examined
her as an infant, my medical computer has had a notation to call to my attention any instance of that
blood factor. It was originally intended to locate any
relatives she might have. There has never been a
reason to remove that notation. Leonard, your report should have triggered it.”

Leonard smiled. “You haven’t dealt much with
Starfleet, have you? Oh, they’ll get around to releasing
the information eventually, but they tend to classify
anything about Klingons or Romulans in case it might be strategic. But if the Romulans were planting cuck
oos in the Vulcan population, that blood factor would
have turned up through civilian channels and your
computer would have picked it up.”

“Planting cuckoos?” Sorel asked. Daniel would
have automatically interpreted, but he was making
rounds again.

“Birds on Earth that lay their eggs in other birds’
nests,” the Human explained. “But it doesn’t make
sense for intelligent beings. Blood factor be damned,
T’Pina
is
Vulcan—so what good would that do the
Romulans? Leaving an infant to be raised as one of
the enemy is not the same thing as planting adult
spies.”

“You are correct that T’Pina is Vulcan,” replied
Sorel. “And if there were more like her, or if there
were adult spies among us, I cannot believe that none
of them would ever have had a blood analysis. So
T’Pina’s origin remains a mystery.”

McCoy looked at him sharply, reading him as easily
as Daniel ever did. “And if there is anything a Vulcan
cannot stand, it’s a mystery. This one appears insolu
ble, though. Insufficient data.”

The adaptation of the drug for T’Pina was not
insoluble, however, and soon they went to look for the
young woman. Not surprisingly, they found her at her
mother’s bedside.

T’Kar was sleeping, her vital signs normal, her
color pale but otherwise natural.

“Come, T’Pina,” said Sorel. “We must administer
the drug.”

“Mother hasn’t awakened,” T’Pina protested. “I
have not been able to tell her—”

“—that you’re Romulan?” asked Leonard McCoy.
“T’Pina, surely you know it won’t make any differ
ence to her. Sorel tells me you’re adopted—so you
already know that what makes T’Kar and you mother
and daughter comes from ties far stronger than those of blood. Nothing will change just because you now
know what that mysterious factor in your blood
means.”

T’Pina nodded. “It would be illogical to assume it
makes a difference,” she said flatly.

“Never mind logic!” said the Human. “You may
not like the term ‘love’ to describe what you and your
mother feel, so how about ‘loyalty,’ or ‘family’? Those are revered Vulcan concepts.”

“Indeed,” T’Pina replied, but Sorel could see that
she had not yet truly assimilated the news of her
ancestry.

“T’Pina,” the healer said, “you must lie down now
so that we may administer the blood stimulant. Per
haps you will be able to meditate for a time.”

“For a time?” she asked.

“The side effects don’t start right away,” Leonard
explained. “After a few hours it produces a physical
weakness that affects the mind. You may feel dizzy,
and we will keep someone at your bedside because
you may try to act irrationally. That’s nothing to
worry about; the effects will go away as soon as the
drug is out of your system.”

“
Yes, Doctor,” T’Pina said with one last glance at
her mother. Then she squared her shoulders. “People are dying, and my blood can save them. I am ready.”

But just as they were about to leave the room,
the wall intercom gave a loud squawk, followed by a
voice announcing, “Paging T’Pina—all channels
emergency—T’Pina to any communicator.” Sorel
could hear the announcement reverberating from
other speakers down the corridor.

Leonard McCoy charged up to the wall unit and
pounded the switch with his fist. “T’Pina’s here with
us,” he growled. “What’s the damned emergency that
you have to disturb critical patients?”

It should not have been possible, in fact, for whoev
er was calling to override the safeguards and broad
cast into the patients’ rooms. Sorel had never seen it
happen in any hospital before.

“I must talk to T’Pina,” the voice insisted.

There was a blast of static, through which they
could hear James Kirk’s voice saying,
“…
cut off that—”

But he was the one cut off.

McCoy said,
“Enterprise?
What’s going on? Jim?”

“
We are controlling communications,” said the
original voice. “T’Pina, are you there?”

“It is Sendet,” T’Pina said, stepping to the inter
com. “I do not wish to speak with you, Sendet,” she
said calmly into the speaker.