The Lost Era: Well of Souls: Star Trek (20 page)

“Damn
you!” Bat-Levi clawed her way to a computer com. She punched the audio to life, and the computer, silent for so long, urped, “...
ull breach imminent in twenty-five-point-nine seconds. Recommend immediate emergency evacua
. ...”

“Computer!” Bat-Levi shouted. “Magnetic seal to vacuum pod, emergency override!”

“Emergency override command acknowledged. Magnetic hatch disengaged.”

At her feet, the hatch began to dilate. Bat-Levi jumped down into the airlock, her fingers flying over the controls. As she jammed her helmet over her head and toggled the seals shut, she heard two things. One was that maddeningly calm voice of the computer telling her that the explosive bolts to the vacuum pod were engaged, and they had three seconds to detonation.

The other was her brother’s anguished scream: “No, Darya,
no!”

And then the bolts ignited. And blew.

Bat-Levi was
aware
of the light more than she actually
saw
it: a white-hot flare that seared her retinas. Then she was aware of her body impacting something solid, and her brain exploded with pain. There was a sensation of being flung back and of something—the ship, or maybe it was the pod-blowing free, disintegrating into a halo of debris. Bat-Levi was standing, and then, suddenly, she wasn’t standing on anything anymore, because the airlock was gone and she was standing on empty space and the stars spread like diamonds beneath her feet and then the strange shape of Starbase 32, upended like a child’s top, wheeled in her vision.

And then she saw nothing. Felt nothing. Because there was nothing left.

“You understand now, right?” Bat-Levi’s voice was thick. Her streaming eyes focused on Tyvan. “You understand why I’m ... why things are the way they are.”

Tyvan debated then said, “I understand that what happened to you was a horrible thing. And I understand how you feel that you’re to blame.”

“I should have double-checked that grid. But I wasn’t on task. I just wanted to get the hell out of there, get on with my,” she gave a bleak laugh, “my damned love life.”

“Right. But Joshua was in a hurry, too. But,” he said, cutting her off when he saw her open her mouth, “but you’ve already made up your mind about that. We could argue all day, and I’ll bet other doctors have done just that. So I don’t think it’s worth rehashing. I don’t see the point in trying to talk you out of guilt you so clearly want to hang onto. But I’ll tell you what I’m more interested in.”

Bat-Levi’s lips had thinned, and Tyvan knew this was not how she expected things to go. She’d told her story, and it was horrific, but he also knew that she’d told it before. The words had a rehearsed quality; the story was a neat, tidy package, and Joshua’s death would be the first thing that any psychiatrist, him included, would’ve latched onto—because it was so
obvious.

“And
what’s that?” she asked, her voice flat.

“Did you keep your date with Devlin Connolly?”

Bat-Levi blinked. “What? That’s what you want to know?” An undercurrent of fury churned in her voice.
“That?”

“Yes.”

“What kind of question is that?”

“I thought it was a good one. After all, Devlin Connolly was your lover ...”

“Was,” she said,
“was.”

“So it stands to reason you’d have contacted him again.”

“Unbelievable.” Bat-Levi grasped the arms of her chair, and Tyvan saw the fabric pucker as her fingers dug in. “Un. Be. Lievable. Doctor, take a good, hard look. I wasn’t exactly in any shape to go to Pacifica.”

Tyvan’s eyes traveled over her body, her disfigured features as if seeing them for the first time. “Well, no, but we’ve already established that this is the body you wanted. I don’t see what one has to do with the other. So, did you send for him? I’m sure Devlin ...”

“No,” she interrupted. All the color had bled from her face now—Borg, thought Tyvan,
just like the Borg—
and this made her scar stand out so pink and taut, it rippled like a worm. “I didn’t send for him.”

“Ever?”

“Ever.” Her jaw thrust out, as if daring him to take a swing.
“Ever.”

“Did he call? Did he want to see you?”

For the first time, he saw uncertainty. Then her eyes grew hooded. “Yes, he called—about a week after. He wanted to know why I wouldn’t let them evacuate me to Starfleet Medical.”

“It’s a good question. Did you tell him why?”

She seemed to find something fascinating at the tips of her boots. “We didn’t speak. There was nothing to say.”

“Nothing to say? Darya, I thought you said that you and Devlin ...”

Bat-Levi threw him a sharp, defiant look. “That was
before
.”

“But how did the accident change anything? I would’ve thought you’d need ...
want
Devlin more than ever. He called, so he was willing.”

Tyvan saw that Bat-Levi’s index finger had stolen to the cuticle of her right thumb. He watched as her nail tore at the skin. “I didn’t need his help.”

“Why not?”

She shook her head with a short, irritable gesture. A bubble of red blood welled up along her right thumbnail, but if it hurt, she gave no indication. “Because I didn’t want him to see me like this. Why would any man want,” she held up her artificial hand, “this?”

“You don’t seem to have had a lot of faith in Devlin.”

Bat-Levi exhaled something like a laugh. “It doesn’t take faith to know what’s repulsive.”

“Sure. Appearance is the first thing by which anyone is judged. But you’d think that a man who’d met all kinds of aliens—and some of them pretty ugly by human standards—would look a little deeper into the woman he loved.”

“Well, I didn’t bother to find out.”

“I guess I’m interested in that.”

“And I guess I’m not. Look at me, Doctor. What man would want this, what man could love someone who looks like this?”

“I don’t know, Darya,” said Tyvan gently. “I don’t know why you never bothered to find out. Then again, I don’t know why you wanted to hurt Devlin Connolly either.”

“
Hurt
him ...”

“But that happens. We all lash out at the people we care about, and you’re furious with yourself, sure. And you’re furious with Joshua for going ahead with something you knew he shouldn’t have. Except you can’t get at him. You can’t tell Joshua how angry you are, how much he’s made everyone suffer. So you turn that anger on yourself, and you throw love back into the faces of people who care about you.”

“Care about me,” Bat-Levi bristled. There was blood all over her thumbnail now. “
Care
about me? There’s no one who cares about
me.
I’m a cog in a machine. No, no, I’m a
machine
within a machine. I do my job; I’m alive because everyone says I ought to be grateful
to
be. But they don’t know what it’s like.”

“Yes, you’ve made sure of that. I’ll bet it takes a lot of energy, keeping that armor in place.”

Then, just as Bat-Levi opened her mouth to reply, Tyvan’s office door chimed. Tyvan felt a quick flash of irritation.
Why
was someone bothering him? He was with a
patient;
he shouldn’t be interrupted. Then he glanced at his chronometer and knew exactly why. Halak’s inquiry had convened twenty minutes ago.

Bat-Levi was already pushing her way to her feet, the servos in her knees squealing a protest. “I don’t know why I keep doing this to myself. I’m gone. I came a day early, we talked about some things, and now I’m gone. There’s no regulation that says I have to sit here and let you goad me.”

The chime sounded again. “Doctor?” A man’s voice, followed by a knock. “Dr. Tyvan?”

“Just a moment,” Tyvan called, exasperated.
Never rains but it pours.
“Darya, I think that it’s valuable for us to look at the
way
you’re thinking and ...”

“No.” Bat-Levi cut him off. “No. I
don’t
think it’s valuable. I stayed here way too long. I don’t know why I listen to you, but I’m not interested in finding out why. I don’t have a choice about seeing you. My orders are to report. Well, I reported—a day early, but I did it, and that’s session number four, Doc. One more, and then you get to write your precious report. But for now,” she made an offhand gesture to the door, “it sounds like you don’t have a choice either.”

Before he could say anything more, she wheeled about, with an alacrity that surprised him. The door hissed to one side and Bat-Levi barreled through.

“Whoa!” said Ensign Richard Castillo, jumping to one side. He put his hands up, palms out “Sorry, Ma’am. I ...”

“It’s fine, Ensign,” said Bat-Levi. She pushed past, heading down the corridor. “I was just leaving.”

“Sure,” said Castillo, to her rapidly retreating back. “Ma’am.”

Bat-Levi didn’t reply. Tyvan heard the thud of her prosthetic legs fade as she rounded the bend of the corridor, and disappeared.

Castillo turned his puzzled gaze to Tyvan. “Sorry, sir. Honestly, I didn’t know. But you didn’t answer your hails, and Captain Garrett called the bridge and she’s pretty steamed ...”

“It’s fine, Ensign,” said Tyvan, echoing Bat-Levi, but more kindly. “Please let the captain know I’m on my way.”

“Well,” said Castillo, looking apologetic, “that’s just it. My orders are to escort you down, sir. Ah, see, the captain ...”

“I understand,” said Tyvan. “So, the captain’s hot?”

“Uh.” Castillo looked startled, and, too late, Tyvan considered that “hot” might have different connotations to a young man. “Well, yessir, you could say that.” A quick smile that flitted on and off, like a light. Castillo had unusually blue eyes set off beneath a full head of light brown curls. If not for an angular jaw, he would have looked almost cherubic.

“Scorching?” asked Tyvan, annoyed that Garrett thought he needed a babysitter. On the other hand, he hadn’t given her much choice. She’d probably give him a good dressing-down in private. “Or just steamed?”

“Think supernova,” said Castillo. He hesitated, and Tyvan saw a twinkle of mischief in the ensign’s face. “I think Lieutenant Bulast said the channel melted. Sir.”

“Well, that sounds unpleasant.”

“Judging by Lieutenant Bulast’s face, I think so.” Castillo seemed to want to say something more.

“Yes, Ensign? Something else on your mind?”

“Yes, sir.” Castillo squared his shoulders. “Two things, actually.”

Tyvan folded his arms. “Fire away. We psychiatrists don’t bite, and if Captain Garrett’s
that
angry, a minute more won’t make any difference.”

“Well, uh, I don’t know you very well, sir, you just having come aboard and all and ...”

“You have a point, Ensign?”

Castillo straightened a bit, as if Tyvan had chastised him for slouching. “Yessir. Look, you’re not an Academy grad. I understand that, and I’ve heard that, uh, having people ... doctors who are civilians come in, well, I know that civilians do things differently. I know that, you know, medicine isn’t the military.”

“It’s clear you haven’t spent much time with surgeons,” said Tyvan, with a wry smile. “Or some hardcore nurses. You object to my being late, Ensign?”

“No, sir. That’s for you and the captain to square. It’s just that, you know, the captain, she’s steamed. But,
because
of you, Lieutenant Bulast’s gotten an earful, and that’s not right.”

Now
this
was a surprise.
Not as eager to please as he looks, taking on a superior officer like that.
“You’ve got a good point. Tell you what: I’ll talk to Captain Garrett, let her know it was my fault, all right?”
Just as soon as she’s done chewing me out.

Castillo’s head moved in a short nod. “Thank you, sir. I was kind of hoping you might do that. Lieutenant Bulast ... well, he’s feeling kind of low anyway.”

“Why is that?”

The young ensign moved his shoulders in a negligent shrug. “Could be because of Lieutenant Batra.”

Tyvan’s eyebrows arched. “They were that close?”

“They spent time together and ...” Castillo fidgeted, looked away.

“I see,” said Tyvan, though he really didn’t. His thoughts were already wandering ahead to the inquiry, and Garrett. Garrett would really let him have it afterward, and an angry Garrett was trouble he didn’t need. He didn’t have to be a psychiatrist or a Listener to know that she wasn’t exactly thrilled with his being posted aboard the
Enterprise.

Tyvan made a move to gather his materials when he saw that Castillo was still fidgeting. “Something else, Ensign?”

“Uh,” Castillo took a deep breath, “yes. I was wondering. Could I ... could we ...”

Tyvan decided that letting Castillo stew wouldn’t help. “You want to schedule some time, Ensign?”

“Yes, sir.” Castillo looked relieved, though his neck was mottled with red blotches.

More surprises. “Certainly. Now’s not a good time, though. How about we schedule something as soon as I’m done? All right?”

“Yeah, of course, you’re right. Sorry,” said Castillo, and Tyvan was relieved that Castillo had dropped the “sir.” Rank always made him uncomfortable. “We should go.”

“Right.” Medical boards and inquiries—Tyvan felt a quick spark of disgust—he understood why the military had them, but boarding people out of the military because they might have certain physical or mental problems smacked too much of the twenty-first century, as if medicine hadn’t progressed in three centuries and most illnesses weren’t remediable by accommodation, medication, or intervention.

“Well, let’s get going, Ensign,” said Tyvan, with more enthusiasm than he felt. “That way, you won’t get blistered by the captain, either.”

Castillo bobbed his head then stepped out of the way, allowing Tyvan to go first. In the turbolift, Castillo stood behind and slightly off to the left, his hands clasped behind his back. Neither spoke. Instead they stood, staring at a strip of metal above the turbolift doors.

In the silence, broken only by the whirr of the turbolift, Tyvan’s thoughts drifted to Bat-Levi. He’d taken a risk, again. But it was either break through her armor, or sit back and take the path of least resistance and do nothing.

The turbolift dinged, and the computer announced their deck. The doors parted.

But Bat-Levi was right about one thing, thought Tyvan as he walked the corridor to the conference room. She didn’t need to do anything but report. Well, he understood her reactions. Patients were so resistant to change. But change was necessary for a patient to break out of old self-destructive patterns, and that was his mission: to break down resistance.

Resistance
—Tyvan heard the mechanical voices of thousands of drones in his head, a single voice that was many, and one he would never forget—
is futile.