Star Trek: That Which Divides (10 page)

As for Boma and his surviving companions, they too had been brought to the colony’s small hospital, where physicians had continued to oversee the “alien” charges in their midst. Because Federation first-contact teams had been operating on Dolysia for more than a year, language had
not presented a barrier during any of Boma’s interactions with their hosts. Boma considered that nothing less than a blessing, considering that even if he had not been impaired by injury, the odds of finding a universal translator in the wreckage of the
Huang Zhong
were probably worse than finding a snowman on Vulcan.

“We have already learned so much from one another,” Shin said, “and in such a short time. Perhaps there will be time for us to continue our dialogue once my replacement arrives and I return to Dolysia.”

Boma replied, “Maybe, though I expect I’ll be heading back to one of our starbases in pretty short order.” As he spoke, something in the back of his brain clicked, and he realized that Shin’s statement might have carried an additional meaning. Was she suggesting they meet in a more . . . social situation?

You’re out of practice, Sam. You’re missing the signals.

Shaking his head at the teasing thought, Boma looked up to regard the late morning sky, which carried something of a lavender tint, the coloring an effect of sunlight from the Kondaii star refracting through the energy field surrounding Gralafi. The light effect played off the clusters of two-and three-story structures—most of which were fabricated from unpainted metal plating and support struts—that characterized the rather sparse, utilitarian-looking Havreltipa town center. The effect seemed to reinforce the sensation Boma felt: that he was not standing on an actual planet, but rather an artificial habitat such as those found on larger starbases and ground-based stations constructed on moons or asteroids that did not possess atmospheres.

Before Boma could think of anything to say to Shin
that would—he hoped—not increase the sudden feeling of awkwardness now gripping him, the sound of approaching footsteps made him turn to see Tranketh Nole su Dronnu walking toward them. Behind him, keeping what Boma guessed to be what someone had decided was a discrete distance, were a group of Dolysians. From the looks of things, the small crowd—miners dressed in their protective clothing, as well as civilians, had followed Nole here. Looking past them, Boma saw perhaps two dozen more colonists on the narrow service road curving away from the landing tarmac and leading back toward town. If the doctor was aware of his entourage, he offered no response to it as he stepped closer to Boma.

“Samuel,” Nole said, offering a smile. “We have just received word from our traffic control center. Your people will be arriving within moments. Your ordeal is nearing an end.”

Nodding, Boma said, “I can’t thank you enough for everything you and your people have done for us.” The most difficult aspect of the past two days had been his dwelling on the loss of Captain Arens and so many other good people. Cramped conditions aboard the
Huang Zhong
and the enforced proximity they engendered had made the men and women serving aboard the ship as much a family as they had been a crew. The assignment had been unlike any other during his career, and Boma doubted it was an experience that would be duplicated. Losing them in such an abrupt, violent manner was something with which he knew he would have to come to terms, but for the moment he was coping well enough, and much of the credit for that was owed to Tranketh Nole su Dronnu, his team of assistants, and other members of the mining colony who had
taken it upon themselves to make him, Kari, and Rideout welcome.

“We have been happy to do so,” Nole replied. “From what we have been told, our two peoples have been working together in harmony for some time, even if meeting you and your companions was something of a shock to us.” Glancing to Shin, he added, “I for one cannot wait to return to Dolysia and learn more about our new Federation friends.”

Boma smiled at that. “I know I’m biased, but I think you’re in for a treat.” He saw the look of confusion on Nole’s face, and realized he once more had fallen into the trap of using idioms, something with which universal translation software often had trouble. “What I meant was that I think you’ll find a great deal to like about us. At least, I hope you do.”

“I have no doubts that I will,” Nole said. Then, she looked past him and up into the sky before pointing in that direction. Turning, he peered upward and noted the two small objects descending through the clouds toward them. Their slate-gray hulls appeared violet in the light of the Gralafi day, the sun’s rays playing off the crafts’ smooth lines as one followed the other toward the surface.

“A very simple, yet elegant design,” Shin observed, watching with rapt fascination as the shuttlecraft slowed their rate of descent, banking as their pilots directed the vessels toward their assigned landing coordinates. “And such maneuverability.”

Boma sighed. “They have their good and bad points,” he said, his thoughts turning to another Starfleet shuttlecraft—one in which he had almost died. It was easy to recall the unpleasant memories of that day, particularly when
considering the ship that had been dispatched to assist the
Huang Zhong
.

This should be fun
.

The thought, tainted with no small amount of bitterness, occupied him as he watched the two shuttlecraft settle to the landing field, both ships having pivoted so that their main access hatches faced their audience. Boma read the familiar markings that indicated the craft belonged to the
Enterprise
, along with its own designation:
Columbus
. Its companion shuttle was emblazoned with the name
Einstein II
, and Boma could not help but wonder what fate might have befallen the previous shuttlecraft bearing the moniker, and whether this indicated a tradition aboard the
Enterprise
.

They must go through a lot of shuttles. There’s probably a
Galileo II
up there, too. I guess I should be glad they didn’t send that one to fetch us.

As the shuttles’ engines powered down, he heard the familiar whine of escaping air heralding the release of pressurized seals as the access hatches opened on both craft. A Triexian officer stepped down from the
Einstein
’s hatch, dressed in a gold uniform shirt and what looked to be black shorts, tailored to fit his physique and accommodate his three arms and legs. However, it was the occupants of the
Columbus
that caught Boma’s attention. Despite his best efforts and his own promise to himself not to overreact in this situation, he could not help the feeling of apprehension that came over him as he caught sight of the first figure emerging from the shuttlecraft: Spock.

“Here we go,” he said, not realizing until he heard the words that he had spoken them aloud. Boma had not seen the Vulcan since before his own ignominious departure
from the
Enterprise
more than two years earlier, and seeing him now only served to bring forth all of the feelings he had strived so hard to suppress. He drew a deep breath, commanding himself to be at ease. Whatever past history existed between him and Spock, Boma knew he had a duty to carry out, here and now. The crew of the
Huang Zhong
deserved nothing less.

As Spock stepped down to the tarmac, he was followed by a man wearing a red uniform tunic, whom Boma quickly recognized as Ross Johnson, a friendly and very capable officer. The third person to disembark from the shuttle made Boma smile. He had always welcomed and enjoyed the company of Leonard McCoy, something that did not change in the aftermath of their ill-fated mission together to Taurus II, and he was pleased to see that McCoy remained in place as the
Enterprise
’s chief medical officer.

I wonder if he’s still giving Spock grief at every turn.

Deciding that playing it by the book was the best option at the present time, Boma stepped forward until he stood before Spock, assuming a military stance as he offered a formal nod. “Commander Spock: Lieutenant Boma, acting commanding officer of the
Huang Zhong
. Welcome to Gralafi. I only wish it were under different circumstances.”

To his surprise, Spock replied, “Greetings, Lieutenant. While I appreciate the observance of protocol, it is not necessary, given the circumstances.” He paused as though considering his next words, before adding, “I offer my condolences on the loss of your captain and crewmates.”

Unsure as to how to proceed, Boma nodded. “Thank you, sir.” Turning, he indicated Shin with the hand of his
uninjured arm. “I’d like to introduce you to Drinja Shin te Elsqa, administrator of the Havreltipa colony as well as the mining corporation’s operations here on Gralafi, and Tranketh Nole su Dronnu, the colony’s head physician.” To the Dolysians, he said, “May I present Commander Spock, first officer and science officer of the
U.S.S. Enterprise
.”

“It is an honor to meet you, Commander,” Shin said, reaching as though to touch Spock before halting her motion, her expression turning to one of uncertainty. “Forgive me. Samuel briefed us on Vulcan greeting customs; I simply forgot in the excitement of the moment.”

Spock shook his head. “You need not apologize, madam. No offense was intended, or taken. It is our privilege to meet you, as well. Captain James Kirk asked me to convey his own greetings, and that he anticipates meeting you himself at the earliest opportunity.”

“We look forward to that, as well,” Nole replied.

As though deciding to dispense with the formalities, and much to Boma’s amusement, McCoy stepped forward, extending his left hand to Boma in deference to the lieutenant’s injured right arm. “It’s good to see you, Sam. How are you feeling?”

Boma took the doctor’s proffered hand before reaching across to tap the sling supporting his right arm. “This busted wing is my biggest complaint. Nole here was able to set it, but it hasn’t yet been determined what effects Dolysian pain medications might have on humans, and we haven’t been able to salvage any medical equipment or drugs from the
Huang Zhong
. So, we opted not to chance it.” He grimaced as he recalled the discomfort he had lived with these past two days.

McCoy wasted no time reaching for the medical kit on his hip. He extracted a hypospray and selected a small vial, which he attached to the injector mechanism. Moving to Boma, he placed the hypospray against his patient’s left arm and activated it. The hiss of the device and the tingle of the application was a welcome feeling, but it was nothing compared to the immediate fading of the pain in his right arm. For the first time in more than fifty hours, Boma did not feel like hacking off his own limb.

“Thanks, Doctor. You have no idea how good that feels.”

“I can guess,” McCoy said as he returned the hypospray to his kit. “I can take care of the arm itself, too. I’ve got a bone-knitter aboard the shuttle. We’ll have you fixed up in no time.”

“That’s the best news I’ve heard in two days,” Boma said. “Chief Rideout has some torn ligaments and a couple of really bad cuts. Nole was able to treat those, too, but she’ll probably be happy to see you.”

“Doctor,” McCoy said, looking to Nole, “I can’t thank you enough for looking after our people. If you can show me to somewhere I can work, I’d appreciate it.”

The Dolysian physician nodded. “Of course. If you will follow me, I will direct you to our infirmary. Perhaps I can observe as you treat your patients. I have heard that Federation medical knowledge and technology is far more advanced than ours.”

After glancing to Spock, who nodded for him to proceed, McCoy looked to Johnson. “Lieutenant, would you mind helping me grab the bone-knitter and some other equipment from the shuttle?”

“Not a problem, sir,” the security officer said, after
which McCoy invited Nole to join them as they began walking toward the
Columbus
. Boma watched the two physicians engage in conversation as they departed. Just having McCoy here seemed to make him feel better, he decided. The doctor’s bedside manner and overall approach when it came to the patients in his care was but one of the many qualities Boma had always admired, and he was one of several people Boma had missed since leaving the
Enterprise
. In truth, he even missed Spock, he realized, as he turned back to face the Vulcan and the Triexian lieutenant, who introduced himself as Arex.

“Do you have a report of what happened, Mister Boma?” Spock asked, his voice as flat and devoid of emotion as his expression. Unable to read whatever thoughts might be lurking behind the impenetrable Vulcan façade, Boma felt the initial pangs of familiar resentment. It had been two years since the mission to explore the Murasaki 312 quasar, in which Spock had commanded a team of specialists from the
Enterprise
—including Boma—aboard the shuttlecraft
Galileo
. As he met Spock’s steady, unwavering gaze, the memories of that mission came flooding back to the forefront of his consciousness.

Latimer and Gaetano, murdered by those creatures. The rest of us scared for our lives, and with every setback and every death, he just kept looking at me—at all of us—the exact same way. All we wanted was some reassurance, some compassion or understanding from our commanding officer, anything that might have told us we were going to be all right and make it out of that hell. But no, that wouldn’t have been
logical.
Instead, all we got was that same damned blank stare, you bastard.

The thoughts came unbidden, and he pushed them
back. Now was not the time for rehashing the past. Cradling his sling and his wounded arm a bit closer to his chest, Boma cleared his throat, struggling to keep an edge from his voice. “I don’t have a formal report, sir. Between caring for Kari and Rideout and being the Federation liaison for the colony, I haven’t had the time to prepare one, let alone the equipment. I’m happy to tell you what I know for now.”

“That will have to suffice,” Spock said. “What can you report about the circumstances which led to the
Huang Zhong
’s crash?”