Chapter 9
“Unbelievable,” says Tyrell, staring down at the readings on his tricorder. He’s been saying that for the last few hours as each round of scan results come in. He said it as they realized this was in fact a counteragent, as he realized its mechanism of action, as they found how simple it was to replicate and reprogram for a human–for a specific human.
Now he’s saying it as he scans Diane, who grins up at them from the bed with her usual impish grin. Her cheeks might be hollowed out, and there might be dark circles under her eyes, but the smile is hers again. “I’m going to take that as a compliment. The nausea’s gone, by the way, thank you for that.”
The initial doses had not agreed with the human inner ear. And emesis in humans occurs at the slightest of provocations. Though usually more an inconvenience than a threat to health, Diane’s condition had been delicate enough they’d spent the last few hours trying to synthesize a potent enough antiemetic to stop it.
Diane had complained vigorously throughout the whole process, itself an encouraging sign. At least she had the energy to do so. She is now complaining vociferously about being bored, and demanding a mobility aid, of any kind, to get herself back onto the Bridge once they know she no longer poses a threat of infection. T’Volis gives it a maximum of twenty six hours after that clearance before she begins to take matters into her own hands.
“The last of the modified cells should convert back within the next half-hour,” says Tyrell, sounding almost offended by it. “It’s a remarkably efficient treatment. The chimeric ability to elude the immune system…” He shakes his head.
“Of course it is,” says Diane. “Everything the Dominion does is efficient. This pathogen is a case in point.” She makes a face. “We really dodged a bullet. Can you imagine what would have happened if this occurred during the war?”
Tyrell lifts his eyes briefly to meet T’Volis’s, plainly displeased. “Yes,” he says, not looking down, “We did dodge a bullet, didn’t we.”
The moment they’re in the decontamination chamber, he turns on T’Volis. “You didn’t tell her.”
“You didn’t, either,” T’Volis says.
He makes a frustrated gesture. “You’re the one he gave it to!”
“I am,” she says. “And I do not think divulging its source is a good idea. Subcommander Tanek gave it to me to save the Captain, knowing full well it would mean his death. I see that as very good reason to do everything we can to prevent his superiors finding out what he has done.”
Tyrell looks at her sidelong, then lets out a long breath. “The man is purposefully aggravating,” he says, deliberate understatement, “and I’d be glad to see the back of him, but…” He hesitates. “Very well,” he says. “As far as we’re concerned, it was one of the unidentified samples we found in the rubble we sequenced just in time.”
T’Volis inclines her head in acknowledgement. “I will inform him.”
She finds Tanek in his quarters. “May we speak freely?” she asks, once she has gained admittance. The unspoken question: have you cleared your quarters of listening devices?
He smirks, all disdain and confidence. “Yes.”
“We will inform the Federation that the counteragent was found in one of the laboratory samples. Perhaps there was a contamination that slowed the sequencing process.” She turns to face him, registering the surprise on his face. “Diane would find you dying for her unacceptable. Whatever the cause.”
“Have you told her, then?”
Somehow, it is harder to justify it to him than it was to Tyrell. “I have not. If you wish her to know, you will have to be the one to tell her.”
He snorts. “She would be a fool to believe me.”
“Your own actions would seem to undermine that, Subcommander.”
He looks at her with startlement and then suspicion, and then twists his face with obvious effort into mockery. “Jealousy ill becomes you, Doctor.”
It is a clumsy attempt at offense. She ignores it. “Diane will never ask another to sacrifice their life for her,” she says, “and she had given me to understand she believes seeking your very evident affections will have just such an outcome. Whether this is the case, I leave between the two of you; but she is very unlikely to believe you would lie to her about this.”
“I hadn’t realized the human valorization of romantic love had infected Vulcan as well,” he sneers. “You think I would do something so stupid for mere desire?”
T’Volis lifts an eyebrow at him.
“For a human?” he adds, bristling. “No. You do not let something like her go to waste,” and he might be talking about her as an asset to his assignment, but the venom in his voice belies that. It is something he feels deeply and strongly about, but there is almost an embarrassment to the way he speaks like–
–like it threatens him, deeply, something that’s eroded its way through layers of cynicism and anger and found something there that no agent of the Tal Shiar is ever going to be anything but shamed to acknowledge.
“Because she’s your Captain?” she asks, bland, and it elicits the response she was hoping for–he bridles, mouth going flat and disapproving.
“Please. I’m not Starfleet, and I’m not prone to their sentiments.”
“Ah. But you are to your own.”
“You of all people are the least qualified to understand my decision,” he says, venomous. She must be very close to the heart of the matter.
“Because I broke off our courtship,” she says.
“You rejected her,” he says, harsh.
“We were ill-suited for one another,” she says. “I had not realized it so acutely as I have now. I do not find this life appealing,” she tilts her head, indicating the starship–Starfleet–as a whole, “and she cannot bear anything else. It is intrinsic to who she is, in a way that I did not fully appreciate at the time. She has a far greater tolerance of risk than I do. We were both well of aware of it. Your statement that I rejected her is correct. It was preferential to trammeling her.”
His expression has changed; it’s clear he’s not sure how to respond.
“Whatever your reasoning, it seems that you could not bear to see her die, either,” she says. “You owe me no explanation. Simply know we will do what we can to keep your role in this secret. She would not wish you to die for her.”
“It won’t do me, or her, any good,” he says with finality. “The Tal Shiar are not so easily eluded. They will learn of my role in this. And I will die, whether she wishes it or not.”
T’Volis thinks of Diane, her determination not to seek Tanek’s affections, knowing that it will kill him and perhaps his family, too. If they were genuine, a risk T’Volis doubts Diane would allow herself to run. She has placed her ship and crew ahead of her partner once before.
Why, she wants to ask. There is love in it, certainly, but that is not all.
“I can justify the risk to save her life.” His voice is harsh. “If I had risked it for anything else, I would not deserve her interest.”
If he had risked his family’s lives to gratify his own desire. Yes, T’Volis can agree with this; Diane would have no patience for someone willing to sacrifice other lives to secure her affections.
Her silence seems to be doing more than anything else to unlock his motives; he stares at her another long few moments and adds, “She is… a person of a kind far too rare among any of our peoples. None of us could afford to lose her.”
“Mnhei’sahe,” says T’Volis, experimentally, and he goes still and intent and disdainful, cynical sneer settling onto his face like a mask. She has struck at the root of the matter; his immediate anger is too strong for anything else.
“I hate to disappoint you, Doctor, but not all of us talk like characters from ancient plays,” he says. “I’m sorry if that doesn’t fit with your cherished stereotypes. Now leave.”
There is no more to be said. She goes.