Sal glanced toward Cambridge. “There are no visible signs of neurological damage. Almost everything I’ve seen conforms to your baseline scans when you joined the fleet.”
“Almost?” Cambridge asked, sliding off the bed and approaching Sal from the opposite side of Gwyn.
“A significant finding of excess synaptic activity in your amygdala and temporal lobe suggests that new emotional connections are being processed.”
“Do those findings correspond to anything in our database?” Cambridge asked.
Sal nodded. “Many years ago, Doctor Beverly Crusher of the Enterprise found herself in the presence of an empathic metamorph. She had been brought aboard to seal a political alliance through marriage, and according to Crusher’s logs, there was some concern on her captain’s part that there might be an element of coercion involved. Crusher was not permitted, of course, to examine the metamorph, who was apparently undergoing the finiis’ral while on the Enterprise. But because Beverly Crusher was and remains one of the most indefatigable officers ever to grace Starfleet Medical, she managed to use the ship’s internal sensors to take several inconspicuous scans of the young woman throughout her stay. They aren’t as detailed as the ones I have just completed, but they do correlate in terms of neurological activity with what I’m seeing here.”
“Does that prove anything?” Gwyn asked.
“It suggests to me that your account of bonding with the embryo is valid,” Sal said.
The relief on Gwyn’s face was palpable. “See?” she said, jerking her head toward Cambridge.
Cambridge nodded. “I do,” he said. “And while this complicates our future, I am prepared to report to the admiral that your suspicions are now grounded in science and evidence, and should therefore be given significant consideration.” After a moment he added, “Has your sense of connection to the embryo changed at all in the last several hours?”
Gwyn closed her eyes, clearly looking inside for the answers she sought. After a moment she shook her head. “She’s still there.”
“Very well, Ensign. You may return to your quarters,” Cambridge said, dismissing her.
“Do us a favor, though?” Sal asked. “If anything does change…?”
“I’ll let you know. I promise,” Gwyn said.
When she had gone, Cambridge followed Sal into her private office.
“I wonder if you can tell me, based upon your previous work with the Kriosians, how well Gwyn is likely to hold up under the strain of being separated from the child?” he asked.
Sal sat back in her chair, crossing her arms. “I’ve never seen this before, so it’s hard to tell. Bonding with the embryo meant she didn’t have to sacrifice her sense of self to become another’s perfect mate. However, the point of the bonding is connection, and I imagine this separation will be quite painful.”
“But there will always be some distance between her and this child. It isn’t as if she’s going to move into the Kims’ family quarters should we manage to find them.”
“That’s a bridge we won’t have to cross for some time. For now, you need to keep her sane and focused on the things that she can control.”
“I can’t return her to duty.”
“Then bury her in paperwork. And continue regular counseling.”
“Didn’t Icheb say that she wanted to talk to her mother?”
“I don’t know. Did he?”
“I wonder if they’re close.”
“There are walls a mile wide around that kid. I don’t know who she’s close to, but I’d be amazed if it was her mother.”
“Still something to consider, I suppose.”
“You do that. I’m done practicing medicine for the foreseeable future. None of your patients will be at further risk of harm from me.”
“El’nor,” Cambridge said, “you’re much too wise to allow a single lapse in judgment under obscenely unique circumstances to end your career.”
“I’m afraid that isn’t my call to make, Counselor.”
“No, it’s mine,” the voice of Captain Farkas said.
Sal hadn’t heard the captain enter her office. She turned abruptly and felt a twinge of nerves in her stomach.
Cambridge stepped toward Farkas immediately. “Regina,” he greeted her.
“Counselor, would you excuse us, please?” Farkas asked.
Sal, who would have been delighted to have spent the last few hours without a chaperone, suddenly found herself wishing Cambridge would find cause for defiance—not that he usually needed persuading to make himself disagreeable.
The counselor, however, had mastered the art of reading a room. “Of course, Captain.” With a cheeky nod to Sal, he departed, leaving the two women, once the closest of friends, alone.
“I was ordered by Admiral Janeway to examine Gwyn,” Sal began, deciding to get a jump on the protestations part of this conversation.
“I know,” Farkas said, crossing past Sal and perching herself on the edge of the doctor’s workstation. She carried herself with a heavy, pensive air, one Sal had seen often enough. She was tempted to suggest Regina vent elsewhere whatever frustrations she might feel at this usurpation of her command prerogatives but was also curious to see how this was going to play out.
“What is it?” Sal found herself asking reflexively, as if the distance between them had never opened.
Farkas lifted storm-filled eyes to El’nor’s. “I haven’t formally reinstated you yet, so this conversation is as far from the official record as it is possible to get, yes?”
It had gone without saying for their entire careers that confidences between them were absolute. That Farkas felt the need to ask was painful. But then, so little of life wasn’t.
“I’m still pissed as hell at you, Regina. But if the day ever came that you didn’t feel you could talk to me about anything, I don’t think I’d know what to do with myself.”
Tangible relief graced Farkas’s face. “I think we have a problem.”
“Is this the royal we or am I included in that reference?” Sal asked.
“Could be all of us.”
“Why is there never a single dull moment in this stupid quadrant?” Sal wondered.
Farkas released a ragged breath. “I wish I knew,” she replied. “The DTI wants our fleet to return to Krenim space and attempt to make friends.”
“Then I can only assume that the DTI hasn’t met the Krenim,” Sal said.
“With them, I
