Legends of Darkover

Chapter 12

-oOo-

Regis' and Catriona's prone bodies assumed form on the Enterprise, Danilo hovering over them.   He looked up in surprise.  “What?  Who are--” 

“We're your rescuers, laddie,” said Scotty as McCoy and his team surged onto the platform.  “Crew of the Starship Enterprise at your service.  These people are our medical personnel.”

A moment later Lord Ardais dashed into the room.  “Off,” Dyan snapped at Danilo.  “Others need to arrive after you.  Be quick.” 

“Regis needs help immediately!” protested Danilo.  “He's going into shock.” McCoy's team had already loaded the two stunned forms on stretchers.

“I'm stabilizing him,” McCoy replied.   

“Though necessity has made you adopt these, we are still people of the Compact,” said Dyan as he confiscated the blasters and lightsaber from his foster-son.  He gave the lightsaber a toss, feeling its weight with curiosity.  

“Just one moment.”  Danilo pointed at his foster-father's chest.  “That pilot.  I am never linking with you again, not for ANY REASON WHATSOEVER.  I WILL DIE, first.  Do you understand?”

Dyan only raised his eyebrows.  “Are my tastes too rich for you?” he said in a low tone.  Danilo whitened and stepped back.  McCoy was leaving with his patients, and with an appalled glance at his foster-father, Danilo hurried after the doctor.

The two Jedi beamed in next with a batch of security personnel.  Qui-gon was holding up the sagging Obi-wan, the apprentice's arm wrapped around his shoulders.

“'old space too many,” slurred Obi-wan. 

“Step down now,” said Qui-gon mildly.  “There's a good padawan.  You look like you've been at the Jet Juice.”

“'ave not,” replied Obi-wan with numb-lipped indignation.  “Takin' out Sithspit.” 

Qui-gon laughed a little.  “Are you a medic?” he asked a hovering crewman.  “Good.  I have another patient for you.  There's a stretcher here, Padawan, just let yourself drop.”

Obi-wan sprawled on the soft white bed and passed out.

“Move aside please,” said Kirk when he materialized with the last batch of crew.  “Uhura?” he said into his communicator.  “Everyone's back on board the Enterprise.”

“Are you sure, Captain?” Uhura replied.

“Yes.” 

“Go ahead, Mr. Scott,” said Uhura. 

“Good Lord,” exclaimed Kirk at the size of the last bomb.   The dumbbell-shaped metal casing was so large it had to be held in the arms of a power-crane. 

“Isn't she beautiful, Captain?  Had my lads rig her up at the last moment.  One end's a fusion bomb and the other's a photon torpedo.  Wait'll you see how they work together.  A clever bit of engineering she is, for a jerry-rig.”

“Do it,” said Kirk.

“If you insist.” Mr. Scott gave a doleful sigh.

“Scotty!” Kirk shouted, shutting his eyes in exasperation. 

“I suppose you're right, Captain, though I really hate to see a ship of such remarkable design go up without having a look at her.” 

“You can examine the remains.  Just get rid of her.”  He ran for the turbolift up to the bridge, with Spock, Qui-gon, and Dyan Ardais right after him.

“Just a moment, lads,” Scotty said to his crew.  “I need to fetch something.  Ah, I have it locked.  There.  Grab that from the platform, will you, Samuelson?  I think a certain guest of ours will be glad to have it back.  Now, one last thing, here.”  He manipulated the controls again, but to his crew's puzzlement nothing appeared on the platform.  Scotty, however, was satisfied.  “That's done, too.  Now load 'er up.”  He nodded to the bomb.

Kirk and the others almost fell out of the turbolift in their rush, their eyes going to the viewscreen.  The Captain was panting from adrenaline. 

The Raptor exploded from the rear, firing the photon torpedo inside the ship.  The rear control tower was blown off, and the Raptor split in two as the torpedo plowed towards the bow.  In the stern, the ship's engines went up like massive red fireworks, overwhelming the sensors until they adjusted for brightness.  When the image of the Raptor returned, she was in pieces.  The remaining starfighters buzzed about the wreckage like confused flies over a carcass. 

“Acceptable,” said Dyan. 

“Is that all?” Kirk replied, trying to control his temper.  Uhura gave up the captain's chair to him.  “Thank you, Lieutenant.  Thank you all,” he said to his crew.

“There is life out there among the small ships.”

“I'm afraid Dom Ardais is right,” said Qui-gon.  “My old master was a man who believed in planning for all outcomes.  The Force tells me he's escaped in one of the starfighters.”

“Pick 'em off,” Kirk ordered Sulu.  “Move us closer, Mr. Chekov.”

Dyan muttered something to himself as he took out his matrix again.  “It might be possible to destroy the ships another way.”

“I understand, Dom Ardais,” said Sulu.  Kirk gave them a puzzled look while Qui-gon raised an eyebrow.  As the Enterprise approached the agitated mass of starfighters gliding about the Raptor, the Captain said, “Explain, Mr. Chekov.”

“Dom Ardais can force ships together if he has a living mind he can influence.”

The Captain eyed Dyan, but the man was already bent over his matrix in concentration.  Sulu waited, fingers poised over the phaser controls as Chekov edged them closer.  Kirk was watching the power levels of the shields, but shots from enemy laser cannon were not as draining as proton torpedoes.  The Enterprise could risk a hit or two before having to retreat.

The still-bright wreckage of the Raptor was gradually filling the screen.  “I have one,” Dyan said.  Lord Ardais bared his teeth.  “He is being difficult.  The man has laran.”  Nonetheless, several ships slowly began to form a cluster.

Sulu's fingers pounced on the controls.  A phaser strike blew through the cluster.

“Ah!” Dyan snarled.  The starfighters vanished.

Kirk leaned forward eagerly, noting with alarm that all the starfighters had vanished—even the ones Sulu hadn't been aiming for.

“Fold Space,” said Qui-gon wearily.  “They all leapt an instant before you fired.”

Everyone slumped in their chairs.  “Damn it,” muttered Chekov.

“Where are they, Spock?” said Kirk urgently.  “Did they head for the planet?”

“I can detect no traces of the enemy, Captain, but the reverse side of Darkover is in a sensor shadow.”

“Head for Darkover immediately, Mr. Chekov,” Kirk said.  “Warp factor nine.”

The ship gave a rude jolt as it sprang.  A few minutes later they dropped out on the other side of the planet.  Spock scanned the space there but found nothing. 

“My count of the surviving Sith starts with four minds,” Qui-gon mused, “two of whom died during the fighting on the Raptor.  We know Darth Tyranus escaped, and Mr. Spock wounded Darth Inculcare, though I did not sense his death.  I am assuming the deaths were of Xiphos and Gladius.  At no point did I feel the presence of Lord Plagueis.  I will have to ask my padawan for confirmation when he wakes up. ”

“We also need to question the kids we rescued,” said Kirk, still scanning his viewscreen. 

“Sith Fold Space must be capable of bridging great distances,” commented Spock.

“It's not Sith,” Obi-wan corrected.  “It's Jedi.  Both Inculcare and Tyranus are capable of it, though it's not the method they prefer.  Force Travel is the Sith technique.  If they'd used Force Travel they'd be easy to follow.  Unfortunately, Fold Space is not, since it doesn't leave detectable wounds in space/time.” 

“Mr. Chekov, start a circumferential patrol.  We need to find these guys.  Lieutenant Uhura, tell Starfleet that approximately twenty-odd enemy ships are running around loose in Federation space, and send a warning to Daniel Lawton in case any of them try to slip past us towards the planet.”  He glanced at Qui-gon.  “How far can the Sith leap with Fold Space?”

“Many star systems away, if they were so inclined.  But the most important factor we must consider is this, Captain.  Their goal is Darkover.  They would not have gone far.  It's most likely they're still lurking in-system.  Their obvious hiding place is behind one of the other planets, unless they have  some sort of cloaking device operating.  However, keep in mind that starfighters are not normally equipped with cloaking technology.”

Kirk nodded.  “Could you find their location with the Force?  Do you have a distance limit?” he asked the Jedi. 

“Normally I ought to be able to feel them even if they're several planet-lengths away,” replied Qui-gon.  “But I can't, now.  There is a technique known as Force Stealth, and I'm afraid they're using it to conceal themselves.  Plagueis is a master of the skill, and I am certain Inculcare must be as well.  As for Tyranus, I know he's quite capable at it.  However, you can still track them by their ion trails once they drop out of Fold Space." 

“It looks like that's the method we'll have to use.”  Kirk's eyes narrowed.  “Maybe the Darkovans--”  He glanced at Lord Ardais, who glared back at him.

“I am not a tower-trained telepath,” Dyan replied sharply.  “You are asking much if you wish one of us to stretch our minds that far.  Neither Regis nor Danilo have the reach.  If you need assistance, Domna Catriona is our strongest and best-trained telepath.”

Kirk spoke into his intercom.  “Bones, how far along are you?”

“We've finished with all the patients, although Regis Hastur's hand was a bitch to repair. He had one hell of a burn and still needs another day before the skin transplant is finished.”

 

“Can they be questioned?”

“Not Hastur.  He's completely out, as is Obi-wan.  I'm not sure about the other two.  Let me check with Christine.”

“We're heading down anyway,” said Kirk.  He rose from his chair, and Dyan followed him into the turbolift.

-oOo-

“Don't move,” said Torres to Danilo.  The Emergency Medical Technician was holding up Danilo's hand.  “You have a boxer's fracture,” he added cheerfully.  “Broke the neck of one of your metacarpals.  I'm knitting the bones together, and then I'll take the swelling down.  This may feel strange.”  Torres held up a boxy device to the hand, and Danilo felt something like an itching inside his knuckle, if that were possible.

“Now, exhale firmly into this,” Torres said.  He fitted his patient's mouth and nose with some sort of breathing mask connected to a tube, and Danilo had to fight the urge to claw the strange thing off his face.  He could barely stand it with his wheeze and phlegmy cough.  The mask rested awkwardly over his bruised cheek.  Torres insisted he wear it to clean his lungs, saying, “The inhalant bonds to the heavier particles in your lungs and breaks them down, and then they're expelled when you breathe out.  You took in too much smoke from a fire.”

“Who is that?  Is he a Sith?” said Danilo, eyeing the unconscious Obi-wan with alarm.  The man felt strange to his laran.  “A person who looked exactly like him tried to ambush us.  His appearance changed to that of a Sith called Xiphos, who is dead now.  I fear this may be another trick."

“He's on our side,” Torres replied quickly.  “This is Obi-wan Kenobi, a Jedi knight.  The Jedi are enemies of the Sith and they have been following the Sith a long way.  Obi-wan here helped lead the assault against the Raptor."

Somewhat reassured, Danilo studied the unconscious form of Regis.  Regis was wearing a mask like himself while Doctor McCoy flensed dead tissue from the burn, a gruesome sight.  A  machine with dozens of probes was imprisoning Regis' good hand.

“Why hasn't he woken?  The stun should have worn off,” Danilo said, his voice muffled by the mask. 

“He's been given a sedative,” McCoy called across the room.  “I don't want him waking up in the middle of treatment.”

“What is wrong with his right hand?   It was the left that was injured.”

“The Doc's taking tissue samples for growth and transplant.  Your friend should heal fully,” said Torres.   

Tears began to work their way down Danilo's face, fogging his mask with humidity. 

“Do you need a painkiller?” asked Torres gently. 

“No, it is not the pain.  It is Regis and Catriona.  Neither of them deserves this.”  Danilo could tell his lungs were clearing, because he could sob quietly without coughing so hard. 

McCoy glanced at Danilo's face.  “Torres.  Examination room C and a hypo of sonambutril.  10 mL of metheclin.”

“No, wait!” said Danilo as Torres loaded a hypo.  He had caught McCoy's intent with laran. “I must stay awake for Catriona.  When your nurse is finished with her, I must treat her myself.  She has a sickness in her laran.” 

The skepticism he could sense in McCoy's mind frustrated Danilo.  He had no easy way of telling them what was wrong with her, and his oath to the Comyn prevented him from explaining his dona to outsiders.  “What is your metheclin?” he asked.

“It's for treating stress disorders,” Torres explained. 

“All right,” said Danilo.  “You may give it to me.”   After his unwilling visit to Aldaran last year, he could see the wisdom of such a medicine.  “Please give it to Regis and Catriona before they wake up.  Catriona needs it especially.”  He hesitated, not sure what these male doctors knew or what they ought to know.  Catriona would be upset if everyone discovered what Inculcare had done to her.  “I must speak to your nurse Chapel when she is done.” 

McCoy gave him a fish-eyed look.  Danilo refused to meet his gaze.

As Torres was preparing the hypo his patient gave a violent gasp, staring into space.  “What has happened?"

“What do you mean?"

“Many are dead.  I just felt their loss."

McCoy glanced their way.  “I suspect that's Jim getting serious.  Let me call upstairs.  Uhura?  What's the situation?"

The Lieutenant replied, “Scotty just blew up the Raptor."

“Damn!  I might as well break out the whiskey," McCoy replied with a grin.  “Would you like a shot after I finish?" he asked Danilo.

Danilo only stared at him, dazed. 

“How the heck does anyone get a hypo through your clothes?  Medidev designed 'em that way, but man, it looks like you're wearing rhino hide,” said Torres.

Danilo wasn't sure what rhino hide was, but he could sense the man label the cracked travel leathers with their crude sinew stitching 'primitive.'  Danilo happened to agree with him.  He'd dressed for hard travel, not glamor.  “My jerkin undoubtedly saved me some bruises,” Danilo commented as he wrestled an arm out of a sleeve with Torres' help.  The hypo went easily through the white Ardais linen beneath.  He could feel Torres' eyes lingering on a scorch mark and the man's troubled thought about what had caused the burn.  Danilo had forgotten about the black ball that had shot him up.  Now that he tallied his injuries, he realized he had indeed taken a bit of a beating, as Dom Felix might have said.  It was a Syrtis tradition to depreciate one's physical hurts, a trait unsurprising in a family that produced paxmen.

Torres led him off to examination room C, apparently to get Regis out of his sight.  The Medtech then healed the bruise on Danilo's face, scrubbed his face clean in a manner unpleasantly reminiscent of Domna Luciella, Catriona's mother, and started healing the burning punctures from the torture droid. 

“Is there any way to have a bath?”

“The metheclin must be working,” said Torres light-heartedly.  “What, you don't want dinner first?”

Danilo met his eyes somberly.  “Purification ritual,” he muttered.

“Purification ritual?  I didn't know you Darkovans had them.”

“We don't.”

“Then why—oh, you need to wash off the smoke residue.”

“No, my foster-father,” replied Danilo darkly. 

“Huh?”

Danilo refused to elaborate, only saying, “I thank you for your efforts, Doctor Torres.”

“No problem.  I'm just finishing up here.”  -So many holes the bastards must have used him for target practice.-

Danilo caught the angry mental thought, but did not respond.

“There, you're done.  I'll show you the shower and get you a towel.  The bathroom's over here next to our supply closet.  There's also a processor that'll clean your clothes while you wash.”

The Medtech guided Danilo to the bathroom, explained what the devices did, then left him alone.  Warily, Danilo fed his clothes into the processor, a little alarmed as the chute seized them from his hands and ate them up with a mechanical whine.  He hoped the processor would return them at some point, and wouldn't strangle on his thick travel leathers.  He stared with some bewilderment at the shower.  He'd heard of such things—Regis said they had them in Comyn Castle--but Danilo had never used one before.  After giving the shower's controls some study he experimented and got a jet of water right in the eyes. 

“Zandru's Hells!”

“Are you all right in there?” McCoy called through the door.

“Yes.”  Danilo leaned his forehead against the side of the stall, feeling absolutely fed-up as the water soaked his hair.  He didn't think he could stand any more shocks today.  Gathering himself together, he poked at a lever and it squirted him with a gooey white substance, splashing him from torso to leg.  He stared at the stain in dismay.  A sniff of the goo identified it as soap, but it reminded him far too much of a substance he was trying to get rid of.  He hadn't been joking to Torres about that purification ritual.  

The memory replayed in his mind before he could stop it.  Of the pilot Skyms hurtling towards the Raptor in terror at approaching death, and Dyan's sick delight at the man's fear.  As the pilot exploded in a fireball, an orgasm had washed over Dyan and poured through the link he held with his foster-son while Danilo writhed, unable to dodge the emotion or break the link. 

Sometimes, Danilo really, really hated his foster-father.  

He scrubbed until he was clean, and was relieved to see the processor had indeed returned his clothes.  After toweling off and dressing he left to see Catriona.  The door to Examination Room B was still shut, so he knocked.  He did not dare use laran to see if Catriona was awake yet. 

“Hello?”  The door inched open, and Christine Chapel peeked out.

-Is it too soon to pay Catriona a visit?-

The nurse jumped as Danilo's mental voice spoke inside her head.

-I am sorry to startle you, but I wish our conversation to be private.  Are any traces of her hurts left?  All of them must be gone.  Every mark, everything--or she will become sick when she uses her laran.- 

The nurse was staring at him, a little dazed.  -Can you hear me like this?-

-Yes.-

-I have done everything I can to return her physical health.  My main concern is her mental state.  She's been kidnapped and abused, and no one recovers easily--

The nurse broke off.  -Damned telepathy,- she thought.

Danilo sensed that Chapel hadn't meant to say that last part to him and dropped his eyes.  “It is all right.  I know the recovery is slow.”

“Is that Danilo?” said Catriona.  “Let him in.”

Catriona's robe had been exchanged for a thin hospital gown.  Without her keeper's crimson she looked much more like the Castamir cousin he remembered.  Her face was troubled as she sat on the examination table.

“What has happened?  I have only just woken and Christine has not had time to tell me.  Is Regis well?"

Danilo gave her a summary of what he knew, and Catriona went very still when she heard that Lord Ardais had used her dona to kill Xiphos. 

“He.  Used.  Me?” she said very slowly.  “He took over the mind of a keeper?” 

Danilo sighed.  “We are twins, then.”   

“He has the Alton gift,” said Catriona, half-question, half-statement.  “On Darkover he would  be charged in Council for such a crime.”  She stared hard at Danilo.  Her expression was too searching for his comfort, though he kept his mind closed.  “He has used his dona illegally before?”

Danilo bowed his head.  “And paid amends, though that may be difficult to see.  This is why I'm heir to the Ardais lands.”

“I will not question you if you think your quarrel with him has been resolved.  Nonetheless, if he misuses his laran again, I will deal with him as a keeper should, though he is an ally.” Her tone grew hard.  “I hope for his sake he has indeed reformed.”

“Now that you have been brought up to date, are you ready to be my patient?"  Danilo tried to smile at her.  He held his hands out, palms up, but the image of confidence he tried to project was undermined by his trembling fingers.

Her eyes widened a little and she swallowed.  "I never thought I would need this treatment.  Janine was right.  It will be a strange process.  Are you sure you should be attempting the clearing so soon?  Your laran is still weak,” she said, watching his fingers.

“It doesn't take much strength.  I assure you it won't hurt, and I will touch your thoughts as lightly--"

"Oh hush, boy.  You're talking to a keeper.  As for my privacy, I always tell you my thoughts anyway."

While Christine watched with curiosity, they placed palm to palm and began the merge.  Catriona's barely controlled distress mirrored his own, yet the bond exerted its own calming influence through its strong emotional closeness. 

Kirk and Dyan entered midway and were waved to silence by Christine.

"What?" Kirk whispered to Chapel, reminding himself not to stare at the keeper. 

Christine shrugged her shoulders.

“He's clearing her channels,” said Dyan.  “Do not interrupt.”

When Danilo finished, Catriona smiled and laughed slightly.  -I take back every bad thing I ever did to you when I was younger.  I had no idea a merge could be so refreshing.  Usually the one having her channels cleared is screaming in agony.  I feel like my soul has been purged.  No wonder Domna Ysabet was worried about leaving Janine to your naive and artless wiles.-

-Do you know you are nearly as annoying as my foster-father?- Danilo replied.  -And Dyan sets a formidably high mark to match.-

Catriona laughed at him.

When their palms separated, Kirk cleared his throat.  "Pardon me, Domna Catriona, we need your assistance in locating the remaining Sith.  A few ships have escaped."

"I will do what I can.  You must pardon me yourself, for I do not know your name."

Kirk introduced himself and received the earnest thanks of both.  Danilo added, “I cannot but marvel at the luck of the Enterprise being here.  It is an amazing coincidence that Regis should have joined you as well.  I do not think I could have made contact with anyone besides him.”

“Well, one of your Elhalyn telepaths arranged the former; as for young Hastur, he took care of the latter himself,” said the Captain ruefully.

“I had not heard of this prophecy before now,” said Dyan.  His face grew wrathful.   “This emmasca laranzu might have at least warned me if his vision involved Danilo.  But one can never reason with an Elhalyn,” he added with contemptuous dismissal. 

“How was it you learned of my disappearance?” Danilo asked his foster-father, blushing at Dyan's abrasiveness in front of the off-worlders. 

“A chervine,” replied Lord Ardais.  “Domna Catriona's chervine witnessed your abduction and ran off in fright.  The matrix worker Domna Aillard sent after you happened to be a Ridenow, and she was able to read the animal's mind.  Domna Aillard sent me word that you had been taken by spacemen and she passed the message on to the Regent.”  His colorless eyes took in Danilo's appearance.  “I trust you are now well?”

“I am much recovered, thanks to the Captain's medical staff.” 

“Good.  Domna, our enemies?" Dyan prompted.

"Wait!" said Danilo.  "You are going to be scanning space with your laran?  I may be of assistance with my dona."

"Normally you would," replied Catriona.  Her fingertips brushed Danilo's forehead.  "But not now.  Eat and sleep before you collapse, little cousin." 

She took out her matrix and concentrated.  After several silent minutes she opened her eyes.

"This is a frustrating task, Captain.  I have no frame of reference to judge the distance I have searched in this endless void.  Worse, I have found nothing.  I am afraid this is all I can do."

"Thank you for trying," said Kirk.  “I'd like to debrief both of you about what happened on the Raptor before you leave.” 

“That will be difficult.  Do not object, Captain, if I do not explain everything,” said Catriona firmly.  Danilo was studying the floor.

“All right, then,” replied Kirk.

As Chapel escorted Catriona to dinner, Lord Ardais said to Kirk, “I must go tell the Regent about the rescue and arrange for the message to be passed on to Domna Catriona's family.  Meanwhile, I expect you and your crew to take good care of my son while he is on board this ship.”  He glared defiantly at the Captain, as if daring him to make a comment, and left.

It was not often Kirk’s jaw dropped.  “You’re his son?”

“Foster-son,” Danilo corrected.  “He's my mother's half-brother.  He adopted me about a year ago.” 

Slowly, the Captain looked him up and down.

“No!” replied Danilo with vehemence.  “The answer is no.  I don't need to be a telepath to read that thought.”

“How’d you know what I was thinking if you didn’t read my mind?” 

“Because everyone thinks the same thing,” replied Danilo wearily. 

“But–”

“It is workable,” Danilo insisted. 

Kirk shook himself.  “Anyway, the Enterprise and her crew will do everything they can for you.  Just a moment.”  He leaned out the door, saying, “Ensign Choudry, show Dom Danilo where the mess hall is.”

After the two had left, Kirk joined McCoy and watched him fit a transmat glove over Regis' hand.  Hastur was still unconscious.

“Bones?  Did you hear us?” 

“The intercom to the examination room was wide open,” drawled McCoy. 

“Correct me if I'm wrong.  We've just rescued this kid from the Sith, after great trouble and effort.  Then what do we do?  We hand him over to Dyan Ardais.”

“Seems to be the case,” replied Bones sardonically.

“WHAT THE HELL?” the Captain shouted.  “I don’t believe this!  Don't Darkovans have child protection laws?”

Bones snorted.  “You think a medieval culture possesses such effete refinements?” 

“If it weren't for those starfighters,” replied Kirk with heat, “I’d be wading through their furry-hided legal code right now.  I’m ordering the crew to keep an eye on those two as long as Danilo's here.  Damn, I can’t believe this.  Darkovans can really drive you crazy.”  He frowned at the sleeping Regis as he spoke.

-oOo-