Chapter Text
Malvina ascended the steps to the M’Benga-McCoy Interspecies Medical Campus at Raal on Vulcan, keeping her gaze locked ahead of herself and headed briskly to the reception desk.
Most of the staff she passed were Vulcans, of course, and few if any of them looked twice at her. Those in patients’ scrubs were much more diverse. Out of the corners of her eyes, she recognized humans, Andorians, Tellarites, even the odd Klingon or Cardassian. And they did double-takes as she walked by. For all the species diversity of the Federation and the Alpha Quadrant, the odd alien out still drew attention. Especially a Vorta.
“Good morning,” she said to the orderly at the desk. “My name is Malvina, and I have an appointment with Doctor Stevik?”
The young-looking Vulcan at the desk consulted his computer. “Correct. Please take a seat, Dr. Stevik will be notified.”
If the fact that a Vorta had just come in with an appointment surprised the young receptionist, then he gave no indication of it. But then, he was a Vulcan, and they gave little away. Or perhaps, Malvina chided herself, there was nothing to give away…
She sat in the reception area, going over her schedule on the PADD she’d been issued. She was required to depart Vulcan again the day after tomorrow, but that should be more than enough time for at least a preliminary…
“Malvina,” called the receptionist, “Dr. Stevik is ready for you. Second floor, suite 220.”
“Thank you,” Malvina said, rose and headed for the lift.
Once Malvina found the suite, she pressed the door chime, and was admitted at once.
Malvina had read extensively on Dr. Stevik before seeking him out. He looked much as he did in his publicly available images. Olive complexion with the undertones of green. His silver hair was shaggier than many Vulcans seemed to favour, although the mathematically precise fringe over his high brows was more conventional. He was also surprisingly broad and imposing compared to many other Vulcans she’d seen. He rose from the desk in his consulting room. “Malvina, I presume? Please come in.”
Malvina smiled as she stepped in. “Thank you, Doctor.” She raised her head and, with a little hesitation, made the Vulcan traditional salute. “I’m honoured to finally meet you.”
“Indeed?” He returned the salute, before gesturing for her to sit down. “That you have formed any opinion of me is unexpected.”
“You came highly recommended by the Starfleet medical staff on Elas,” Malvina said earnestly.
“You must be the only remaining Vorta in the Alpha Quadrant,” Dr. Stevik remarked.
“Ah,” Malvina admitted. “Yes, I imagine I am.”
“The Starfleet referral was rather general,” Dr. Stevik said. “What, precisely, can I do for you?”
Malvina rubbed her hands together nervously. “You’re by all accounts one of the finest interspecies medical professionals in the Federation. As an alien even to the vaunted Federation…”
Stevik raised his hand. “Forgive me, Malvina. I understand it is customary among the Vorta to offer aggrandizements to others on first meeting. Please understand, however, that you do not need to ingratiate yourself to receive help here. The fact that Starfleet paroled you to come here tells me that you at least persuaded them of your intentions. Tell me what you seek and I will tell you what this institute can offer.”
Malvina blinked, then relaxed into her seat. “Forgive me, Doctor. The human staff at the Elas facility used an expression: old habits die hard. I am afraid there are quite a few things that I asked about that added up to a recommendation to you.”
“Such as?”
She said, “As a Vorta of the Dominion, I have been genetically and psychologically shaped to serve a purpose. And I have lost that purpose.”
“I presume you were on Elas as a prisoner of war?”
“I was,” Malvina admitted. “The largest POW facility in Federation space, I gather.”
“Why were you not repatriated at the end of the Dominion War?”
“Because,” Malvina swallowed a queasy feeling of shame. “I asked not to be. I am a defector and, effectively, a ward of Starfleet Intelligence.”
“Fascinating,” Stevik said quietly.
“I had what I think you would call a crisis of faith,” Malvina said, slowly, as if each word were a confession. “I have been subject to limitations, which I believed were ordained in service to a higher calling. But now I find I wish to test those limitations. Understand their implications for…what to do with my life.”
“Please list these limitations.”
“All Vorta clones have a termination implant in the brainstem. I should have used it when I was captured, but I…I couldn’t do it.”
Stevik’s eyebrow quirked. “I would contest the assertion that you ‘should have’ used it. On the contrary, it is most gratifying that you did not.”
Malvina couldn’t meet the doctor’s eyes for a moment, “I appreciate that, Doctor. But that implant is still there, and I find its mere presence unsettling.”
Stevik glanced up from where he was typing notes. “Are you struggling with thoughts of using it?”
“No,” Malvina said quickly. “No, not at all. But I can’t stop thinking that it might degrade and trigger spontaneously, or that the Dominion might find a way to activate it remotely. I’d like to explore removing or disabling it. And even with it gone, I’m not certain if my cloning has placed other constraints on my…my life expectancy.”
“Understood. Anything else?”
“Vorta senses of sight and taste are subdued compared to most humanoid species,” Malvina said, leaving arguably the pettiest issues for last. “We also lack a sense of aesthetics.”
“I see,” Stevik said after a moment. “You are part of a clone line?”
“I was. I am the fourth Malvina.”
“How long have you been active?”
“Two years,” Malvina said.
“Where did you become a POW?”
“When the Alliance conquered Tarlac. I was a shipping agent, managing the export of ketracel white. Timetables, routes and so on. Liaising between the Cardassian merchant fleet, Central Command and the Son’a.”
“I understood that Tarlac was the scene of some heavy ground fighting.”
“I believe so. I was in a ground vehicle convoy. The Alliance ground forces began shelling the route. Our vehicle was blown over.” She took a breath, “I don’t remember much, except that as soon as the shelling stopped, I got out of the vehicle. The driver was a Tarlac servant. They ran off. I had a concussion, and I think I was in shock.”
Malvina half-expected to be chided for the emotional digression. But Dr. Stevik simply said, “Quite understandable.”
“As far as I remember, I simply wandered around with my hands in the air until a Starfleet soldier found me.” Her voice trailed off in an irrational embarrassment. "I’ve been housed on Elas ever since. With about fourteen thousand others. Cardassians, mostly. A handful of Xepolites and Lissepians. A few Son’a, Jem’Hadar and Ellora, even, although the guards were careful to keep me away from the soldiers.”
“To prevent reprisal?”
“Yes,” Malvina said quietly. “I was actually almost…I think the term is ‘lynched,’ by some Cardassians after I started cooperating.”
“Were you injured?”
“Nothing serious,” Malvina said. “The Elasian guards were alert and more than a match for some angry Cardassians.
“Very good,” the doctor said, “Does Starfleet have a complete genetic sequence on the Vorta that they’re willing to share?”
“I have it here,” Malvina said, gesturing with her PADD. She typed in a command and a moment later, Dr. Stevik’s terminal chimed in response. “My own, and a few others.” She didn’t voice her suspicion that the others weren’t taken from live subjects. “I also received a standard medical workup from the Starfleet doctors. Here is the file.”
“Thank you, Malvina. I appreciate that recounting the details of your history must be stressful. From what you’ve told me, I believe a series of neuroimages is in order. In addition to an examination of your implant, we’ll try exposing you to a series of stimuli - music, scents, images - and charting the neural responses. We’ll also do an ophthalmological workup. How long is your parole?”
“I have to start back to Elas the day after tomorrow.”
“Then I doubt we’ll be able to do much for you while you are on Vulcan. However, we will continue to analyze your test results and forward any recommendations.”
“Thank you,” Malvina said, calm and professional. Not getting too excited or hopeful.
“Come into the examination room and my staff will get you a gown and robe…”
*
The battery of tests Dr. Stevik prescribed began almost immediately. After a high-resolution scan of her brain, a series of sensors were attached to her head and they began showing her pictures. At first, she was just asked to identify symbols, projected in smaller and smaller sizes until she couldn’t make them out. Then she was shown works of art from many different worlds, some realistic, including direct photographs of landscapes, others more abstract. A nurse also exposed her to canisters that released a whole range of smells, from the spicy and sweet to the sour and even the putrid. Musical works ranging from Bajoran monk chants to Algolian percussion to the natural vocalizations of Earth whales were played in her ears.
Despite having sat or laid down almost throughout, Malvina was tired at the end of it.
“We have to run an analysis on some of your results,” Dr. Stevik told her, back in the consulting room. “But it appears we can permanently disable your termination implant as an inpatient procedure.”
Malvina’s pulse quickened. She felt a little dizzy. “You can?”
“The implant is too integrated with the brain tissue to remove it entirely, but we can remove or disconnect key components, including the manual trigger.” He gestured at area of his own jaw and ear, to indicate the placement of the triggers. Malvina twitched at a psychosomatic itch in those areas. Stevik transmitted something to her PADD. “If you will just read, sign and submit the consent form, you can come back at 0900 tomorrow and we will admit you for the operation.”