At 1600 the next day Captain Janeway and Commander Chakotay both met with the doctor in sickbay. For all her professional demeanor, the Captain somehow felt that she was with a teacher at a parent conference to discuss a child’s behavior.
Chakotay didn’t comment that he felt exactly the same way.
“Report, Doctor.” Janeway was curious. “How did Sara do?”
“Surprisingly well would be an understatement.” The hologram never ceased to be sarcastic. “I administered all of the standard tests, as well as some that were not so standard. Sara scored perfectly, or as near to such as could be expected, on every one. She passed everything with flying colors. Not only is she light-years ahead of any child her own age, she could probably face the entrance exams for Starfleet Acdemy tomorrow and do well on those. She’s a remarkably intellegent little girl.”
“She’s not a little girl,” Chakotay said, before he stopped himself.
“Indeed.” The doctor looked at them both seriously. “I had to remind myself several times that she is indeed a human teenager, though she shows none of the signs of such.”
“Explain.” Chakotay prompted.
“Sara shows no development along the physical lines of normal human definitions, though I should explain that it’s nothing to worry about.” the doctor explained. “She has no breasts, and she hasn’t yet had her menstrual cycle, which, as I said, isn’t anything to worry about. She could simply be, as they say, a ‘late bloomer’. Though her estrogen levels are below the norm, that isn’t what concerns me the most.”
“Which is…” Janeway fought the urge to shake him into telling them everything.
“I did a full physcial, as you requested. She has a photographic memory. It ties in with her Intellegence Quotient -- which I can’t even begin to guess at.”
“What?” Chakotay broke in.
“How is that possible?” Janeway thought EMH’s were capable of everything.
“Captain, Commander – as you probably know, the brain has two halves.” The image of a human brain popped onto the monitor screen. “The left side of the brain controls the right-side functions of the body, likewise for the right side controllling the left. Sara’s neurotransmitters are firing at such a rate across the bridge of the two halves that both of the halves are functioning as one brain.”
“So it’s not just intellegence that we’re talking about.” Janeway commented.
“Indeed. You’re looking at the brain of a girl who could, quite literally, do anything she put her mind to and be successful at it, no pun intended. She not only has the power to think of the equations for almost any task, but the ability to create them resourcefully.”
Both senior officers exchanged a look. Sara was…a genius? The scrawny – well, she wasn’t that, but she wasn’t exactly perfectly porportioned either – girl that was barely ready to turn 15, never mind she looked 10? The Captain cleared her throat.
“And thse concerns you have?” Could things get any worse?
“Forgive me, Captain. As I was saying, I did a full physical.” The 3-dimension image of Sara’s body popped on to the screen, rotating and being manipulated from upright to prone. Indicators of blue were in three spots: Sara’s left ribs, left ankle and left wrist. “These indicators mark the spots where I found evidence of old injuries, healed quite nicely if I do say so. However…” the doctor pushed a button, and the image was all but covered in red. “These are also injuries. Much older, much deeper, and not so nicely healed.”
“What’s the difference?” Chakotay asked.
“These,” the doctor pointed to the blue, “are simple fractures. Clean breaks of the bone. However,” he pointed to the red, “these are green stick fractures.”
“Good god,” Janeway blurted. She’d never seen so many fractures in her life, not for someone so young. “What happened to her?”
“That is the question I have yet to ask.” The doctor told them both. “From my estimate, some of these breaks occurred at a much younger age – starting as early as five or six years. Captain, I’m sorry to tell you this, but…”
“She was abused,” the words came out of Janeway’s mouth before she could stop them.
“Abused? How can you be sure of that?” Chakotay asked them both.
“Green stick fractures are caused by persistent turning,” Janeway told him. “As far as her ribs…”
“The ribs were the least of her worries.” The EMH cut her off for the umpteeth time. “Her arms, legs, ankles, and wrists have been broken at least twice each; shoulders have been popped out and reset, popped out again…collarbones crushed and rebuilt…it’s a miracle her spine is intact. Even her jaw has sustained injuries.”
“That’s quite a repetoire.”
“That’s not the half of it.” The doctor was grim. “I had to examine her torso. She’s got enough scar tissue to make five people unhappy, let alone a girl her size. Even if she only exhibited broken bones, I wouldn’t be able to make a conclusion of physical abuse sometime during her life. But this is the definate corroboration. She couldn’t have possibly inflicted this much damage on herself; most of them are concentrated on her back, from her buttocks to her shoulders. She does have others, on her arms and on her legs, but there was only one that matched the depth of the ones on her back. There are some in her scalp and on the back of her neck, but they’re very minor. No, the evidence is just too conclusive, I’m afraid. She shows an ongoing cycle of abuse.”
“Have you actually taken a look at them?” Janeway was curious. The doctor nodded, and from the look on his face she didn’t want to press him for any details.
“With this many injuries,” Chakotay swallowed, his dark eyes alternating between nausea and anger, “why didn’t anyone catch on to this sooner?”
“Someone would have had to examine her first,” the doctor replied.
“But still…”
“Commander,” the EMH was serious, “sometimes one longs for the days when bones weren’t able to be regenerated in a few hours.”
“She would have told someone,” he insisted.
“I’ve studied texts on this issue, before calling you here. It occurred in the 20th century, though after the third world war everyone was too preoccupied with survival to concern themselves with hurting children. What you have to understand is that it is often kept a secret. Either by threats or coercion, a child instinctively knows that he or she must not ever, ever tell of what’s happened. I believe that that is the case here.”
Chakotay stood silently. Janeway stroked her chin, arms folded. “Is there anything else that you learned?”
“In addition to the photographic memory, Sara has enhanced hand-eye coordination. She is indeed a telepath, an empath, and a telekinetic girl, all rolled into one. Most of the traits come in the form of one or the other, she has all three. A fascinating and unusual occurance, might I add. The scans indicated that she may be prone to periods of depression, but given what I found I’m not very surprised. She shows no inclination toward violence, probably also given to a history of abuse. Her psychological tests were surprisingly normal, another miracle of miracles.”
“For what reason?”
“Captain, you – or I for that matter – could have no idea how hard it is to be a telepath, let alone one at her age. As it is Betazoid telepathic abilities develop during adolesence, and from what Kes tells me of her people, their thoughts are so orderly and well minded because of the peaceful nature of the people it presents no problem. The fact of being a telepath with the cacophony of sounds and thoughts running through one’s head uninhibited is almost enough to drive a person to madness.”
“The chaos.” Chakotay confirmed.
“That’s right.” The doctor agreed. “Switch on a shipwide channel somtime in your ready room, or your quarters. Listen to the overlaid conversation of all communiques at once that flow through this ship individually. One, or perhaps two, isn’t anything to cause distress, but ten or fifteen is almost unbearable, and I’m sure that she’s had to deal with much more than that. She has no ‘off’ switch to stop it.”
Janeway hadn’t considered that. “What I’m trying to say, Captain,” the doctor made his point, “Is that either someone else in her family was telepathic, and helped her to deal with this, or she had an outside influence of some sort.”
“Outside influence? You mean, as in special schooling?”
“Negative.” The doctor shook his head. “And if she has, she doesn’t remember it.”
“So the theory stands that someone taught her how to silence the cacophony of chaos.” Janeway was quizzical.
“That’s correct.” The doctor’s eyebrows furrowed.
“The main question is now, what do we do with her?” Chakotay cut through to the point.
“We can’t just drop her off at the nearest starbase.” Janeway agreed regretfully. “Doctor, your opinion?”
Chakotay answered before him.“Captain, we’re talking about a girl who isn’t a girl. A child who isn’t a child. With all due respect, my best advice would be to…fit her in normally, along with the rest of the Maquis.”
“At fourteen?” Janeway protested. “Commander, I realize that you were admitted to the Academy at an early age, but Starfleet still does not send youngsters less than 17 years of age out on deep space missions! Not unless they have one officer per trainee, and even then the probability of success is rare. Not to mention with her psychological problems…”
“Sara shows a history of an abusive childhood,” the doctor told them. “By most reports, if she fits a profile, she’ll tend towards shyness, fear of crowds, and most likely a fear of attachment for being hurt. Facing down death won’t cause her any alarm whatsoever, probably because she’s been exposed to it.”
“She’s also no stranger to hard work,” Chakotay put in. “Captain, Sara worked with every member of my Maquis crew with no problems, save for Seska who isn’t the easiest to get along with. I don’t know of anyone that had a problem with her – her telepathy, yes. Her personally, no.”
“Who took care of her?” Janeway asked him curiously.
“Sara takes care of herself. The doctor’s right, there’s no other option but to integrate her just like anyone else. Don’t treat her differently. Don’t make her a spectacle because she’s a telepath. She doesn’t mind being called upon and voicing her observations as well as her opinions on them, but she hates being singled out.”
“And what of her background, Chakotay? Do you want to spend the next 75 years possibly waiting for her to explode?” Janeway was indignant.
“She’s not a lost cause.” The doctor interjected. “Yes, she’s had a traumatic childhood from the looks of all the scans, but she’s not a ticking time bomb. The best thing you could do for her would be to…draw her out. Treat her normally. Sadly enough her childhood’s all but over if it isn’t already.”
“What about her memory?” Chakotay asked the question on everyone’s mind.
“Traumatic amnesia.” The doctor was prompt and firm. “She suffered something along the way that made her block out every memory of her past. What did she remember when you found her?”
“Her name, and her birthday. That’s about it.”
“The fact that she remembered that much is encouraging. Of course, there’s no way to pinpoint how long she was actually on her own before becoming part of your crew. This sort of a response is often used as a survival method – something to block out the pain to be able to concentrate on the present. Unfortunately, there’s nothing we can do. Her brain scans show that the memories are there, but it’s as if they’re locked behind a door that she can’t open. The only advice I can tell you is that when the time is right, it’ll open itself. The trouble will come when it does – because likely as not she won’t have a choice as to the time, the place, or the amount. But we can deal with that when it happens. You can’t keep her locked in the brig or confined to quarters waiting for it to happen. If we had a counselor on board, it would be easier. Until such time as she does remember, she’s as healthy as she can be, for a girl that’s been what she’s been through.”
“Good point.” Janeway responded. “Where is she now?”
“Kes took her to the mess hall for an early dinner. I told her to make sure she doesn’t ingest Mr. Neelix’s food too quickly. Her stomach still isn’t used to food again. I only hope he doesn’t get creative.”
“Fine. Thank you for your time, doctor.” Janeway dismissed him, and turned to Chakotay.
“What are you going to do?” Chakotay asked her as they headed out. “Do you want to see…”
“No.” She answered, probably a little too forcefully. “Let’s wait a while – let her get as adjusted as she possibly can under the circumstances. Draw up a duty schedule for her and I’ll see what I can do about approving it. For that matter, where to we put her?”
“We can discuss that at tomorrow’s meeting,” Chakotay offered, as a way of getting out of the conversation. He was no telepath, but he didn’t suspect things would be easy for Sara. “What’ll you do in the meantime?”
“Dig a hole in a database,” she responded firmly, heading in the opposite direction.
************
B’Elanna stormed the corridors of Voyager. As the ship’s new Chief Engineer, her duties were many, varied and exhausting, not the least of which was trying to get points past a crew trained to walk, eat, sleep and breathe protocol. Half of them had never been on deep-space missions. Trained as the Maquis were on doing something with nothing, the idea still came as a shock to StarFleet personnel when they were expected to work with it.
She was going so fast that she didn’t notice Chakotay coming towards her until she’d slammed into him. “I was just coming to find you.” B’Elanna said somewhat breathlessly, his hand gripping her upper arm to keep her from flopping over like a fish out of water. “You off duty?”
“As a matter of fact, I am. Problem?” Chakotay steered her into the turbolift.
“Slightly. I need Tommy.”
Chakotay considered that for a moment. “Why am I not surprised?”
“Chakotay, I’m serious.” B’Elanna wasn’t about to be put off. He had to give her that, she knew exactly what was necessary and set about obtaining it whenever possible. “Her size isn’t a hinderance, it’s an asset. No one can crawl through Jeffries Tubes like she can. No one else has the small fingers that are needed for rewiring a console.”
“And how do you think your staff will take to having a child among them?” Chakotay was reasonable. “They’ve only had time to get used to you.”
“If I tell them to like it, they’ll like it.”
“Sure,” he snorted. “Tell that to the Captain and see how far you get.”
“Dammit, I’m not joking!” Her temper was about to be riled. She calmed down fast enough when she realized that Chakotay, much as he was her friend, was also the highest-ranking stopping point before the woman she had no care to talk to -- for the most part. “You know how much she knows. I know how much she knows. Give her a chance to prove it.”
“She doesn’t need to prove anything.”
“No, but I need her. And so does this ship.”
He sighed, knowing that she was right and not having the energy to fight about it. “We’ll talk about it tomorrow at the morning meeting.”
