Текст книги "Declassified "

Автор книги: David Mack

Соавторы: Marco Palmieri,Dayton Ward
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Текущая страница: 14 (всего у книги 26 страниц)

“More to the point, however—and this should matter to both of you—the circumstances of Commander Miller’s death are far from clear. Governor Ying offered to have the body returned to Starbase 47 in a colony transport, but I insisted that a team from Vanguard be allowed to recover Miller’s remains personally. Ying agreed to allow two more officers to visit the colony for that purpose, but she did so grudgingly. That makes me suspicious. If there’s more to Miller’s death than she’s saying, I want to know what it is.”

Nogura returned to his chair and continued, “The Endeavouris set to depart within the hour for its next assignment, which will take her to within shuttlecraft range of Kadru. She’ll be back in the vicinity in a week’s time. You two have that long to perform an autopsy, verify the cause of death, and complete an investigation into what transpired when the commander lost his life.

“But whatever you find, I expect you to persuade those colonists to evacuate before their sector is removed from Starfleet patrol routes. They need to understand the consequences of remaining on the planet: if they run into trouble, help may be too far away to make a difference.”

When Desai didn’t answer, Fisher cleared his throat and said, “We understand, Admiral. Any other instructions?”

Nogura shook his head and picked up a data slate awaiting his attention, which Fisher took as their cue to leave. He rose and started for the door, stopping when he realized Desai hadn’t budged. “Rana?”

The admiral looked up and frowned when he saw Desai staring at him. “Is there something else, Captain?”

“I was just wondering, Admiral,” she began in a quiet voice, “if it’s even remotely possible that the real reason Doctor Fisher and I were selected for this assignment is because we’re the two people on Vanguard closest to Diego Reyes, and you wanted us both off the station while you contemplated some ill-advised plan to get him back into custody—the nature of which might compel the filing of formal protests by the station’s chief medical officer and its senior representative of the Starfleet Judge Advocate General?

“That’s not possible, is it, sir?”

Rana, what in the world are you doing?Fisher’s eyes went to Nogura, who regarded Desai as if trying to decide, from among several options, which form of disciplinary action would be the most appropriate response to her insubordination.

Instead, the admiral leaned back in his chair. “In light of recent events, Captain, I’m going to do you a favor and forget the last thirty seconds.” To Fisher’s disbelief, Rana started to respond, but Nogura silenced her with a raised finger. “Don’t push your luck, Desai. Just be glad I’m in a forgiving mood. The Endeavourdeparts in forty minutes. I suggest you start packing.”

Far too slowly, Desai released her grip on the arms of her chair and stood. “Admiral,” she said by way of acknowledgment, then turned and vacated the office. She didn’t even look at Fisher as she passed him.

Fisher’s brow creased with worry as he followed her out, and his thoughts returned unbidden to dogwood trees and the void left behind by absent friends.

2

2259

Rechecking the settings on his medical tricorder, Zeke Fisher realized it was the third time in the last ten minutes he’d done so and abruptly snapped the device closed. The tension in the room, he decided, was contagious.

From his seat on the steps of the energizer stage, Fisher glanced around at the score of khaki-shirted engineers and blue-shirted medical personnel crowding the emergency transporter, and tried to take the room’s emotional temperature. Lots of fidgeting, very little talking, the frequent snaps and clicks of field equipment being adjusted—all spoke volumes about the group’s growing impatience. At any moment, Dauntlesswould drop out of warp and the “go” word would come down from the bridge, sending all twenty-two members of the crisis response team scrambling for the pads. The waiting had them all on edge.

Even the ship’s new XO wasn’t immune; she paced the deck in front of the transporter console, the other members of the landing party giving her a wide berth. Tall, blond, and athletic, Commander Hallie Gannon was an imposing physical presence, but still an unknown quantity to many of the crew, having joined Dauntlessjust nine weeks earlier when the ship’s extensive repairs had been completed at Starbase 7. Lean and long of limb, Gannon moved like a dancer.

“Something I can help you with, Doctor?”

The question made Fisher blink, and he sheepishly realized Gannon had caught him staring. She’d stopped pacing directly in front of him, her piercing green eyes daring him to say something unrelated to ship’s business. “Martial arts,” he ventured to say.

Gannon frowned. “Excuse me?”

“Your extracurricular fitness training. I’m guessing it was some form of martial arts. Am I right?”

Her eyes narrowed. “This is that thing the captain warned me about, isn’t it?”

“Oh, he warnedyou about me, did he?”

Gannon smirked. “Well, not you per se . . . just your odd little preoccupation.”

“Is that what he called it? My, my. I never realized the practice of guessing a crewperson’s Academy sport was something anyone would find particularly odd.”

“It is when you consider you could find out easily enough by checking my personnel file,” Gannon said. “Or, I dunno, just askingme.”

Fisher smiled. “Where’s the fun in that?”

Before Gannon could offer a rejoinder, the room’s starboard doors parted to admit the last member of the crisis response team. Everyone not already on their feet, including Fisher, rose as Chief Engineer Shey made a beeline for the XO. The Andorian held out a data slate.

“It’s about time,” Gannon said as she accepted the slate and started to scroll through it. “The ARA certainly cut it close.”

Shey’s antennae dipped toward Gannon in agreement. “At least they came through, though I’m not sure how much the new data will help.”

“We’ll take what we can get,” Gannon answered. She raised her voice to be heard by the rest of the team. “All right, people, listen up. We still don’t know what exactly we’re beaming into, but Commander Shey has our update from the Arkenite Resources Administration, so pay close attention. Commander?”

Shey’s antennae were taut as she addressed the room. “By now, the ARA’s most current schematics of the Azha-R7a asteroid mining complex have been uploaded to your tricorders.” She gave the team a moment to call up the files, but Fisher opted to peer over the shoulder of Soledad Valdez, one of the other doctors, who already had her tricorder open. “Please note they show that the mine has sixteen levels, not the twelve indicated in our library computer database,” Shey continued. “Also, the tunnels are spread over a much wider area than we were led to believe. You have a question, Mister Okano?”

Kunimitsu Okano, a structural engineering specialist, lowered his upraised hand. “How recent are these files?”

“The update is eighteen months old,” Shey answered.

“The schematics in our library computer were four years old,” Okano said over the murmurs rising among the other engineers. “If the complex expanded this much in thirty months, the actual number of levels and the area they cover must be even greater by now.”

“Correct,” said Gannon. “But as we’ve still had no success in contacting the colony directly since the initial distress call, this is the best we have to work with.”

Shey said, “We do know that in addition to mining topaline, copper, and zinc, the Arkenites have begun tapping deposits of uridium. These sections are marked in orange on your maps. If it becomes necessary to enter these areas, you’ll be required to rely on hand tools. Medical team, this means absolutely no use of laser scalpels or defibrillators.”

“Why not?” asked Doctor Valdez.

“Raw uridium is unstable,” Okano offered. “It reacts explosively if exposed to an electrical charge or a particle beam.”

“That’s right,” said Shey. “Injured personnel requiring treatment with powered equipment will have to be moved out of those areas before the procedures may be carried out. No exceptions.”

“The mission hasn’t changed,” Gannon said. “We still don’t know what precipitated the distress call, the exact nature of the emergency, which areas of the settlement may be affected by it, or even what the Arkenites’ needs may be. Supplemental crisis response teams are standing by in Emergency Transporter Rooms 2, 3, and 4, and will await deployment as needed. If it becomes necessary to transfer colonists to Dauntless,we’ll be following Evacuation Protocol Alpha, unless otherwise dictated by conditions within the mining complex. Hopefully we’ll get a clearer picture once Dauntlessis able to scan the asteroid.”

Gannon didn’t bother stating the obvious. The distress call from Azha-R7a had reached Dauntlessthirty-two hours ago. Because it had broken up in mid-transmission and all attempts to reestablish contact with the colony had failed, there was a very real possibility they would arrive too late to do any—

The alarm Klaxon wailed, derailing Fisher’s train of thought. “Red alert,”came the announcement over the comm system. “All hands to battle stations. This is not a drill.”

As if a switch had been thrown, the assembled CR team started streaming toward the exits. Fisher hesitated, watching as Gannon moved behind the transporter console and toggled its gooseneck intercom. “Gannon to bridge. What’s going on?”

“Ensign Kendrick here, Commander. We’ve come out of warp two thousand klicks from the asteroid, and there’s a Klingon battle cruiser keeping station directly above the settlement. It’s theChech’Iw.”

Fisher winced. Gorkon’s ship. Of all the Klingons, why him?

“Do we know the status of the Arkenites?”

“Is that Gannon?”came another voice over the comm. “What the hell is she waiting for, an engraved invitation? Tell her to get her ass up here, pronto.”

“Commander, the captain—”

“I heard him, Lloyd. I’m on my way. Gannon out.”

Fisher followed Gannon out the door. “Mind if I tag along?”

She spared him a glance without slowing her brisk march to the turbolift. “Don’t you need to prep sickbay?”

“My people know the drill,” Fisher said as they entered the lift. He held up his hand to block Doctor Valdez, who ran to catch up before the doors closed. “Nonstop to the bridge, Soledad. Take the next one.” As the doors hissed shut, Gannon called out their destination to the lift’s voice interface. Fisher felt the elevator car rotate on its vertical axis and then glide forward. “Besides,” the doctor continued, “sickbay was already on high alert for the rescue mission. There’s little else to do unless we start getting wounded.”

Gannon let out a long breath. “Let’s hope your department has a slow day.”

“Amen to that, Commander,” Fisher said. The lift’s forward motion slowed to a stop, then it started to ascend.

“This’ll be the first time the captain’s faced Gorkon since Xarant,” Gannon said.

Fisher kept his eyes facing the doors. “That’s true,” he said neutrally, uncomfortably certain he knew where Gannon was headed with this. The engagement at Xarant five months ago had torn up Dauntlesspretty badly, and cost the lives of eighteen members of the crew, including Gannon’s predecessor, Commander Rajiv Mehta. For all the survivors, memories of Xarant were still raw, but especially so for Dauntless’s captain.

“Is he past it, do you think?” Gannon asked.

Fisher didn’t offer an answer, and to his relief, the commander didn’t wait for one when the lift stopped again and opened onto the bridge. Gannon stepped out ahead of him and headed straight for the command well. Fisher hung back, stopping at the portside aft railing. At starboard aft stood Lieutenant Terence Sadler, ship’s chief of security, whose intense blue-gray eyes regarded the doctor’s presence on the bridge with only slight disapproval before he turned his attention back to the situation at hand.

Privileges of seniority, Terry,Fisher thought. That, and being the captain’s close personal friend for close to fifteen years.

In the center of the bridge, Captain Diego Reyes leaned forward in the command chair, his gaze fixed on the viewscreen where the dark, vaguely liver-shaped rock of Azha-R7a was partially eclipsed by the distinctive droop-winged silhouette of a Klingon warship. “Any change in their energy readings?” Reyes asked.

At sciences, Anya Brzezinski stared into the hooded viewer that fed her sensor telemetry. “No spikes. Weapons remain cold. Shields are still down.” She turned to face the captain. “Sir, they may not know we’re here.”

“They know,” Reyes said with certainty. “We came in too hard and fast for them to miss our entrance.” He looked up at Gannon, who stood just to the right of the center seat. “Nice of you to join us, Commander.”

“Sorry for the delay, sir,” Gannon said. “It won’t happen again.”

“See that it doesn’t,” Reyes advised her. “When I call for battle stations, I expect my XO’s first response to be to head for the bridge, not second-guess the alert. Are we clear?”

Ouch. That bad already, Diego?

“Aye, sir,” Gannon answered, her pale cheeks flushing against the public rebuke. “Readings from the colony?” she called out to Brzezinski.

“Evidence of a recent explosion in one of the subsurface sectors,” the science officer said. “A number of the aboveground structures have been compromised.”

“Life signs?”

“I’m reading approximately seven hundred humanoids, mostly Arkenites. Eighty-five of them are Klingons.”

“An occupation force,” Sadler said.

“They damn well aren’t there for the coffee,” Reyes agreed. “Talk to me, Mister Kendrick.”

Seated to Fisher’s right, Lloyd Kendrick swiveled away from his console while making an adjustment to his earpiece. “No response from the colony to our hails, Captain. I’m unable to pick up any internal comm traffic. The Chech’Iwis dark to us as well.”

Reyes pushed out of his chair and crossed his arms as he stood watching the Klingon ship. “Tactical assessment, Lieutenant Sadler?” he said over his shoulder.

“We collected considerable intel on the D7-class battle cruiser during our last encounter with the Chech’Iw,sir,” Sadler said confidently, his Oxford enunciation always making an interesting contrast to the unique lilt of Reyes’s own voice, which was at times tinged with both Castellano and a subtle Texas twang. “Commander Shey and I put that knowledge to good use during the repairs and in subsequent combat drills. There’s no doubt in my mind that we have the advantage.”

“Captain, the Klingons learn from experience too,” Gannon said. “You can be certain General Gorkon and his crew have an equally improved understanding of how to fight a Pyotr Velikiy–class starship. And given Dauntless’s history with the Chech’Iw,provoking a hasty resumption of hostilities may be exactly what Gorkon—”

“You don’t get to lecture me on this ship’s history with Gorkon, Commander,” Reyes said coldly. “This crew has shed blood every time we’ve tangled with him, and I don’t recall youbeing there on any of those occasions.”

Sadler frowned. Kendrick and Brzezinski looked toward Reyes in surprise. So it isn’t just me,Fisher thought.

“Sir,” Gannon said, “with all due respect, this sort of situation is exactly why Starfleet Command recommended me for this assignment. My specialized training in Klingon culture—”

“—was part of a program specifically designed to produce officers who could advise starship captains during Klingon encounters,” Reyes finished for her. “All right, Gannon. What’s your recommendation?”

“Talk to them.”

Reyes stared at her. “I must have misheard you, Commander. Could you repeat that? For a second it sounded as if you suggested I open a dialogue with the ship that attacked a Federation colony.”

Instead of rising to the bait, Gannon called out, “Lieutenant Commander Brzezinski, is there any evidence to suggest the damage to the settlement was the result of Klingon ordnance?”

Brzezinski consulted her instruments before reporting, “Negative. Scans reveal no Klingon weapons signatures of any kind.”

“Is the Chech’Iwstill maintaining a nonaggressive posture?”

“Affirmative.”

Gannon turned back to Reyes. “Like you said, sir, the Klingons know we’re here. And that has to mean they know what we’re picking up on our scanners. They’re counting on this crew’s hostility toward them, especially after our . . . yourlast engagement, to make us rush to judgment. So, yes, Captain, I’m recommending we challenge the Klingons to explain their presence in Federation territory before we start shooting each other.”

Reyes’s eyes narrowed. He held her gaze while he spoke. “Ensign Jordan, are we maintaining a target lock on the Chech’Iw?”

“Aye, sir,” said the helmsman. “All banks locked on.”

“Arm photon torpedoes and target their command pod.” After Jordan acknowledged the order, Reyes said, “All right, Gannon. We’ll try it your way. But make no mistake. If Gorkon so much as twitches, I’m gonna blow him straight back to Qo’noS.”

“Mister Kendrick,” Gannon said. “Hail the Klingons. Send this message: I.K.S. Chech’Iw,this is the U.S.S. Dauntless.We are responding to a Federation distress call. You are instructed to withdraw all personnel from Azha-R7a and leave the area immediately.”

Kendrick tapped his board for several seconds, then lifted a hand to his earpiece. “Message received. They’re opening a channel.”

Fisher let out a long breath. He hadn’t even realized he’d been holding it.

“On screen,” Reyes said as he returned to the center seat.

As the view of the Chech’Iwdissolved into a shot of its bridge, it surprised Fisher to see Gorkon was not the man sitting in its command chair. Whereas Gorkon was tall and lean and kept his upper lip shorn above an otherwise full beard, the robust Klingon facing the Dauntlessbridge crew sported a long goatee braided with a silver chain. “Captain Reyes. How unexpected. It seems not so long ago we watched your vessel limp away like a woundedHa’DIbaH.”

“I’m surprised you noticed through all the charged plasma you were bleeding after we perforated your starboard nacelle, Mazhtog,” Reyes said, and Fisher recognized the name as belonging to Gorkon’s executive. “But as nice as it is to reminisce, I don’t have time to waste on pissants. I want to speak to your boss.”

Mazhtog bared his teeth, and Fisher wondered how the translators had handled the insult. “General Gorkon is unavailable, Earther. And you will show proper respect to a soldier of the Empire.”

“Fine,” Reyes said. “The day I meet a Klingon worthy of the title, I’ll be sure to salute him. Until then, you’re trespassing in Federation territory and interfering with a rescue operation. You’ve got fifteen minutes to pull your people out of our colony and back the hell off. Failure to comply will be considered a hostile act and met with force.”

Mazhtog’s rictus widened into a grin. “So like a human. So arrogant.”He leaned forward, his face growing larger on the screen. “You come here prepared to attack, blind to the obvious fact that the crisis on the Arkenites’ asteroid is already under control; thatDauntless ’s assistance, solate in coming, is no longer required; and that it isyou who are trespassing here. And you dare to threaten us!”

Reyes stood up. “So that’s what this is? A land grab for your territory-hungry chancellor? Is Gorkon really stupid enough to believe I’m just going to sit back while he carries out the illegal seizure of a Federation settlement and the capture of its citizens?”

Mazhtog slowly leaned back into his chair, nodding to someone offscreen before turning his jagged smile back to Reyes. “You still fail to grasp what has happened here, Earther. We have stolen nothing. These Arkenites have given their asteroid and their allegiance to the Klingon Empire of their own free will.”

“Captain,” Brzezinski said, “the Chech’Iw’s tactical systems are coming on line! Shields up, weapons arming—”

“And we are prepared to defend them.”

3

2268

“I don’t know what went wrong,”Captain Hallie Gannon said from her log. “If I did, maybe I could have fixed it. But they aren’t even interested in talking anymore. They’ve denied permission to let anyone beam down to Kadru, and they’ve declined Commodore Reyes’s invitation to discuss their issues aboard Vanguard. Bottom line: the New Anglese told us to take a hike, and then they turned their backs to us.

“The worst thing is, there isn’t a damn thing I can do about it. Every decision they’ve made is totally within their rights. It’s their planet. They opted to go independent, and if they want as little contact with Starfleet as possible without even explaining why, we just have to live with it.”

“Computer, pause playback,” Desai ordered, making a notation on her data slate. She set down her stylus and rubbed her weary eyes, thinking she really should have allowed herself more than six hours of sleep last night.

She had wasted little time getting to work after she and Fisher boarded the Endeavour.First Officer Katherine Stano, a youthful lieutenant commander, met them as they came through the airlock, just seconds before the shipwide command came down from the bridge to seal all external hatches in final preparation for the vessel’s departure. Stano went through the standard formalities of welcoming them aboard, reviewing the facilities and services available to them during the two-day voyage to the Kadru system, and then proceeded to escort them to their individual quarters on Deck 7 of the Constitution-class starship.

Desai didn’t even bother to unpack. She settled immediately at the cabin’s workstation, accessed the ship’s secure network, and found her mission file waiting in her temporary database. She spent most of the next thirty hours immersed in reports on Kadru, the colony, and its population; Starfleet Command’s recommendation to redraw its patrol routes in the Taurus Reach; a transcript of the Federation Council’s deliberation of the matter as well as the resolution to uproot the colonies named in Command’s recommendation; historical precedents for colonial relocation; recordings of Miller’s communications with Governor Ying; and the relevant logs of the starship that, three years ago, had assisted in establishing the New Anglesey colony: the U.S.S. Bombay.

Her cabin’s buzzer sounded. She called out, “Come in,” and Fisher entered carrying an oversized tray with several covered plates, a teapot, and a small vase of flowers.

“What’s this?” Desai asked.

“Afternoon tea,” Fisher answered, as if the question surprised him. He set the tray down on top of her desk, and she barely got her data cards out from under it in time.

“Not that I don’t appreciate the gesture, Fish, but I’m really too busy to—”

“Who said it was for you?”

She tilted her head to one side. “Right. What are you doing here, then?”

“I was temporarily evicted from my quarters,” Fisher said, starting to uncover the plates. “Glitch in the climate control. I’ve got fog. Mm, these look good.” On one plate were stacks of small sandwiches: some salmon, some cucumber; on another, scones with strawberry jam and clotted cream.

“Fog?” Desai asked, trying to ignore the fact that her mouth was suddenly watering.

“Yeah, can you believe it? The chief engineer said half the compartments in my corridor are affected. They just need a couple of hours to sort it out.”

Hours. Wonderful.“Fish, I’ve got a ton of prep I need to finish—”

“So do it. You won’t even know I’m here,” he said, pushing the tray deeper into her workspace. “Does that slate need to be there?”

Sighing, Desai moved the device safely out of the way.

Fisher took the lid off the teapot, releasing a cloud of aromatic steam. He leaned into it, breathing deeply. “Ahh . . . Darjeeling. It’s too bad you’re so busy, this is almost more than I can—”

“Shut up and pour me a cup, already.”

The doctor smiled. “Happy to. Mugs?”

“Behind you.”

“Help yourself to a sandwich or three,” Fisher said as he went to retrieve a pair of mugs from a shelf in the back wall. While he poured, Desai filled plates for both of them.

“Where’d you get all this?” Desai asked. “And don’t tell me it came from a food slot.”

Fisher pulled the cabin’s lounge chair closer to the desk. “While you’ve been barricaded in here, I’ve been making friends. Happened to mention to a nice fellow in the galley how much I used to enjoy afternoon tea and . . . voilà!” With a playful flourish, Zeke produced a shot glass candle from somewhere, gave the bottom a sharp tap to ignite it, and set it between them.

Desai smiled in spite of herself. “Nice touch.”

“My wife always thought so,” Fisher said as he sat down.

“Afternoon tea was a tradition for you two?” Desai brought her mug to her lips, inhaling the steam through her nose before sipping. It was exquisite.

Fisher smiled and picked up a sandwich. “You could call it a tradition, I suppose. It’s what I always did when I needed to apologize for something.”

Desai laughed, then stopped as she realized the subtext of Fisher’s answer. “Wait. You think you need to apologize to me?”

“Do I?” he asked.

She set down her mug and sighed. “If I’ve given you reason to wonder, Zeke, maybe I’m the one who ought to apologize. I know I’ve been—”

“Rana, stop,” Fisher said. “Don’t you dare say another word. I didn’t mean to guilt you into unburdening yourself. I just wanted to spend some time with a friend I’ve seen far too little of the last few months. I won’t pretend to understand what you’re going through right now. This thing with Diego . . .” He paused and then continued with a chuckle, “Hell, I’ll just say it: anydamn thing with Diego is enough to drive a person crazy, even someone who’s known him as long as I have.”

Desai had the absurd impulse to laugh even as she wiped at the tears forming in her eyes. Fisher’s kind brown face, all crow’s feet and silver whiskers, radiated a tenderness that was unconditional and free of judgment.

“But if the time comes when you need a friend to lean on, you know I’ll be here for you, right?”

She reached out and placed her hand atop his. “Right.” Her voice sounded hoarse in her ears. “Thank you, Fish.”

He waved away her gratitude. “Drink your tea. You’ll feel better.”

Desai arched a black eyebrow at him over the brim of her mug. “There’s no fog in your quarters, is there?”

“I’m invoking the Seventh Guarantee.”

“That’s what I thought.”

They ate in companionable silence for a while, then started swapping memories of Aole. Zeke had several funny stories to relate, as did Desai, and for the next hour the two kept each other laughing to the point of breathlessness.

“Well,” Fisher said at last, rising to his feet. “I know you have work to do, so I’m just gonna gather up these things and clear out.” Licking the tips of his thumb and forefinger, Fisher snuffed out the candle.

“This was nice, Zeke,” Desai said sincerely. “I didn’t realize just how much I needed the break. Thank you.”

Fisher finished loading up the tray and lifted it off her desk. “It was my pleasure. So I guess I’ll see you tonight?”

“Tonight?”

Fisher froze in place. “I forgot to mention Captain Khatami’s dinner invitation, didn’t I?” At the look she gave him, he hurriedly added, “It’s just a small thing with the captain and a few of her officers.”

“You’re telling me this now?” She cast an exasperated glance at the time displayed on her slate. “It’s sixteen-thirty! When are we expected?”

“Nineteen hundred, in the captain’s mess.”

“And where’s the captain’s– Wait, never mind. I’ll look it up. Get out of here now so I can get some work done before I have to start getting ready.”

“I’m gone.”

As Fisher started for the door, Desai took up her slate and found where she had left off. “Computer, resume playback.”

“What saddens me most is the way Mei-Hua threw it all away, as if the friendship we’d built over the last six months meant noth—”

A crash startled Desai, and she spun around to see Fisher struggling to keep his grip on the tray. A couple of plates had toppled to the deck. She rushed to his side, reaching to steady him. “Zeke, are you okay? What happened?”

“I’m fine, it’s just . . . Is that Hallie?”

Oh, God, I forgot he knew Captain Gannon! What was I thinking?“Computer, pause playback! Zeke, sit down.” She tried to relieve him of the tray, but he refused to let go of it.

“Rana, please. I’m okay,” he assured her. “She’s been on my mind lately, and it just caught me off guard to hear her voice all of a sudden. Was that an old log entry from the mission file?”

Desai nodded, recovering the fallen plates and setting them gently back onto the tray. “Gannon’s ship helped set up the colony on Kadru.”

“Is that a fact? How about that. . . .”

“I can authorize your access, if you’d like to—”

“No, that’s okay,” Fisher said. “I appreciate the offer, but . . . I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

Desai frowned. What in the world doesthat mean?“Zeke, are you sure you’re okay?”

“Who’s the doctor here?” Fisher asked. “I’ll just be on my way. Sorry I startled you. See you at nineteen?”

Desai nodded. “Nineteen.”

She watched him go, and as he did, it occurred to Desai that Zeke’s life was all about looking after people. And not just his patients; she had long suspected he had delayed his overdue and well-deserved retirement just so he could be there for Diego, and when that was no longer possible, he had honored the obligation he’d felt he owed his oldest friend by staying on to look after the woman Diego loved.

But who looked after Fisher?

“To absent friends,” said Atish Khatami as she raised her water glass. The other five officers at the table, their own small glasses filled with a ruby port, mirrored the captain’s gesture as they echoed her toast. The sweet after-dinner wine proved to be a delightful follow-up to the baked pears Endeavour’s master chef served up for dessert, the hot caramelized fruit steaming from crystal bowls. Desai found it easier to lose herself in the dish than to take part in the current topic of conversation.

The captain’s mess was impressive. Desai had expected to dine in a repurposed briefing room or something similar. This was nothing so austere, with soft recessed lighting, warm colors, real wooden furniture, and art on the walls. Apparently every Constitution-class starship had a small percentage of discretionary space, subject to the preferences of the commanding officer. Khatami’s immediate predecessor, the late Captain Zhao Sheng—whose portrait hung on the wall behind Khatami next to that of Endeavour’s first commander, Captain Mary-Anne Rice—had ripped out the tennis court that had been here when he first took command and replaced it with one for racquetball. In the process, Zhao had converted the leftover space into a formal dining room. Bersh glov Mog, Khatami’s Tellarite chief engineer, claimed to have it on good authority that at least one of Endeavour’s sister ships had a bowling alley, but CMO Anthony Leone refused to believe it.