Текст книги "The Best and the Brightest"

Автор книги: Susan Wright

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Текущая страница: 11 (всего у книги 14 страниц)

Sweat was pouring off him when he finally maneuvered the container through the corridors to the air lock bay in front of the Dilithium Node. Positioning the container so the opening faced the air lock, he took some time examining the locking system. No use in getting this far, only to alert Meesa’s master that his goods were being tampered with. Reoh knew he was leaving a trail a parsec wide, but he wasn’t expecting to get away with this.

“I’m hot,” Meesa said plaintively through the communicator.

“I’m opening the door now,” he replied.

After inserting a stasis bar into the sensor padd, Reoh cycled open the lock and slid back half the side of the container. “Meesa?” he called, peering in.

A face peeked out, but it wasn’t Meesa. A naked green woman, and another, shifted and blinked in the sudden light. Reoh squinted, looking deeper inside. “Meesa?”

“I’m here!” her breathy voice responded.

“Wait there,” Reoh told the startled, cringing women. He quickly opened his air lock and grabbed a blanket, trying to shield the bay from the corridor. “Hurry, get inside!” he ordered.

They hesitated for a moment, then several at once surged forward. Reoh stared and tried not to stare as one naked Orion animal‑woman after another emerged from the container and scurried into his shuttle. Meesa was one of the last ones, and he wrapped the blanket around her, frantically ushering them into his shuttle.

“Meesa, how long were you in that box?”

“Not so long. Master went to get the ship.”

Reoh cycled closed the air lock, figuring that eliminated the option of waiting for border security to show up. Meesa’s master could be looking for that container right now, and the Pa’a weren’t the type to let him get in their way.

He fought his way to the front and the controls, feeling heady already from the scent of so many Orion women in the tight quarters. There were so many green arms and legs crammed inside the Dilithium Nodethat he wondered how they had all fit into the container. This had suddenly turned from a minor infraction into a full‑scale smuggling operation in its own right. He just hoped he got to Commander Keethzarn before anyone else did.

Getting away from Station 14 was no problem. Reoh was supposed to leave that day anyway; he simply moved up his departure time and was cleared by the border computer. The Starfleet officers were on drudge duty, too, and they let him through without a hassle. They probably figured he wanted a few more hours R&R on Starbase 3.

Reoh was really sweating the short communications exchange with the border patrol. There was no way he could explain the Orion animal‑women without Commander Keethzarn to back him. He made Meesa sit in the auxiliary control seat to keep an eye on the other women crouched down on the floor, out of the line of sight. He couldn’t even look back there–Meesa was bad enough, with her bare shoulders exposed by the blanket. The others were completely naked.

By the time they got two sectors away from the Beltos system, he finally began to breathe easier, figuring he was home free. Maybe he wouldn’t be in too much trouble–

Then he received a hail. It was the Belle Star, Captain Jord’s transport ship.

Puzzled, Reoh opened the channel, voice‑only, just to be safe. “Captain Jord?”

“Thank you, Ensign Nev,” Jord said, sounding very pleased. “If you will please dock at my aft portal, I will take back my cargo. Now that you’ve gotten it through the border for me.”

“Pardon me?” he croaked.

Meesa was cowering down, looking up at the speakers from which Jord’s voice echoed down. “Master?” she asked.

Reoh glanced back at the other women. “Is Captain Jord your master?”

“Why not ask me?” Jord said over the speaker. “I arranged this whole transport, packed the girls up for you and everything.”

Reoh gave in to the inevitable and activated the viewscreen. Captain Jord was beaming at him, which was somehow worse than her scowl.

“What makes you think I’ll hand these women over to you?” he asked.

“Because it’s either that, or we disintegrate the shuttle.” Jord bared her teeth. “Behave yourself and you’ll be picked up in a few days, your shuttle adrift. Meanwhile I’ll be far from here, living the high life on the price I can get for my cargo.”

“They’re not cargo. They’re women–” Reoh protested.

“I’m not going to listen to another speech out of you, Starfleet. You have three seconds to drop shields so I can get a tractor‑lock on you, or I’m cutting my losses and getting out of here.” She glanced at the chrono. “One, two–”

“Okay! Don’t shoot,” Reoh protested. Slowly he dropped shields. The shuttle lurched as the tractor took hold.

As the maw of the Belle Star’sportal loomed closer, he turned reproachfully to Meesa. “Did you know about this?”

The confusion, guilt, and utter innocence in her eyes reassured him that she knew something, but not the complexities of her master’s game.

“It’s all right,” he told her, patting her arm through the blanket.

But he knew it was far from all right. He had just smuggled a load of Orion animal women off Beltos Station 14, and delivered them to a Pa’a renegade. This wasn’t going to look good on his record. He might even end up in a penal colony–

Suddenly a siren alert rang through the open channel. Reoh thought at first that something had gone wrong with the docking, then he saw the Starfleet starship hanging over the Belle Star.

“Drop your shields and stand down your weapons!” boomed through the speakers. Reoh opened visual, and Commander Keethzarn was on screen. “Captain Jord, release the Dilithium Nodefrom your tractor beam.”

There was a few moments when nothing happened, and Reoh could imagine Captain Jord rapidly debating her chances of winning in a fight. But the starship looked extremely capable, with a brand new phaser array on the lower saucer section.

His shuttle jolted again as the heavy hand on the tractor released them. Before Reoh could take the helm, they were in the grip of another tractor beam from Keethzarn’s ship, being pulled toward the starship.

Reoh went through the air lock first, to face Commander Keethzarn, followed by a seemingly endless line of naked, cringing Orion animal‑women.

Keethzarn slapped Reoh on the back and gave him an admiring look. “Bajoran, you don’t go half‑measures, do you? How many of them are there?”

“Thirteen,” Reoh admitted with a gulp. “I think. They don’t stop moving. . . .”

Keethzarn let out a low whistle as the girls untangled their green limbs and continued to climb out of the shuttle. The other officers were starting to get a glazed look in their eyes from so many animal‑women in the closed space.

“You help escort these women to their quarters, Ensign Nev,” Keethzarn ordered. “I’ll take care of Captain Jord.”

Nev Reoh nervously straightened his collar as he waited outside Keethzarn’s ready room. Maybe he needed to get a better autotailor. None of his uniforms ever seemed to fit right.

The door slid open, catching him flat‑footed, one finger hooked agonizingly in his collar.

“Good work!” Keethzarn sang out, reaching forward to shake Reoh’s hand.

“Uh, sir?” Reoh stammered, his entire body shaken by the large man’s grip. “What did I do?”

“You gave us the first good crack into the Orion slave trade on Beltos IV, that’s all!” Keethzarn was grinning, his slanted brows rising almost to his hairline. “Captain Jord has plea‑bargained and agreed to help us catch the Pa’a high command in their next shipment. It was those thirteen counts of slave smuggling that did it. We haven’t been able to get any Pa’a to fold under smaller charges.”

“You mean I’m not getting a reprimand?” Reoh asked.

“Reprimand! I couldn’t have done it without you, kid.”

Reoh hesitated, certain that Hammon Titus would advise him to shut up and thank his lucky stars that he wasn’t in deep trouble. But Reoh just couldn’t rest not knowing. “Commander, I smuggled all those Orion slaves off the station without telling you.”

“You sent me a fourteen‑page message last night,” Keethzarn dryly reminded him. “Full of passion and fury over the plight of these women, pleading for the life of one of them. . . .” The commander keyed through his tricorder. “Meesa, yeah, that one. Requesting to transport her out of the Beltos system despite Starfleet regulations and decades‑old trade agreements between the Pa’a and the Federation.”

Reoh shifted uneasily. “Yes?”

“Then you left without waiting for my answer.” Keethzarn clicked off the tricorder. “Either you gave up on the whole thing, which would mean you’re a wacko. Or you smuggled the girl out without permission. Either way, I was forced to investigate.” Keethzarn smacked Reoh on the back. “I couldn’t have dreamed you’d take so many with you. We saw the Pa’a ship long before we intercepted. All I had to do was wait for Jord to spring her trap and bang– gotcha!”

“You’re welcome,” Reoh said automatically. He felt a little dizzy.

“Brilliant plan! Gave Starfleet deniability in case it didn’t work, yet it couldn’t miss!” Reoh flinched as Keethzarn gave him a final whack on the shoulder. “After my report goes in, Ensign, the Enterpriseherself will want a fast thinker like you.”

Chapter Nine

“AND IT’S ONLY FOR TWO WEEKS,” Jayme finished in a rush. “Just think, you get a trip to Rahm‑Izad andyou can help out an old friend.”

Bobbie Ray protested, “I’d stick out like a purple tomshee in the middle of San Francisco. Enor would spot us in a millisecond.”

“I don’t want to hidefrom Moll,” Jayme reminded the Rex. “We’ll sort of . . . run into her on the trip. Come on, it’s my last chance to spend time with her before she graduates.”

“Then go with Enor. What do you need me for?”

Jayme picked up the springball, turning it over in her hands. “She wouldn’t agree. She would think it’s encouraging me.”

Thankfully, Bobbie Ray wasn’t the type to question other people’s motives. That was the main reason her choice of companions was so limited–all of her other friends would try to talk her out of it. But Bobbie Ray stuck to the point at hand. “I might go to Bracas V for vacation. Why don’t you ask Starsa? She likes running around in the heat.”

“Starsa would die. Rahm‑Izad has two g’s heavier gravity, with lighter air pressure.”

“How about Titus?” Bobbie Ray suggested.

“ Titus?” Jayme threw the springball against the wall and caught it in midbounce. “By the time he stopped laughing, it would be time to come home. Besides, he’s too busy getting ready for his field assignment on the Enterprisethis summer.”

“That’s right, that lucky dog. He’ll be fighting the Maquis, maybe even going into the Gamma Quadrant. That’s what I wish Iwas doing this summer.”

“The Rahm‑Izad trip is only for two weeks,” Jayme urged. “Come on, Jefferson, we almost died together–remember? I stuck by you in the caves. Can’t you help me out now?”

“Rahm‑Izad, huh?” he asked, thoughtfully examining the sheath on one claw. “Isn’t that where all those ruins are?”

“Some of the oldest in the galaxy,” Jayme quickly agreed.

“I hate ruins.” He looked at her consideringly. “But I don’t suppose I have anything better to do.”

“Thanks! You won’t regret it. Once we hook up with Moll Enor, you can do whatever you want. Sleep all day, if you’d like!” Jayme bounced the springball off the ceiling on her way out.

“Hey, that’s my ball!” Bobbie Ray called after her.

Jayme tossed it back. “Just be ready to go the week after finals,” she ordered. “And don’t tell anyone!”

*   *   *

Moll Enor knew what Jayme was up to the first moment she saw the young woman accompanied by the Rex, filing off the afternoon airbus after the other tourists. Bobbie Ray looked irritated behind his large sunglasses. He carried a portacooler, and perched on top of his head was a wide‑brimmed shade hat. Jayme was busy looking around the courtyard and hostel complex, blinded by the brilliant Rahm‑Izad sun.

“Welcome to Rahm‑Izad!” a tall Rahm greeted the tourists. The Rahm differed from the Izad only in their dominant attitude and slightly broader noses. “This way to a cool drink and a place to lay your heads. On Rahm‑Izad, we are here to serve you.”

The other tourists straggled after the Rahm, dazed from the sudden heat after their trip down from the orbital station. Jayme lingered, looking around, but Moll Enor stayed in the shadows.

“You didn’t say it would take thirty‑two hours to get here,” Bobbie Ray complained loud enough that the other tourists turned to look at them.

“Be quiet,” Jayme sighed. “I’ll get you an Arcturian Fizz somewhere, then maybe you’ll stop complaining for two minutes.”

Moll knew their meeting was inevitable, so she went to the front of the balcony overlooking the courtyard. “Ah, the happy travelers.” The way Jayme’s eyes lit up made Moll soften her tone. “You’re probably the last two people I would have guessed were interested in the Rahm‑Izad ruins.”

Bobbie Ray flipped his large, furry hand, his sunglasses sliding down his nose. “Call it a whim.”

Jayme tried to ignore him. “I’ve always been interested in the ancient humanoid cultures. Remember after you found that panspermia fossil? I wrote a history paper on the unity of the cultures on Kurl, Indri VII, and Sothis III.”

“I remember,” Moll said.

Most of the other tourists had drifted from the courtyard, proceeding to the hostel desk to pick up their room assignments. Jayme started walking sideways, so she could grin up at Moll Enor. “I guess I’ll see you later.”

Moll shook her head after the incongruous couple. What had possessed Jayme to bring Bobbie Ray? The big orange Rex ambled toward the interior, oblivious to the stares of the alien children with their parents. Moll had already noted the way kids–and nubile young women–were drawn to the fuzzy Rex.

Jayme gave a cheery wave as she went under the portico. Moll sighed again, feeling herself pull back when she really didn’t want to. Without a doubt, Jayme was the best friend she’d ever had. Moll just wished she had asked to join her on this trip instead of running after her. But to be fair, she had never given Jayme any reason to suspect that she would have agreed to go on a trip together.

Actually, Moll wished she had thought of it herself. It was about time they confronted this issue between them, and a ramble through the ruins would have been perfect.

Yet now, without a choice in the matter, Moll wanted to get out of the hostel before Jayme cornered her in her room. The chase was on, and as always, Moll Enor was running.

The heavy piers rose into the shadows, with the vaults lit by a few strategic spotlights. Moll Enor wandered among the ruins, consulting her travel padd and craning her neck to see the notable elements of the construction.

Jayme yawned as she trailed after her friend, reconsidering whether this had been such a smart idea. With her eidetic memory, Moll Enor soaked up cultures like water, always wanting to know more. Jayme was ready to return to the beach, where they could have a long, relaxing swim. Yet Moll seemed content to endlessly examine the small sculptures–alien heads and exotic animals, leaves and flowers–that were carved into the huge stone blocks.

Moll went through another one of the narrow slits in the wall, while Jayme sat down to wait in a niche, figuring it was close enough to a bench for all intents and purposes. She sat kicking her heels for a long time, but when Moll still didn’t reappear, she decided it wouldn’t hurt to prod her friend along a little.

But the slit didn’t lead to a side chamber like all the others; it was the entrance to yet another underground maze. Jayme checked down a few turns of the maze, then panicked when she took a wrong passageway and got caught in a dead end. The mazes could take hours to traverse, and the tourists had been warned time and again not to go into one without a tricorder. Moll had their padd‑guide, and she was long gone.

Slowly, carefully, Jayme retraced her steps and returned to the entrance. When she was no longer afraid of having to spend hours stuck in the maze, waiting for the Izad caretakers to perform the evening sensor sweep, she groaned and leaned her head against the cool stone. She had been so patient! All she wanted was for Moll to see that she had been loyal, that she cared about the things Moll cared about. She would do whatever it took for Moll to give them a chance, just one, to see if they belonged together.

“Arrgh!” Jayme exclaimed, giving the wall a swift kick.

The stone gave under her foot, and there was a soft “phwatt!”as a small chunk of the decorated wall landed in the layers of rock dust on the floor.

Jayme instinctively glanced around, hoping no one had seen it. But the room was empty, as were the next ones. She bent down and picked up the round object, turning it over in her hand. It was a beaked face of some sort, broken off behind the ears. On the wall, there was a ragged spot between two other beak‑faces where it used to belong.

She tried to put it back in place but it wouldn’t stay. Then voices came from the maze behind her and she stuffed the head into her pouch, backing up as a handful of laughing tourists emerged from the narrow slit.

“You know the way back to the hostel?” a Bolian female asked Jayme.

Jayme couldn’t begin to explain, but she could backtrack the path she and Moll had taken. She felt like one of the obliging Izad guides, silently leading a group of chattering tourists through assembly halls where political theory had been argued tens of thousands of years ago.

When Jayme emerged from the ruins, Bobbie Ray was seated at a courtyard table, sipping from a tall bulb of something icy‑pink. His blue‑and‑yellow‑striped sunshade was tied to the back of his chair at a rakish angle, protecting his bulk from the harsh sun.

When he saw Jayme trailing disconsolately back to the hostel, he called her over. “Look what I found!” Bobbie Ray held up a small ceramic figure about thirty centimeters high, painted a ruddy orange. “It’s a genuine Kurlan Naiskos. And it only cost twoslips of latinum.”

It only took one look for Jayme to dismiss the statue. “The Kurls made Naiskos. That’s on Kurl–a different planet in another solar system, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

“Oh.” Bobbie Ray glanced at his Naiskos. “My mother will like it anyway.”

“Have you done anything but shop and drink with the other tourists?” Jayme demanded. “Haven’t you even set foot in the ruins?”

“Not yet,” Bobbie Ray said, quite pleased with himself.

“Excuse me?” a small voice inquired.

Jayme turned to see an Izad standing slightly out of arm’s reach, hands folded in supplication, as usual. There were far more Izad than Rahm–they were the cleaners, servants, cooks, attending to the needs of the tourists and caring for the ruins.

“Yes?” Jayme asked, surprised to be addressed by one.

“You have something that doesn’t belong to you?”

“Oh!” Jayme scrambled with her waist bag. “I was going to give this to someone.”

The Izad silently held out its hand and accepted the beaked head. Its fingers caressed the head like it knew every chiseled crevice.

Bobbie Ray raised one brow at Jayme. “Stealing the artifacts, Cadet Miranda?”

“Stealing? No!” Jayme appealed to the solemn‑faced Izad. “I was going to give it back. I hope I didn’t ruin it. It was an accident. . . .”

The Izad glanced at the beaked head, then silently turned and walked away.

“I was going to return it,” Jayme told Bobbie Ray before he could say another word. “I couldn’t just leave it lying on the floor in there. I had to bring it back to give it to someone, didn’t I?”

Bobbie Ray made a show of removing his Naiskos from the table and tucking it safely back in his bag. “Sure, Jayme, sure.”

The next day, Moll Enor invited Bobbie Ray to come on the tour of the underwater ruins. Jayme almost choked when he blithely agreed.

Wiping her mouth, she said, “It’s under water, Bobbie Ray. Water, as in, we’re underneath it.”

He daintily stuck an enormous piece of meat pie into his mouth. With his mouth full, he said, “I don’t care, as long as I’m not inthe water.”

Moll could tell that Jayme took perverse joy in the change in Bobbie Ray’s self‑satisfied expression once the tour‑bubble began to sink underwater. The forcefield held back the green sea, but you could poke your finger through and feel how warm it was. Bobbie Ray shuddered as Jayme slowly shoved her entire hand through.

“It’ll break if you keep doing that,” he nervously chided her.

“Stay on dry land if you don’t want to get wet,” she retorted.

The two bickered the entire ride to the underwater grottos, while Moll tried to listen to the narration of the geophysical conditions that led to the flooding of a third of the local ruins. Neither of them noticed anything unusual until Moll protested, “Why didn’t we go into the amphitheater?”

She craned her head to look back at one of the most spectacular ruins, which their stasis bubble had simply sailed right past. Some of the other tourists were protesting, too, until they had to be shushed in order to hear the Izad at the controls.

“There is a malfunction?” it said timidly.

Cries rose from the passengers. “Something’s wrong?” “A malfunction!” Someone let out a small scream of fright.

“Relax,” Jayme ordered Bobbie Ray, trying to remove his hands, which had clenched around her arm on hearing the news.

Meanwhile, Moll Enor got up to go to the front. “What’s wrong?” she asked the Izad.

“There is a malfunction?” it patiently repeated. Moll had found that the Izad had a common, subtle tick of allowing their voices to go up at the end of a sentence, making everything they said sound like a question. Moll attributed it to their socially subservient position.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“We will go to nearest port?” the Izad offered.

“Should you surface?” Moll asked, glancing at the green arch of water held back by the stasis bubble.

The Izad merely shook its head, seemingly unworried about a stasis failure.

Moll returned to her seat, telling the others, “There’s nothing to worry about. We’re being taken to the nearest port.”

The tense whispering in the tour‑bubble didn’t lighten until they surfaced at the port. Moll was pleased to see Jayme patting Bobbie Ray’s leg occasionally, acknowledging his fear at being underwater when a “malfunction” was occurring. They wouldn’t be able to get him out of the hostel after this.

But Bobbie Ray got safely out of the bubble without wetting a hair, though he seemed subdued by the scare. Their entire group was a little disconsolate as they trailed after the Izad guide. Moll wondered how they were going to get Bobbie Ray back in a bubble to return, when Jayme edged closer and whispered, “We’ll have to find some other way to get him back.”

Moll was pleased to have her thought voiced. “There’re airbuses everywhere. We should be able to arrange something for him.”

Moll Enor blamed herself afterwards for being so concerned about Bobbie Ray that her usually superb attention was distracted from what was going on. But the Izad guide was quite natural about standing aside and gesturing for them to enter one of the massive doors of the coliseum ruin.

Inside, their group merged with a larger, milling group of mixed tourists, all confused and babbling questions over one another. “What’s going on?” Moll asked, too late to stop them from entering.

Jayme immediately turned and tried to get back out, but the entryway was blocked by a double forcefield. There were two Izad at the other end, patiently funneling more tourists into the cavernous space. The press of people pushed them deeper inside, and they were unable to stop the influx. Arching overhead and cutting the harsh sun was the sustaining blue light of the forcefield, holding the ruin together.

“It’s the Izad!” a Rahm cried out, holding its hands up to stop the angry questions. A scattered group of Rahm had gathered in the center of the enormous coliseum. The Rahm were rapidly trying to join forces against the hundreds of tourists who were discovering they were trapped against their will.

“What do they want?” Jayme called out. “Why did they do this to us?”

But she was drowned out by other voices, louder and closer to the Rahm. One was deferred to by the other Rahm; he stepped onto a fallen block of stone, to say, “I am Oxitar, Senior Manager of the Regional Tourism Board.”

Cries greeted his announcement: “What’s going on?” “When can we go back to the hostel?” “My friend needs water!”

Others shushed the voices, trying to hear Oxitar. “The Izad won’t talk to us, but there have been rumors for cycles that they were unhappy with the way our world is run. We all work hard to make Rahm‑Izad a pleasant place for people like yourselves to come, and we will continue to do so–”

“This isn’t a commercial!” someone yelled.

Oxitar held up his hands. “I’m sure this will be worked out soon, if you could be patient and let us deal with the Izad.” He bent and listened briefly to one of the other Rahm. “You can find water in the rear of this building. Please be courteous to those in need. I will speak to the Izad, and will return to tell you as soon as I have information.”

Oxitar jumped down from the block, agile like all the Rahm‑Izad despite the age lines on his forehead and ultra‑thickening of his nose‑bridge. He was surrounded by Rahm as the small group moved through the tourists, sullenly parting to let them through.

“Nice vacation,” Bobbie Ray told Jayme. “Stuck in the middle of a local revolution.”

Moll didn’t like how long Jayme was gone. After the Rahm returned to say the Izad wouldn’t communicate with them, Jayme had thought for a long time, her brow furrowed. Every time Moll tried to speak to her, she shook her head. Finally, she had said she was going to try to talk to the Izad.

When Moll offered to go with her, she acted like she would have loved to say yes, but she refused. “They may feel less threatened by one person alone.”

“Threatened?” Bobbie Ray had slyly asked. He was lying back on a blanket that padded a large section of the original benching in the coliseum. “They’re the ones holding ushostage.”

Moll lost sight of Jayme–which was a difficult thing to do in those red tights with a black‑and‑white checked ultrashorts set. Jayme wasn’t one to dress down when she was off duty, but she was so flamboyantly personable that people usually forgave the assault on their eyes. At least Moll did.

Jayme appeared, then disappeared for long stretches of time as she went down various entryways, trying to talk to the Izad. When she finally returned, she was grinning like she’d just aced a biochemistry test.

“You want to get out of here?” she asked.

“They’re letting us go?” Moll replied, startled at her success.

“Only the three of us, if we agree to help them,” Jayme clarified.

“Help them?” Bobbie Ray asked.

At the same time, Moll said, “You were able to get them to trust you?”

Jayme shrugged. “Enough anyway. I told them I’ve had training as a Starfleet negotiator–”

“What?” Bobbie Ray demanded.

“It’s sort of true. I’ve negotiated family fights plenty of times.” She smoothed her hair and resettled the clip. “Anyway, the Izad know they’ll have to deal with Starfleet sooner or later because of all these Federation citizens they’re holding.”

“The Federation won’t negotiate in a hostage situation,” Bobbie Ray protested, squirming into a more comfortable position on the hard bench. Moll figured he was outraged by Jayme’s utter audacity. “The Izad are wrong to keep us prisoners here”

“The Izad have never been given a chance,” Jayme insisted.

“And they know that releasing Starfleet personnel–us–will show goodwill.”

“What do they want?” Moll asked.

“They don’t like how the ruins are being treated,” Jayme said bluntly. “All the money is going to support the Rahm elite rather than being spent on maintaining the artifacts. The place is crumbling out from under them. At the very least, they need a weather satellite to keep the temperature swings to a minimum.”

“This is about a weathersatellite?” Bobbie Ray blinked a few times. “You mean I’m napping on a stone because they want sunshine all the time?”

“Drop it,” Jayme ordered out of the side of her mouth. Appealing to Moll, she added, “These Izad don’t have anybody capable of negotiating with the Rahm or the Federation. Apparently their plan has been boiling for decades, until the entire Izad populace simply cracked. I’d hate to see them stomped back down when they’re finally standing up for their rights. With your help, maybe we can do something.”

Moll nodded. “I want to hear more about their grievances, and I’ll need my tricorder to tap the Federation database for precedent–”

“Hello? Excuse me,” Bobbie Ray interrupted, finally swinging his legs over the edge and sitting up. “But aren’t you forgetting something? What about the Prime Directive? We aren’t supposed to interfere in an internal matter.”

Jayme met his eyes. “If I was on a mission, I would do whatever my superiors ordered. It wouldn’t be my place to do anything else. But we’re not on a mission. I’m here as Jayme Miranda, on my own personal time, and I won’t sit by and let an injustice be done.”

Moll couldn’t have been more impressed. “I’ll do whatever I can.”

They both looked at Bobbie Ray.

“What are you looking at me for?” he asked.

“You want out of here, don’t you?” Jayme asked.

Bobbie Ray got up. “Sure. Show me the way.”

Jayme put her hand on his shoulder, ushering him toward the entryway where she had appeared. “They’ve had injuries. Some of the Rahm fought back when the Tourism Board hall was stormed.”

“You’ve had one semester of premed,” Bobbie Ray protested. “You think you’re going to act like a doctor?”

“No, you are. I’m going to be busy as a negotiator.”

Bobbie Ray stopped dead. “You can’t be serious.”

“They need another pair of hands,” Jayme retorted. “I volunteered you. It’s the least you can do, Jefferson.”

He smoothed his whiskers irritably. “Are you sure the Academy won’t get upset?”

“Positive,” Jayme assured him. “They’ll be mad if you don’thelp.”

Bobbie Ray grumbled, but he actually had a good time assisting in the hospital. The Izad were so grateful for any crumb they were tossed, since they were accustomed to having to do all the work.