“I take it we haven’t had luck finding anything on that front, either,” Leone said. He asked Khatami, “How long are we supposed to stay out here, anyway?”
Khatami frowned. “We’ve been given no end date, but I’m about ready to throw in the towel and set course for home.”
“Now we’re talking,” Leone replied. “You’ve seen my other reports, Captain. The crew’s been operating at warp nine for weeks without a break. Efficiency is starting to slip, though the department heads are doing a pretty good job of holding things together. Still, my staff has treated more than a few cuts and bruises resulting from fights belowdecks.” He shook his head, clearly disgusted that the physical and mental well-being of the people in his care was anything less than ideal. Khatami knew from long experience that Leone was not keen on standing around, unable to do anything to rectify such a problem. “They need some downtime, Captain, and soon.”
Khatami nodded. “I appreciate your report, Doctor, as well as your continued efforts to keep things on track.” Looking to Xiong and Klisiewicz, she said, “Gentlemen, unless you can give me some compelling reason for us to remain here, I’m advising Vanguard of our current status and requesting authorization to return to base.”
She watched as the two young science officers exchanged looks. Neither man wanted to admit that they were all wasting their time, but it was not as though they had been given any say in the matter. The Shedai were the ones to blame for all the tail chasing that had ensued in the aftermath of their abrupt disappearance.
“Considering our notable lack of progress,” Klisiewicz said, “I think our time would be better utilized elsewhere, Captain.”
Xiong added, “I’ve been thinking that with the Shedai apparently having gone dormant, this might be a good time to return to the sites on Erilon or Ravanar. There’s still much to be learned about their technology.”
Frowning, Leone said, “Didn’t you just say there might be renegade Shedai on some of those planets?” He looked at the other officers. “If I’m the only one here who thinks going back to those places is a really bad idea, I’m scheduling a bunch of psych tests after lunch.”
“Of course, there’s a risk,” Xiong countered, eyeing the doctor with what Khatami recognized as a well-hidden air of irritation, “but if we’re to have any chance of understanding the Shedai and their capabilities, we need to continue our hands-on research. I can’t see that we have any other choice.”
Khatami knew that while scientific curiosity fueled the young lieutenant, recent events in the Taurus Reach had altered his perspective on why he was out here. Originally, his attitude had been that the knowledge they would uncover as they researched the Taurus Meta-Genome should be shared by all, perhaps to the benefit of thousands of species spread across the galaxy. That noble desire had been tainted by the stark realization of what might happen to the galaxy—and those thousands of species—if an enemy such as the Klingons discovered a way to wield the power once commanded by the Shedai.
“Points well taken, Mr. Xiong. I suggest you begin coordinating with Dr. Marcus back on the station and have her begin whatever preparations you’ll need from her to support a return visit to one of those locations. I’ll inform Commander Cooper with my next report. Thank you, gentlemen.”
The informal meeting was over, and as Xiong and Klisiewicz returned to their work, Khatami turned and stepped down into the bridge’s command well. To her left, she saw Leone hovering near the curved red railing separating the bridge’s upper and lower sections. “Something else on your mind, Doctor?” she prompted as she settled into the command chair.
“Just what I said before, Captain,” Leone replied, the fingers of his left hand fidgeting with the data slate he still carried. “Shore leave. The sooner, the better.”
“All in good time, Tony,” Khatami replied. “Besides,” she said as she leaned back in her chair, looking over her shoulder at Leone, “something tells me we’ll be spending plenty of time on the station once we get back.”
Stepping closer so that his voice would not carry across the bridge, the doctor said, “You mean the business with Commodore Reyes?”
“Yes,” Khatami replied. “I expect the senior staff will be deposed, but they’ll have to do it quickly, given our operational tempo. I wouldn’t get your hopes up of spending all of your shore leave enjoying yourself.”
Leone’s face screwed up into one of his trademark sarcastic scowls. “Getting verbally abused by a lawyer? I haven’t had that much fun since my second divorce. As long as they let me drink during the deposition, I’ll be fine.” Without waiting for a rebuttal, the doctor signaled a farewell gesture to Khatami before turning and disappearing into the turbolift at the back of the Endeavour’s bridge.
Suppressing the smile that always seemed to come whenever Anthony Leone opened his mouth, Khatami glanced over her shoulder toward the communications station. “Lieutenant Estrada,” she said, “let’s prep a message to send to Vanguard.”
9
“Greetings, Dr. M’Benga. I am Sobon. It has come to my attention that you seek the assistance of someone skilled in the treatment of certain psychological ailments known to affect Vulcans on rare occasions. I believe I may be able to offer such assistance.”
M’Benga touched a control on the wall-mounted keypad next to the main viewscreen in Commander Cooper’s office and paused the visual playback. The image on the screen froze, depicting an aged, withered Vulcan. His white hair was long, pulled back away from his tanned, lined face. He was dressed in a simple beige garment, a form of robe that M’Benga recognized as that typically worn by older healers as well as Kolinahrhigh masters.
“I did some checking on him,” M’Benga said, turning to where Cooper sat behind his desk. Occupying one of the chairs before the desk, Fisher regarded him with his hands clasped in front of him. “Sobon at one time was one of the most respected physicians at the Vulcan Science Academy. In the early twenty-second century, he was a member of the science contingent working on Earth. He was somewhat of a maverick back then, one of the few Vulcans who advocated a closer cooperative relationship with Earth. He championed sharing more information in a number of areas, particularly medicine. Because of him, human medical science made several leaps in a very short period of time, developing cures or treatments for a number of debilitating diseases. The gradual increase of human life spans over the past century can be traced directly to Sobon’s efforts.”
Fisher said, “You said he was respected at one time. Does that mean he’s not carrying that kind of clout anymore?”
“He resigned from the science academy more than forty years ago to pursue other interests,” M’Benga replied. “Continuing his mental studies, he attained the level of adept, a master of the mental healing arts. Soon after that, he rejected that title and position, and since then, he’s been living and working as a healer at a commune tucked away in the L-langon Mountains. From what I’ve been able to learn, the village is pretty isolationist. There are several communities like it scattered around the planet, shunning most contact with the rest of Vulcan society. The closest parallel I can think of is the Amish religion on Earth.”
Leaning forward in his chair, Cooper said, “Parallel in that they eschew modern technology and conveniences and fly under most people’s radar?”
“For the most part, yes,” M’Benga replied.
Fisher asked, “If that’s the case, then what is it they think they can do to help with T’Prynn’s problem? I’m going to guess that whatever passes for a hospital in that mountain retreat isn’t equipped for this sort of thing.”