Reyes felt the compound entering his bloodstream as T’Prynn said, “ I will contact you later tonight to work out the details of our operation. I suspect your quarters are being monitored, so partake of your evening meal in a public venue, such as one of the restaurants on the gaming deck. I’ll be able to hear you even if you whisper.”
“I like the sound of that,” Reyes replied, to Fisher as well as T’Prynn.
The doctor nodded in apparent satisfaction. “In that case, I think we’re done here.” He said nothing else as he returned his equipment to the satchel he had brought with him. Slinging the bag over his left shoulder, he turned to regard Reyes. “Anything else I can do for you?”
“Bring me some decent coffee?” Reyes answered. “The stuff they serve over here tastes like sweat running off a rhino’s ass.”
Pausing as though considering the image that description evoked, Fisher chuckled and shook his head. “Well, so much for mydinner plans.” He held out his right hand. “Good to see you again, Diego. Take care of yourself.”
Reyes gripped his friend’s hand an extra moment. He considered attempting to convey a message to the doctor or T’Prynn that might in turn be delivered to Rana Desai, wherever she might be. He had learned of her rather sudden departure from the station, but she had not attempted to contact him prior to her leaving. Though he was certain she must have had her reasons for this abrupt decision, Reyes could not help but feel a pang of regret that she had chosen not to share any such rationale with him. While he figured Admiral Nogura knew where she had gone, Reyes was worried that any attempt by him to pass on a message might be exploited by the guard or someone else in Ganz’s organization, such as whoever doubtless was monitoring the conversations right now taking place in this room. Deciding it was not worth the risk, Reyes offered only a simple reply. “You, too, Zeke.”
“Okay, sport,” Fisher said to his escort as he moved toward the door, “let’s get a move on. Still plenty of ship to inspect before my day’s over.”
The sentry scowled as he stepped aside to allow the doctor to exit the room. Looking back at Reyes, he said, “You can go now, human.”
“Thanks, buddy,” Reyes said, offering a mock salute. “I was worried I might miss my spa appointment.”
He waited until Fisher and the guard disappeared from sight before releasing a slow sigh, shaking his head in wonderment at what had just transpired. Had Fisher and T’Prynn truly managed to succeed where others before them—by all verifiable accounts—had failed, and embedded a spy aboard the Omari-Ekon? Reyes had to believe that other covert agents had operated at one time or another while working among the Orion vessel’s crew and passengers. Likewise, he was sure most if not all of those spies ultimately had been discovered and disposed of by Ganz or members of his organization.
Well, let’s hope we can buck that trend, shall we?The thought continued to rattle around in his head even as he left the room and made his way toward one of the turbolifts that would return him to the gaming deck. It was not until he emerged from the lift and was greeted by the raucous sounds and sights of the casino that T’Prynn’s voice returned.
“ I will be in contact with you soon, Mister Reyes, but I will be monitoring this frequency in a passive scan mode, should you have need to call for assistance. On behalf of Admiral Nogura and Commander ch’Nayla, I wish to thank you for agreeing to help us in this endeavor.”
Glancing around to make sure no one was paying him any extra attention as he headed for the bar at the center of the gaming floor, Reyes could not help releasing a small chuckle as he considered his current situation.
“I just hope I don’t talk in my sleep.”
10
As he had every day for the past three weeks, Lieutenant Ming Xiong made a circuit of the containment chamber. Just as he had done on those prior occasions during the unit’s construction and installation, he studied every detail and allowed nothing to escape his notice. He inspected each setting on every control panel, eyed every joint and seam where duranium metal plates had come together to form the compartment’s outer shell. Even the conduits connecting the container to its source of power were subjected to his unflinching scrutiny. When he came abreast of the first control panel to be inspected during this latest assessment, Xiong without a moment’s hesitation began the process all over again, only this time, he turned and began to circle the container in the opposite direction.
“Well, would you look at that,” a male voice said from somewhere to his right. “I think he’s finally snapped.”
Another voice, also male though possessing a slightly higher pitch, replied, “What do you mean snapped? He seems perfectly normal to me.”
“Can’t you see?” the first man asked, his tone now clearly one of jest. “He’s walking the wrong way.” Then, his voice rising in volume, he said, “Lieutenant, if you keep that up, you’re going to wear through the deck plating.”
Unable to keep from smiling as he halted his inspection, Xiong turned to look at the two men standing at the entrance to the U.S.S. Lovell’s secondary cargo bay. “Mister Anderson. Mister O’Halloran. Glad you could make it.”
“Wouldn’t miss it,” replied Anderson as he and O’Halloran made their way into the cargo bay.
“Says you,” O’Halloran countered. “This was supposed to be my day off.”
Anderson shook his head. “You big baby.”
The verbal banter helped to ease Xiong’s mood as the engineers approached. Both wore Starfleet uniforms with red tunics bearing a lieutenant’s stripes, though neither officer appeared old enough to be more than a week out of the Academy. Xiong figured that their apparent youth in large part could be attributed to the jocular, almost irreverent manner in which they engaged nearly every conversation that was not directly related to their assigned duties. He was aware that such behavior was a hallmark of nearly every member of the Lovell’s crew, in particular the contingent of specialists assigned to the ship’s detachment from the Corps of Engineers. However, having seen the crew work on several occasions, Xiong knew from experience that any unconventional antics they might exhibit disappeared when duty or necessity called. In this regard, he likened the men and women assigned to the Lovellto Captain Adelard Nassir and his crew aboard the U.S.S. Sagittarius. That eclectic, tight-knit group also was rather unorthodox in its methods, but no one could argue the results they achieved.
The same could be said for the Lovellitself, being an all but ancient Daedalus-class vessel. A relic of the previous century, it and two sister ships had been pulled from deep storage at the Qualor II shipyards and refurbished for use by the Corps of Engineers, offering its crew of specialists and miracle workers ample opportunity to tinker with every onboard system to the point where the Lovellnow performed almost as well as any ship built within the past three decades. Given the irregular nature of what Xiong and this vessel’s crew were about to attempt, “unorthodox” was just the sort of character trait that was needed here and now.
“Well,” Xiong said, offering a wry grin, “I appreciate you being here, even if you’re not supposed to be here today.”
“No problem, Lieutenant,” Anderson said. “Commander alKhaled prefers to have us on hand when there’s a possibility of something blowing up, or ripping open the fabric of space-time.”
O’Halloran’s eyes narrowed. “That’s not going to happen today, though. Right?”
“I can’t predict what might result from this test,” Xiong replied, “but I’m fairly confident the space-time continuum is secure, at least for the moment.” Even as he spoke the words, Xiong considered his answer. If Operation Vanguard had taught him anything, it was to anticipate the unexpected, the unlikely, or even the impossible.