Miracle Workers (SCE Books 5-8) - Keith R. A. DeCandido_. [et al.] [11]
“Commander,” she said, “I need to administer theragen boosters to everyone. Dr. Lense’s orders were for the shots to be given out if she wasn’t back by 1600 hours.”
Duffy nodded, remembering Lense’s report from her earlier briefing. The effectiveness of the theragen treatment received by the entire crew would weaken over time and require bolstering through additional inoculations.
“Fire away,” he said, craning his neck to allow the nurse access. As the spray hissed below his ear, he had a momentary pang of concern as he thought once more about the substance being pumped into his bloodstream.
Actually a Klingon nerve gas that was instantly lethal in its purest form, the theragen derivative was also the da Vinci crew’s best defense against slipping into the same space madness that had gripped those aboard the Defiant a century ago. Duffy, for one, was thankful for the medicine. The last thing he needed right now, on top of everything else, was to have to cope with a mentally unstable crew.
As Wetzel finished inoculating him, Duffy said, “Thanks, Sandy. How’s Songmin doing?”
Wetzel had been the first of the medical team to report to the bridge during the Tholian attack that had interrupted the da Vinci’s recovery operation and sent the Defiant plunging back into the interspatial rift. She had arrived to find the usual assortment of bumps, cuts, and bruises except for the more seriously injured helmsman, Ensign Songmin Wong.
“We’re treating him for a concussion,” she replied. “He’ll be released for duty after a night’s rest.”
Duffy nodded thankfully as Wetzel moved to the helmsman now seated at Wong’s usual position. Then his attention was drawn to the communications station, where an animated discussion looked to be taking place between Carol Abramowitz and Bart Faulwell. The two had been hard at work since Duffy had returned from his private conversation with Captain Scott. He’d been too busy to wonder what they’d been up to before now, but as he watched their exchange for several more seconds, he decided that this was the time to find out.
He walked toward them, trying to be obvious about his approach, but the two didn’t flinch. Abramowitz leaned forward in her seat, occasionally keying commands as the tall, lean Faulwell stood beside her, both remaining intently focused on their work. Then Duffy noticed that they were both straining to listen to small Feinberg audio receivers plugged into their ears. Who were they talking to? What in the hell was going on?
Speaking softly, he said, “Hello? Heh-lo-oh.”
The best comparison Duffy could make to the sound that came out of Abramowitz’s mouth was that of a tribble freshly tossed into a Klingon’s lap. The cultural specialist’s eyes widened in momentary shock as she registered Duffy’s presence, her surprise nearly jerking her against the back of her chair. Duffy chuckled at her response, but neither she nor Faulwell seemed amused at the interruption.
“I’m sorry, Commander,” she said, regaining some of her composure. “I guess we were somewhere else.”
“Where?”
Faulwell couldn’t seem to help the hint of a proud smile starting to creep onto his face. “Truth be told, Mr. Duffy, I was giving Carol here a lesson in Tholian cryptography. We’ve been reviewing some of the coded messages between the commander of the Tholian ship and his contact on their homeworld. You may find this interesting.”
Duffy didn’t try to hide his surprise as he looked to Abramowitz. “Coded messages? You mean you tapped into their communications?” He couldn’t help but be amused when Abramowitz didn’t reply immediately, but instead actually shuffled her feet, as if uncertain how to answer his question.
“Um, I kind of intercepted and recorded all of the transmissions to and from the Tholian ship while we were maintaining contact.” She shrugged her shoulders and widened her eyes, the very picture of innocence.