Miracle Workers (SCE Books 5-8) - Keith R. A. DeCandido_. [et al.] [67]
In fact, the tents can barely fit four, and Kejahna knew it.
“Oh,” I added, “and they won’t be able to take their personal items with them when they switch tents. Too much risk of spreading the infection.”
“That won’t be necessary,” Kejahna said. “This happens all the time.”
“So did inefficient work, bad design, and poor scheduling. That’s all changing, and so’s this. Now I want each of those nine to report to the hospital, and once Dr. Dolahn has verified that they have Dakota’s, I want them each isolated in separate tents for fifty-six hours, as per Starfleet Quarantine Regulation #471946A, Paragraph 9, Subsection C. If they don’t have Dakota’s, I want them back at work immediately. Are we clear, Kejahna?”
An interesting thing I’ve observed about a race with no discernible pupils is that they’re not nearly as good at menacing stares as races with them. Nevertheless, Kejahna’s expression was not a particularly pleasant one.
He finally said, “Very clear, Commander. I will let you know what the doctor tells me about their medical status.”
“I’m sure you will.”
Kejahna walked off. Razka looked at me with a smile on his face. “You remembered that regulation number from memory. I’m impressed.”
I smiled. “Don’t be. I made it up.”
Completely deadpan, Razka said, “I’m shocked that you would do such a thing, Commander. Simply shocked.”
I laughed at that, and then went on with the inspection.
Not surprisingly, by the end of the day all of the digging detail had reported to work. Of course, they were even more behind, but one takes what one can get.
Personal log, Commander Sonya Gomez, planet Sarindar, Stardate 53277.1
J’Roh now thinks I’m the most amazing thing he’s ever seen, and has been telling anyone who’ll listen—and many who won’t—about how I lifted the curse on this planet. He started calling me “Sañuul,” which sounds similar to my given name and is Nalori for “curse-lifter.”
It took his detail until noon yesterday to get all the antigravs fixed, but they did it. The units continued to work flawlessly all afternoon and all day today—which, as far as I can tell, is the longest they’ve gone so far without any one of them breaking down since the project started. I’m fairly confident that we’ll be back on schedule within a day or two.
This has impressed some of the workers. Not all of them, mind you. The ones who tried the “ sick-out” still glare at me dolefully (though, at least they’re almost done with the digging—it should be complete in time for tomorrow’s test of the antimatter reactor). Kejahna also keeps glowering at me. Many others, though, have joined J’Roh in calling me “Sañuul,” and even smiling at me occasionally.
Of course, I didn’t lift any curses, really, I just applied myself to the task. But the Nalori seem to believe in curses—and who knows? Maybe in some bizarre sort of way, I did actually lift a curse. Zilder keeps smiling and saying, “Ho’nig works in very bizarre ways,” and who am I to argue?
But then, maybe I’m feeling whimsical after the story Razka told me tonight. We were sitting outside my tent (and no, I still can’t get over the fact that I’m sleeping in a tent), sharing a particularly tepid supper of mashed vixpril—a root from the Nalori homeworld that’s probably a delicacy when prepared right.
“There are legends of a monster, you see. There are animals here called the shii.”
I told him I remembered reading about them in the mission briefing—and seeing them on the way down, for that matter. Four-legged creatures of solid crystal, they’re predators, but not particularly harmful to carbon-based life, since they can only digest other silicon-based life. Kind of the local equivalent of lions or sharks.
“Ah, yes, but you