Possession - J.M. Dillard [49]
“Yes,” Skel agreed softly, as he waited for Tarmud to sleep. “We need Dr. Dannelke. Dr. Ellis as well. And some of the senior staff. But most importantly of all, we must have the empath.”
Tarmud’s mouth twitched in a smile, though his eyes remained shut. “Yes,” he murmured dreamily. “The empath. We tasted her during the contact. We need the empath …”
She would never be infected, Skel knew; she was too valuable. As his mother had been, Troi would be sacrificed to the subatomic entities’ hunger. They could detect her emotional state and, more importantly, the energy produced by her fears could feed them from a distance. Unlike T’Reth, however, Deanna Troi would be kept alive for a long, long time… .
Chapter Five
SWEPT AWAY ON A WAVE of scientific ecstasy, Kyla Dannelke peered raptly through her ophthalmic visor at the new android eye models Dr. Tarmud had given her. The blankly staring orbs—their irises a striking shade of violet, their artificial organic optic nerves trailing like streamers—rested in a fluid bath while Dannelke held them with forceps, peering through her visor like a jeweler examining an impressively cut diamond. Her visor included an optical scanner, which permitted her to focus all the way down to the cellular level—or all the way in the other direction as binoculars.
Beautiful, she thought, smiling to herself as she measured and analyzed the orbs, using the scope to peer through the retina deep into the artificial organ’s interior. Absolutely beautiful. A combination of organics, electronics, and mechanics, these were the ultimate android eyes. Tarmud had outdone himself. They incorporated all that Tarmud had accomplished with his early VISOR, and more; these eyes would be able to perceive all that was visible to the naked human eye, plus ultraviolet, infrared, and several other spectrum bands as well.
Once she examined the eyes and their accompanying optic nerves on the cellular level, she’d write her report. But the small blinking inset in her visor’s lower right field advised her that the hour was already late—and she wanted to invite Worf and his son to have dinner in her quarters. Thinking about the prospect made her smile. She’d considered inviting Worf alone, but quickly rejected that idea; Alexander was so bright that she couldn’t bear to leave him out of the invitation. Besides, if there was any way through to his father’s rough Klingon heart, it was through that bright young boy. She’d read that Klingons liked strong-flavored dishes, especially animal products, and so she’d decided to coax the replicator into duplicating her grandmother’s infamous liver and onions—served rare, of course—for Worf. Maybe Counselor Troi would know what Alexander’s favorite meal was, so she could order that. For herself—
The door chime interrupted her reverie, causing her to glance, mildly irritated, at the time again. She wasn’t expecting anyone—unless it was Tarmud already looking for her report. How fast did he think she could work?
“Come.” She glanced up at the door through the visor, forcing it to rapidly change its focus from the cellular level to normal sight.
The doors opened upon a short dark-skinned young man—a uniformed ensign who seemed oddly familiar. Odder still, he wore no communicator badge.
“Yes?”
“Sorry to bother you, Doctor,” he began hesitantly. “I can see you’re still working.”
She forced a smile, although his hesitancy annoyed her; she wanted him to get to the point and be done with it, so she could return to her work. “What can I do for you?”
“Actually, Doctor, I’m here to help you.” He took a timid step toward her.
“With what? I don’t remember asking for anything. Or did Ensign Evans send you?” She finally recalled requesting data cassettes and another computer padd that morning; now it was almost dinner time. Where had the day gone? She leaned back over the android eyes again, thinking that he could leave the items on her desk.
“Yes, exactly,” the young man said, sounding relieved, as if