Possession - J.M. Dillard [54]
“If we eliminate all the females, all the children, all the non-humans, and all the higher ranking officers, it will narrow the search to a reasonable number. You must do this to be able to identify your attacker.” He looked at her more sternly. “And I want you to get a positive identification of anyone coming to your door. If you do not recognize their name, do not let them in!”
“Don’t worry.” She smiled wanly. “I also have a black belt in paranoia.”
He frowned at the statement, as though disapproving of jokes at such a serious moment. “One more thing. Alexander will be contacting you. He hopes you might join us for dinner. I will explain to him that you need to recover—”
“The hell you will!” she protested. “I’d love to come to dinner and just put all this behind me. And where would I be safer but with the chief of security? Let Alexander send his invitation. I’ll answer yes, and be pleased to do so. Unless you don’t want me there.”
He hesitated, and for a terrible moment, she feared he was trying to find the polite way to turn her down. If he was honest and admitted it, she told herself stoically, she would accept it. She’d started things between them on the worst possible note, and now this—
“Kyla, I would be pleased to have you come for dinner,” he said quietly, and she smiled at the honesty in his dark eyes.
“Great. So, what’s for dinner?”
“Those are the artifacts?” Geordi said softly, as he peered through the clear quarantine casing to view the tiny unimposing objects. They looked like shining black art objects or elegantly designed containers to hold a cache of jewels—something to be held in the palm of the hand and admired. The sight of them made him want to hold one, to feel its smoothness, to observe the play of shimmering light across its dark polished surface.
“The very ones,” Crusher said ruefully next to him. Her tone carried the same emotions Geordi felt: attraction warring with revulsion. On the engineer’s other side, Data stood examining the tricorder readouts.
“Sure don’t look like they could be responsible for anything as serious as a planetary infection,” said Geordi. He walked around the objects enclosed in the fields and eyed them carefully. His VISOR could detect nothing harmful about the objects; it merely registered their simplicity. Try as he might, he could detect nothing beyond the sleek, outer surface, which appeared to be made of an unfamiliar metal alloy.
“In fact,” Data corrected Geordi smoothly, glancing up from his readouts, “it is not these objects per se that caused the illness on Vulcan, but rather the entities that are contained within.” He stared curiously at the objects. “Apparently, the disease vectors are in the form of subatomic particles, but how they interact with the brain and control the host is, as yet, unknown.”
“Captain Picard thinks you might be able to decipher the writing on the shells?” Crusher asked Data.
“He has asked Skel if I might analyze the engravings,” Data elaborated. “Skel has agreed, and has given me access to the Vulcan’s work. They believe they have translated the phrase, ‘For war alone—.’ I am hoping to take their work and expand upon it. Even if there is not time to complete it before the TechnoFair, I might be able to uncover one of their language matrixes.”
“I don’t know, Data,” Geordi said warily. “The Vulcans have been working on this stuff for eighty years. How are they going to feel if you solve this puzzle in a couple of days?”
Data seemed flustered for the moment. “But, Geordi, Vulcans do not express their emotions, therefore …” He paused, as if finally getting the joke.
Geordi and Crusher both smiled as the android nodded. “Ah. I see. Vulcans do not express their emotions, therefore we will never know how they really ‘feel’ at all! Yes. Very subtle.”
“I think when Master Scientist Skel finally meets you, Data,” Geordi said, “he’ll find you a kindred spirit!”
Crusher’s face grew somber, and both officers noticed it.
“I say something