Surak's Soul - J.M. Dillard [29]
“Thank you.” Cutler paused. “Then let’s start right away with you, sir.”
Archer waved a hand dismissively, and moved his shoulders slightly in the direction of the doorway. “I’m a little busy right now, Ensign. I think it’s important that the rest of the crew—”
“Sir.” Cutler drew herself up, and assumed a more commanding air. “This puts me in the position of chief medical officer. And as such, I must point out to you that, unfortunately, the landing party is at highest risk of coming down with radiation sickness. The construction of the ship offers us some protection, sir—but you were down on the planet’s surface.”
“She’s quite right,” T’Pol offered; Archer shot her an irritated glance. She lifted her eyebrows in mild surprise and added, “We were exposed more than the others, Captain. Therefore, assuming we were exposed sufficiently, we will come down with the malady before the others.” She paused a beat. “Denobulans are more susceptible to radiation sickness than humans. It’s logical that Doctor Phlox would succumb first.”
“Fine.” Archer gestured the Vulcan toward Cutler and the diagnostic equipment. “Then I’ll order you to go first.”
“Vulcans are more resistant to radiation poisoning than humans,” T’Pol countered.
Cutler was nodding. “No more arguments, Captain. I’ll need you for no more than a minute….” She reached for a medical scanner, waved it over Archer, then went to a different corner and began preparing an injection.
The captain sighed and rolled up his sleeve, but turned to T’Pol. “You next,” he said. “While you’re waiting, contact Hoshi and Reed, and get them in here ASAP.”
Blessedly, T’Pol did not ask for a translation of the acronym, but instead went directly to the companel to comply.
And as Archer felt the cold metal of the hypo Cutler pressed against his skin, he thought, For all the good it will do any of us….
Hoshi was dreaming in Oani.
She often dreamed in other languages; and this night, as on many others, she spoke with perfect fluency, and understood with ease.
She was sitting in the hospital waiting room, where the landing party had witnessed dozens of Oanis sitting patiently in death; but in the dream, the room was entirely empty, save for herself, and Uroqa, and Kano.
They sat beside her in the nacreous mother-of-pearl waiting room, all of them seated cross-legged on the cushioned floor. Both Uroqa and Kano were well, and smiling benevolently at her; as she spoke to them, she gazed from time to time at the wall directly across from them—entirely transparent, revealing a sparkling shore and the ocean, blue-green, with gently rolling waves.
You must not worry about us any more, Uroqa said in his distinctive baritone. We are safe now. We are happy.
Kano leaned forward to take his hand—twelve fingers intertwined—and nodded. Her voice was soft, but huskier than Hoshi imagined it might be.
Yes. We are happy. But we are very worried about you.
About me? Hoshi shook her head in surprise. But I’m not the one who’s dead.
Do you see that? Uroqa asked suddenly, and inclined his broad bronze head toward the transparent wall.
Hoshi followed his gaze. Outside, the glistening white sand had disappeared; the tide had come in, and the water was now beating against the glass at ankle length.
It’s only going to keep growing, Kano said calmly, until it swallows us all.
The words filled Hoshi with inexplicable dread. She stared at the slowly rising water a time, then back at Kano, delicate and small-framed beside her broad, muscular mate.
What do you mean? Hoshi demanded.
But Kano would not speak again; and Uroqa merely inclined his head again at the glass.
The water rose, and the waves grew, larger and larger, pulling away from the wall with greater and greater force, and then smashing against the glass until Hoshi could see nothing else…until at last, they broke through, crashing, sweeping Hoshi and the Oanis up in a tide that pulled incessantly, smothering her, stealing her breath. She screamed, but no sound came….
Except for the beep of the companel next to her bunk.