The Farther Shore - Christie Golden [37]
“It’s good enough for now, Commander,” said Janeway, walking over to the android and putting an affectionate hand on his shoulder. Her eyes took in the scene fondly. It was good to see her friends on the right side of a prison force field.
Her next task was to see to it that they stayed there.
“I’m afraid I have to ask you to download the [108] Doctor once more, Data. And you two,” she said to Seven and Icheb, “will have to hang on for a little bit longer.”
“Where to now?” asked the Doctor.
Janeway smiled, softly. “We’re going to go visit an old friend,” she said.
Chapter 9
THERE WAS a chirping sound, and Libby started. Dimly she realized someone was trying to contact her. Automatically she touched the button, trying to compose herself. If anyone asked, she’d just say she’d been sick. Which was the truth.
It was Aidan Fletcher. She opened her mouth to speak, but he spoke first.
“I can tell by your expression that you’ve read the document,” he said.
Her mind worked sluggishly, then she said, “How do you—you read it!”
He nodded. “Guilty as charged.”
She seized on the anger. It was much nicer than nauseating, numb horror. “You son of a bitch!” she exploded. “You promised!”
“I know, but come on, Libby—you know I had to.” [110] He was pleading with her, and her brief fire of outrage flickered and went out. She sagged in her chair.
“I suppose you did.” Now that she looked at him, she could see that he was much paler than usual as well. “You look about as bad as I feel,” she said.
“I feel pretty bad,” he admitted. “I wanted to let you know that we’ll take it from here. This can’t be Starfleet-authorized. Someone is acting on his own.”
“Her own,” Libby corrected, “and you are not going to take it from here.”
He frowned. “Agent Webber,” he began calmly.
“Don’t Agent Webber me! This is my case and has been from the beginning.”
“But you know what’s at stake!” he cried. “The virus is spreading every minute. The doctors estimate that soon healthy adults will become infected.”
“They’re not there yet,” Libby replied. “If Covington were able to issue an instruction for them to activate, she’d have done it by now. She can’t command them as completely as she’d like. We’ve got a little time.”
He shook his silver-gold head. “Supposition. No. I’m sorry.”
“Aidan, you wouldn’t even be aware that this was going on if it hadn’t been for me!” Libby protested. “Besides, everyone who works at that building is in danger. Don’t you think she hasn’t anticipated possible discovery? Don’t you think you’re already infected?”
He paled. “I haven’t been exposed to any debris.”
Exasperated, Libby cried, “Do you think that matters? Your desk is probably covered with nanoprobes.”
[111] His gaze fell to his desk and he scooted his chair back. If it hadn’t been so dreadfully serious it would have been funny.
“If she thinks she’s in danger from anyone in SI, she’ll activate the nanoprobes. You are probably among the first who’ll be stricken, Aidan. She picked me because—” Oh, how she hated to say it “—because she didn’t deem me any kind of threat. Because she thought I was too stupid to figure out her game. I’ve got a lot more room to maneuver than you do. Please. Give me some time. I have some ... some contacts. Some names to clear.”
“Harry,” he said. “Of course. I’m afraid I—”
“Twenty-four hours.”
“What?”
“Twenty-four hours. Give me twenty-four hours. Please, Aidan.”
He looked at her helplessly. “Libby, this isn’t a game.”
“Believe me, I know. Twenty-four hours. Please.”
His eyes searched hers. Finally, he said, “Twelve hours. And while you’re doing ... whatever it is you’ll be doing, you should be aware that I’m assembling a team of my own. At precisely twelve hours and one second from now, I’ll be executing my plan.”
“The minute you move against her, Covington will activate the virus,” Libby warned.
“We all run risks doing what we do, Agent Webber.”
“Twelve hours, then.”
Aidan sighed.