The Red King - Michael A. Martin [107]
Riker settled heavily into his command chair, suddenly hyperaware of the lateness of the hour. The responsibility that had landed on his shoulders had attained an almost crushing weight. He was glad that Deanna was due back aboard Titan before the convoy was to go to warp; though he expected he’d have precious little time to discuss his fears and misgivings with her immediately, they would certainly have time to thoroughly catch up with one another during the two-day voyage back to the rift, during which time he could finally unburden himself.
He wasn’t certain at the moment which aspect of Deanna Troi he needed more: counselor, wife, lover, or senior adviser. He only knew that he needed her at his side.
Chapter Eighteen
IMPERIAL WARBIRD VALDORE, STARDATE 57039.2
“Commander Suran?”
The voice seemed to be speaking from a great distance, as though Suran had fallen into a deep cavern while those left above searched for him in vain.
The darkness in the cavern lessened, even as Suran’s sense of confusion increased. He could see now that he wasn’t in a cavern after all; he was in a room, a place that looked familiar.
“You might not want to try to speak, Commander,” said the possessor of the voice. “The drugs are only now beginning to wear off.”
Suran focused on the voice’s source: the bruised and swollen face of a young man dressed in a light orange infirmary gown. His arm was in a sling, which bore rank pins that revealed him to be an enlisted uhlan, a noncommissioned officer.
Suran struggled to sit up. Where was he? All at once he recognized the serene blue walls of the Valdore’s infirmary. The place was as quiet as the lowest underworld reaches of Erebus. “How…how did I get here?”
“Perhaps you were attacked,” said the young enlisted man, who paused to cast a worried glance over his shoulder, even though the infirmary appeared to be empty. “I believe that Dr. Venora has been deliberately keeping you unconscious.”
“Why do you say that?”
“I’m trained as a corpsman, Commander. I’ve been recuperating here ever since the Valdore got pulled into the Great Bloom. So I’ve had little to do but watch the medical staff minister to you. Before they got busy elsewhere with the rescue operations, that is.”
Rescue? Suran swallowed, and found his throat to be as dry as the mines of Remus. “How long have I been unconscious, Uhlan?”
“Nearly four eisae, Commander.”
It was a stunning blow. In essence, he’d been tossed almost four days into the future. And during that time, some sort of rescue had become necessary, an operation that had evidently greatly depleted the infirmary staff. Why can’t I remember anything?
Something occurred to him then: amnemonic drugs, of the sort used as anesthetics during major surgeries. During his long decades of military service he had witnessed enough medical procedures to know that, say, a heart patient might be conscious during a delicate open-thoracic procedure, and yet remember absolutely nothing afterward because of such compounds.
But why would Venora do that to him? And why during a time of evident emergency?
Donatra. With a pain-wracked grunt, Suran completed the laborious process of sitting up. A momentary bout of light-headedness seized him, along with a wave of nausea. He closed his eyes for several moments, allowing both unpleasant sensations to break over him and then recede like the tides of the Apnex Sea. Slowly, he allowed his eyes to open again and began taking in the entire room.
He noticed then that he, like the uhlan, was clad only in a loose-fitting patient’s smock. He also confirmed that the infirmary was indeed empty except for himself and the junior crew member.
There was no way to know how long that situation might last.
“Uhlan, I want you to tell me everything that’s happened since I was brought here.”
“Yes, Commander. Though I’m sure I haven’t been told everything.