Three - Michael Jan Friedman [29]
“This won’t take long,” he assured her in his most clinical voice. Then he punched the requisite studs in the side of the bed and examined his readouts.
His patient was human right down to the cellular level. The captain would be pleased to learn that, at least.
She was healthy as well. If she had suffered any ill effects as a result of her transit from universe to universe, they didn’t show up on his scans.
No evidence of exposure to any of the more exotic diseases either—just as the transporter’s biofilter had indicated. Not even Hesperan thumping cough, which most of the crew had contracted at one time or another.
Greyhorse checked for signs of plastic surgery, but couldn’t find any. Her hair, eye, and skin color were natural. And when he compared her genetic makeup with his file data on Gerda and Idun, he found that she matched them almost exactly.
All in all, the newcomer was just what she seemed—an exact duplicate of Gerda and Idun Asmund, every bit as close to them as they were to each other.
“Do I pass?” she asked.
He couldn’t help glancing at her. She was smiling again. But then, she had never been raised by Klingons or exposed to the savagery of their culture. She had grown up in some other, more human—more civilized—milieu, and it showed.
“You do,” he said flatly, doing his best to conceal all of the emotions he was feeling.
The strongest of them, surprisingly, was fear. [84] Greyhorse was very much afraid that he would find this pleasant, easygoing, undeniably more human version of his lover more attractive than Gerda herself.
“We’re done?” asked Joseph.
The doctor turned to him. “You are. I’ll contact the captain with my findings.” Then he glanced at his patient again; it was unavoidable. “Thank you for your time.”
“Don’t mention it,” she told him.
Then she lowered herself off the biobed and glanced at Joseph. “Shall we?”
The acting security chief didn’t say anything. He just smiled and nodded. Then he accompanied the woman as she made her way to the exit.
Greyhorse found himself envying Joseph. He wanted the newcomer to stay so he could get to know her better. He wanted to find out in what ways she differed from Gerda—and in what ways she was the same.
However, he didn’t ask her to come back. He retreated to his office instead.
It was only when he was safely inside the enclosure that he slumped into his chair, let his head fall back, and breathed a heartfelt sigh of relief.
Vigo stopped and waited for his Starfleet colleagues to catch up with him.
To this point, luck had been on their side. They had made their way through half the installation without running into any of the intruders, Pandrilite or otherwise.
Now they were standing just inside the arch of an exit door—the same door from which Riyyen had emerged [85] to welcome Vigo on his arrival. So far so good, he thought. But their next step would be a tougher one.
Vigo looked at Sebring and then at Runj. “It’s a cloudy night,” he said, recalling the meteorological scan he had seen before he went to sleep. “We’ll have that going for us.”
“Great,” said Sebring, in a sarcastic tone. “What could possibly go wrong?”
The Pandrilite resisted the urge to answer him. Without another word, he pressed the metal plate next to the door. It opened as if there were nothing amiss—no security breach, no invaders, and no possibility of the Federation losing some of its best-kept secrets.
As Vigo had expected, me sky was blanketed with clouds. The planet’s moon was on the other side of them, leaving the terrain outside the installation all but lightless.
Fortunately, they didn’t need much light to find their target—a craft that looked a lot like the cargo vehicles in the Stargazer’s shuttlebay, no doubt outfitted to hold people instead. It sat out there in the middle of the landing area, which lay between the extremities of the horseshoe-shaped building and had played host to perhaps hundreds of shuttle landings since the installation was built.
But all those other shuttles had carried